Chapter 87: Beyond Redemption, The Three Souls Unite

“Kneel before the Emperor!”

His voice thundered forth, unleashing a tempest of awe. Among the assembled immortals of the Sect of Severance, someone murmured in dazed disbelief, “Has the Eastern Emperor gone mad, attacking even his own allies?”

For the oppressive might in that voice spilled forth with such majesty that even the immortals outside the formations could barely withstand it. Their cultivation was far inferior to the ancient Ancestral Witches, and thus they struggled against the Heaven’s Might wielded by the Emperor’s celestial soul. Overwhelmed by the power, they were compelled to their knees in reverent submission.

Beyond the formation, young Bai Ling fell to her knees as well, eyes wide with terror and confusion as she gazed at that peerless figure. A wave of unfamiliar emotion flooded her heart—why did she feel such strangeness at the sight of that unrivaled form? What was happening to Hao Dan?

High above, hidden amidst the heavens, several immortal silhouettes watched on—the Three Primal Elders of Antiquity: the Supreme Elder, the Primordial Heavenly Lord, the Grandmaster of Heaven, and the assembled gods of the Celestial Realm. Yet, they chose to remain aloof, merely observing.

The Grand Celestial Star Array had completed its purpose. The ten Ancestral Witches had been released by my command—by Luo Yu. Yet their souls, bound within the Ten Luo Avatars, could not fully unleash their true strength.

Suddenly, Ancestor Xuanming roared, “Even if these vessels limit us, even if we cannot wield our full power, you are but a celestial soul possessing a body! To think to crush us—what a laughable dream!”

“Hmph!”

With a snort, the Ancestral Witches rose together, their spines straightening despite the pressure. Without any external aid, they summoned a shroud of shadowy aura, cloaking themselves against the Emperor’s might.

“Luo Yu! Abyssal Consort! To your places—initiate the formation!”

With the command of Lady Houtu, the voices of the twelve resounded as one: “Twelve Divine Thrones, return to the Primordial Heavens! Twelve Capitals, reverse the Nine Skies!”

The celestial soul sneered, “You dare display the Twelve Celestial Capitals Formation before me?”

A sound of doubt—“Hm?”—preceded the shift in the divine array. The pressure was indescribable, as if titanic hands battered the Twelve Capitals Formation from every direction. The formation trembled violently; several of the twelve could not endure, coughing blood as a crimson mist filled the skies.

Then the celestial soul laughed coldly, “A millennium ago, I was careless. Today, I shall see your blood pay the debt in full!” The arrogant, enigmatic tone chilled the crowd.

The immortals beyond the formation watched as the Eastern Emperor’s figure streaked across the sky, leaving countless afterimages—a dazzling, domineering presence dominating the heavens. He plunged into the array, his shadows flickering past the Ancestral Witches and unleashing a barrage of attacks. In an instant, he appeared at the center of the formation, raising a single hand. Somehow, the fabled Eastern Emperor Bell had reappeared, spinning ceaselessly upon his finger.

With a murmur that disregarded all beneath the heavens, he intoned, “Nine Suns Fall!”

At that utterance, an uproar erupted. The immortals of the Sect of Severance gazed upon the spinning bell, within which the void parted as if clouds were swept aside—revealing nine immense, blazing suns hanging beyond the clouds at the end of endless darkness.

The searing heat made the immortals sweat profusely. The Three Primal Elders, concealed in the heights, hastily cast unknown arts to shield themselves from the impossible temperature.

Meanwhile, the Ancestral Witches looked up. Their formation still functioned, but their incantation had been interrupted by the Emperor’s assault. Now, as the Emperor Taiyi invoked the “Nine Suns Fall,” terror seized them—for this was a technique unseen even in the ancient war a thousand years ago.

Had it not been for interference that day, they would never have had the chance to perish together with the Eastern Emperor.

Though Bai Ling felt estranged, she saw that Hao Dan now held the advantage, and despite her confusion, a faint joy stirred within her. She steadied herself, withdrawing slightly to avoid the two godly battle arrays, whose residual force alone was more than she could withstand.

Suddenly, Yan Lietian appeared behind her, whispering, “Retreat! This power will destroy heaven and earth—we cannot linger!” He seized her and soared away.

Now, the nine suns descended, blazing toward the Ancestral Witches. The air shimmered with black smoke; rainbow clouds were torn asunder and dissolved by the relentless heat.

As the Ancestral Witches continued their formation, Luo Yu and the Abyssal Consort shared a look of understanding. Lady Houtu gazed coldly at the nine suns and declared, “Perhaps Your Majesty does not know the true function of the Twelve Capitals Divine Formation!”

The celestial soul’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Ancestor Xuanming laughed, “This formation can absorb all attacks and reverse them against the enemy!”

Luo Yu and the Abyssal Consort were startled; they did not know the full secret of the formation, but they understood that only by joining forces with the Ancestral Witches could the tides be turned.

Houtu and Xuanming’s revelation shook the heavens, and the watching immortals’ confidence was shattered. The situation reversed yet again—the Ancestral Witches were not to be underestimated.

As the celestial soul’s glorious form blazed in the sky, the nine suns fell. The Ancestral Witches laughed derisively, their mocking voices echoing through the nine heavens.

The taunting struck a nerve. For the first time, a trace of rage crossed the celestial soul’s proud features. With a growl, the nine suns crashed down—“Boom!”—nine thunderous explosions resounded, shaking the world. Were it not for the dual-layered barrier, the city below would have been obliterated.

As the suns struck the formations, smoke billowed, winds howled—and in that chaos, none noticed that the Twelve Capitals Formation was absorbing the power of the nine suns, swelling with an increasing, destructive force. The proud celestial soul remained oblivious.

Suddenly, the celestial soul turned sharply; above the formation behind him, countless black suns were gathering, their darkness blotting out the heavens. Bai Ling, wrenching free from Yan Lietian’s arms, flew toward Hao Dan with reckless abandon, seizing the moment when the barrier opened to slip inside.

Yan Lietian cried out in panic, “Little Sister, no!” The immortals shouted after her, “It’s too dangerous! Don’t you value your life?”

But, faced with life and death, they had already forgotten their own divinity. High in the sky, the Three Primal Elders and the gods were deeply moved, while the Grandmaster of Heaven’s brow furrowed anxiously—his helpless concern surely known only to himself.

With a rush, a pure white silhouette streaked into the array, ribbons trailing like a celestial maiden. At that moment, the celestial soul sensed danger, but he did not recognize Bai Ling. As her beautiful face hurtled toward him, he ignored her, summoning power to his right hand—a dark red radiance crackled, as if containing apocalyptic lightning. He cried:

“Imperial Seal! Spatial Stasis! Supreme Art of Taiyi! Unmatched Overlord Body!”

Four techniques unleashed at once, he struck at the black suns. The crowd watched, transfixed, as a colossal hand covered the twin formations, a crimson giant’s eye flashed, and a beam of red light burst forth, detonating the black suns in a chain of explosions. He stood resplendent in the shattered array, encased in golden spiritual armor like an invincible war god.

But the Ancestral Witches were not impressed; instead, they mocked him anew. One sneered, “Your Majesty, you are strong, but you lack cunning. Have you never wondered why you are doomed to fail?”

Before she could finish, Bai Ling cried out, “Stop attacking the Twelve Capitals Formation! It was never meant for offense—it absorbs the strongest attacks of heaven and earth, turning them to its own use! Continue, and you’ll be playing right into their hands!”

The celestial soul bristled with disbelief.

At last, he withdrew his hand and turned to Bai Ling. But suddenly, a wave of confusion struck him—within, a fierce struggle began. In the world of the Eastern Emperor, Hao Dan’s soul fought desperately against the celestial soul’s dominance. Time and again Hao Dan had lost, but his will remained unyielding. The image of that enchanting figure haunted his mind, etched indelibly in his soul—no matter the celestial soul’s violence, he could not erase it.

Facing the celestial soul’s fury, Hao Dan stood tall and cried, “You wish to devour me? Dream on! The heavenly and earthly souls are one—why should I submit?”

The celestial soul spat, “One? Ridiculous! From birth I have warred with the Dao of Heaven, where the strong devour the weak. I am the Celestial Soul—Heaven reigns supreme, might makes right, and Heaven devours Earth! This is destiny! And you are meant to be devoured!”

His words brooked no argument.

“Perhaps I cannot win,” Hao Dan replied, “but remember, the three souls are not meant to be dominated by the celestial soul alone.” His words hinted at the human soul—if only it could awaken and join with Hao Dan, perhaps the three souls could merge, and the true Eastern Emperor Taiyi would arise.

Outside, chaos reigned. With Bai Ling’s intervention, the tide had not turned, and the Ancestral Witches began to chant:

“Heaven’s spirit! Earth’s spirit! Spirits of all creation, manifest!”
“Twelve Capitals, twelve gods—divine might destroys rebellious spirits!”

Their hands formed matching seals, their voices rising to a crescendo that shook the heavens.

“Divine Void, Divine Wood, Divine Metal, Divine Water, Divine Fire, Divine Wind, Divine Thunder, Divine Lightning, Divine Decay, Divine Qi, Divine Rain, Divine Earth!”

The twelve incantations merged with the formation, and the world changed—darkness fell, the stars reversed, space stilled, elemental forces raged, black miasma and death pervaded the sky. Even the two great arrays began to crack under the onslaught.

Seeing the gathering power, Bai Ling soared upward. Hao Dan, sensing a force beyond the Dao of Heaven, watched through the window of the Emperor’s world. The celestial soul too gazed out, his eyes tinged with red, his flawless face curving in a faint, elusive smile—a smile that burned into the celestial soul’s memory.

Suddenly, the human soul flared forth—a blue light flashed, merged with Hao Dan’s earthly soul. The celestial soul froze, and Hao Dan seized the moment, pressing his palm to the celestial soul’s brow and shouting, “Three Souls as One!”

At that instant, the world outside fell silent. Bai Ling’s delicate form hovered in the sky, and countless golden lights spiraled about her, making her the sole radiance in creation. Under every gaze, her fair hands formed seals, and she sang:

“Heavenly powers, mysterious arts, the Gate of Life: Final Chapter!
Life unceasing, memory undying, transform spirit to spell, from death to life!
All things awaken—Miracle of the Life Gate!”

As she chanted, the Twelve Capitals Formation gathered the absorbed power into a colossal black sun, which unleashed countless tendrils of black flame to bind Hao Dan. Though he repeatedly burst forth with spiritual force, the flames always returned, inescapable.

Only then did Hao Dan complete the union of his three souls, but he was not yet the true Eastern Emperor Taiyi. Memories of his past surged through him, fragmentary and vivid. Though he could not yet control his body, instinct drove him to struggle against the black flames. Above, Bai Ling had already sacrificed her lifeforce to cast the final chapter of the Life Gate.

It all happened in an instant. Within the array, all were stunned. The twelve figures exchanged uneasy glances as an unnatural silence descended—the world itself seemed to stop.

A single, resonant note sounded—no one knew from where.

All was still—the Primal Elders frozen, the immortals locked in place. In the palace below, the sickly Emperor of Xia was motionless upon his throne; his guards, the townsfolk, the airborne sorceress Yan Ruoxian, Zhao Gongming astride his black tiger, and Lu Tianming tending the wounded—all were stilled.

Beyond the city, the Eight Immortals of the Wind Gate were in the midst of a magical contest with the Witch Wu Tong, unleashing red, green, and white tile magics, and the Four Winds technique. As the city gates were about to fall, the merchant alliance’s million-strong army and the Eight Immortals were also frozen. The Witch Wu Tong’s last expression was one of disbelief as she looked up at the pure white figure in the sky—a beauty that seemed, in that moment, the gentlest and most radiant in all the world, her visage shining with the golden light of the heavens.

Hao Dan awoke with a start. The fusion of his three souls had transformed him—his hair now pure white, his eyes blood-red. Wreathed in black flame, he was powerless to break free, forced to watch Bai Ling’s luminous form fade away. Grief and fury overpowered him as he shattered the stillness, roaring:

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!”

His cry shook the four seas and the eight wildernesses, changing the very color of heaven and earth. Yet the merciless assault of the Twelve Capitals pressed inexorably on; Hao Dan was about to be annihilated, body and soul.

Bai Ling’s sorrowful voice rang out. Turning her exquisite face, she sang:

“Reverse all creation, disperse the spirits and souls!”

The black flames enveloping Hao Dan began to recede. At last, he had awakened as the true Eastern Emperor Taiyi—a union of past and present. His proud yet grief-stricken face was etched with pain as he whispered, “Foolish girl… Why? Was it worth it?”

“It was,” she replied, her voice frail but absolutely certain.

In that frozen world, only the two of them could move—only their voices remained.

Having spent all her divine power, Bai Ling drifted down. Hao Dan caught her in his arms, holding her tightly, his crimson eyes fixed upon her celestial beauty.

“Dear one, do you know why I never taught you the final chapter of the Life Gate?” he asked, all the Emperor’s arrogance gone, holding her like the gentlest of men. A tear slid unbidden down his cheek.

‘The tears of the Eastern Emperor—heaven and earth lament.’

In a hoarse voice, he asked, “Why?”

She gazed at her beloved, her smile tender and tragic. “The final chapter of the Life Gate requires the sacrifice of one’s own life to cast. Long ago, when you begged me to teach it, I had already decided to use it, one day, to guard you, even at the cost of my life. As if by fate, it was always meant to be. This ending… I guessed it long ago.” Her voice faded to nothing.

With that, she closed her eyes forever. As her soul dissipated, a small yellow talisman drifted down. Before he could react, Hao Dan caught it.

It was the very talisman Hao Dan had given Bai Ling in the Spirit World, when he first teased her—a simple, childish charm, the words “I like you” scrawled haphazardly, yet still clear.

Her vanishing form, with its willowy grace, lingered in the air—a beauty that would humble even the finest painting. As the world remained frozen, Hao Dan stood alone in the sky, the black flames fixed in the shattered arrays. He gazed at her fading silhouette, his heart tranquil in the silence, as if his peace and the world’s stillness were one.

In that hush, memories came flooding back: her gentle teachings, stern punishments, feigned quarrels, every petty torment, her willful bullying, their midnight mischief, hunting mythical birds and turtles together—all the days spent in the Spirit World, each memory his most precious regret.

He carefully tucked the yellow charm into his robe. He remembered her radiant smile, his own shy scrawl on the talisman, his innocent affection. Bai Ling had treasured it, though her maidenly pride forbade her from confessing her feelings. That day, his bold act had won her heart.

From then on, Bai Ling’s mercurial nature kept him on his toes—sometimes strict, sometimes lively, sometimes a wilful princess, sometimes a whirlwind. Seven years in the Spirit World, a new temperament every day, and love slowly blossomed.

When Hao Dan mastered the arts of the Mysterious Way, only the Life Gate remained untaught. He was curious, but Bai Ling fell silent, refusing to answer. He never asked again, but remembered how she once frowned in uncharacteristic seriousness—her heart had already decided the final chapter was for him. The forbidden art of the Life Gate could only be unleashed with a sacrifice of true love.

On the surface, she bullied him, but in truth, she was guiding him. The Way was subtle and profound, requiring both talent and perseverance.

Of the four Death Gate arts, he could barely master two, suffering greatly in the process. Bai Ling often threw him into icy caves to teach him that “three feet of ice is not frozen in a day.”

Amid their playful bickering, they always found comfort in each other’s arms. The Spirit World’s night was a beauty unmatched by any mortal paradise.

When Hao Dan first cast the Death Gate, he shattered space itself. Bai Ling cleaned up the mess, but his restless nature led him to use his arts to arrange the stars into a heart—a token of love. Bai Ling, ever charming, smiled and sent him flying back with a kick.

There were other memories, too: chasing azure birds and white cranes across the skies, playing tricks on the divine beasts—only to be chased in turn, with Bai Ling joining the fun. And in the Spirit Sea, the mighty turtle, mistaken for an island, fell victim to Hao Dan’s mischief—only to take revenge later, aided by Bai Ling.

Lost in these memories, Hao Dan opened his eyes. The world, long frozen, trembled and returned to motion. The air flowed, clouds drifted, and the black flames dissipated with the final chapter of the Life Gate.

The two grand arrays shattered with a crisp sound. Suddenly, two golden lights—Hetu and Luoshu—tried to flee, but Hao Dan’s will stopped them, and they hovered around him meekly.

He had no interest in them. With a thought, the Eastern Emperor Bell appeared, and with a single, silent stamp, ripples spread across the sky.

The immortals awakened, stunned. High above, the Supreme Elder murmured, “The bell of the Eastern Emperor—showers of flowers fall from the empty heavens!”

This was the Emperor’s ultimate move. A thousand years ago, for Bai Ling’s safety, he had erased himself from her memory. That was why Bai Ling, in the Spirit World, remembered nothing of the Eastern Emperor. But now, with all his memories restored, Bai Ling was gone forever.

As Lu Ya the Daoist once said: “Two lifetimes entwined, yet fate remains unfulfilled. Now, even as love arises, it must end.”

Fate comes and goes—none can escape.

Now, transformed into the true Eastern Emperor Taiyi, Hao Dan’s heart was full of Bai Ling’s image—her every smile and frown, as fleeting as snow under the moon, lingering and vanishing.

In the grip of rage, the ripples beneath his feet turned to snow, sweeping toward the twelve figures. Atop the Seven-Star Lotus, Susu awoke, and with a wave of his hand, her delicate form became a jade-green fox, nestling in his arms, nine tails streaming behind him. Now, Hao Dan stood tall—crimson eyes stern, robes billowing, the very image of an emperor.

The wind howled with the ruin of immortals, the Ancestral Witches’ cries of agony. All the helplessness they had inflicted upon the Eastern Emperor was returned a hundredfold.

But before their annihilation, far away, the witch Jialuo and her sisters sought a mysterious figure—the Mistress of the Seven-Star Tower, the Witch Star-Lady. The three knelt and called out, “Greetings, Lady Chou—the Divine Witch!”

This Star-Lady was the supreme deity of the Witch Tribe—everything was within her grasp. Long ago, she aided the sage Nantong in secret, but now she hid her power, serving beneath the Nine-Phenix Witch.

For what purpose, who could say? As the Divine Witch, she could have faced the Eastern Emperor alone, yet she withheld her hand.

Just as Houtu, Xuanming, Luo Yu, and the others were about to perish, several figures tore through the sky—Jialuo and her sisters stood behind the Divine Witch, astride the ancient beast, the Void Crab, vast enough to blot out heaven.

Facing the furious Emperor, the Divine Witch spoke calmly, “Your Majesty, the karma of millennia is settled. The Ancestral Witches’ lives are needed elsewhere—there is chaos in the underworld, and they must descend to restore order. Should the dead flood the living realm, the balance of the Three Realms will be lost. I ask you, for the sake of all, to let them go.”

“Utter nonsense!”

The gods behind the Emperor cried out in outrage. Bai Ling’s death was a wound they could not bear—even the Grandmaster of Heaven had cherished her.

“Why didn’t you come sooner? Why did you not save her?” someone shouted, grief and rage in every word.

The little goddess Yishen retorted, “How dare you question the Divine Witch! Her words are not for you to judge!”

The Eastern Emperor stroked Susu’s fur, his tone calm. “What would you have me do?”

“Release the Ancestral Witches, and peace will return,” the Divine Witch replied.

“And if I refuse?”

The Void Crab beneath her roared, and her sisters drew back. The Divine Witch said softly, “If I act, you cannot stop me.”

An uproar broke out among the immortals. The Emperor’s gaze sharpened, then, with a sudden laugh that dashed their hopes, he said, “The calamity of witches and demons ends today. But I have one more question—does the underworld possess the art to restore the dead?”

The crowd gasped. The Divine Witch smiled, “Of course…”

Her voice lingered, full of meaning. “No, it does not.”

“Do not disappoint me,” said the Emperor. Yet he saw a hint of possibility in her eyes, and asked no more, turning away, leaving the crowd bewildered.

Now, he was no longer the Hao Dan of old, nor the proud Emperor Taiyi of the past, but something new—a ruler of unmatched composure and mystery.

The world returned to its course. The Eastern Emperor Taiyi vanished from the heavens, never to be seen again. The Divine Witch led the wounded Ancestral Witches back to the far north.

In the mortal realm, the balance of power shifted. The King of Wu, leader of the Merchant Alliance, captured the capital of Yudu, seized the tyrant Xia Jie, and executed his treacherous minister Zhao Liang, displaying his remains for all to see.

The new prime minister Yi Yin came to Yudu, and at the inauguration, the left minister Zhonghui urged leniency for the people—exile the Xia clan to the south, never to return, and let Shang rule in accordance with heaven’s will.

But fate is ever fickle. After the war, drought gripped the land—the world’s spiritual energy dispersed, and rain would not fall. The people suffered.

Thus, the legend arose: King Cheng Tang of Shang prayed to the heavens for rain, to save the people of Yudu from the burning drought.