Chapter 84: Reunion with an Old Acquaintance, the Black Mist Takes Form

On the vast sky once shrouded by the tides of darkness, a colossal spatial rift was torn open by a gigantic hand that blotted out the heavens. A robust figure stepped out from within, standing respectfully to the side. Then, a slightly more slender figure appeared high above the nine skies.

As the endless aura of darkness touched their bodies, it melted away instantly, like snowflakes in sunlight. In these nine heavens suffused with blood-red light, the two seemed to return as ancient divinities. The blood mist and the overwhelming tide of darkness surged restlessly at their arrival.

Unusual ripples spread from the black currents across this world. Though no sound could be heard, both Desolation and the Willow Goddess sensed resentment and unwillingness within, as if grievances were being voiced against the two figures above.

The two looked down at Desolation and the Willow Goddess, unseen for many years. Star of the Morning, with obvious displeasure, called to Desolation, “Little one, aren’t you coming up?”

Hearing the summons, the Willow Goddess glanced at the surrounding tides of darkness, preparing to ascend to the nine heavens with Desolation atop the Creation Lotus. Yet unexpectedly, Desolation, without a word, raised a hand to stow away the lotus and soared skyward.

The Willow Goddess was deeply shocked the instant the lotus disappeared, ready to summon all her power to ward off the ominous invasion—only to see Desolation joyfully flying toward Star of the Morning, as if the dark tides did not even notice him.

Astonished, she unconsciously withdrew her spiritual power, feeling none of the expected corrosive touch of darkness. Relieved, she too took flight, heading for Star of the Morning.

Desolation reached Star of the Morning and tried to embrace him, but was knocked on the head with a sharp rap. “Ouch!” Desolation cried, clutching his head and looking innocently at Star of the Morning, baffled as to why his beloved master would reprimand him upon their first meeting after so many years. Was it because he had grown up and was no longer cute?

Seeing the feigned innocence, Star of the Morning almost laughed but kept a stern face. “Do you know why I hit you this time?”

Desolation looked at him in confusion. “Master, why?”

“Hmph!” Star of the Morning snorted, ignoring him further, and turned to the Willow Goddess. “Willow Goddess, it has been many years. How have you fared?”

The green light that had always shrouded the Willow Goddess gradually faded, revealing a woman of peerless beauty. Her face, radiant as moon and stars, blushed faintly as she offered a graceful salute. “It has been a long time, Star of the Morning,” she said, her voice ringing clear as a phoenix’s song.

“You… you’re a woman?” Desolation stared in disbelief. Ever since childhood, he had assumed the Willow Goddess was a man, never understanding her constant green glow, nor ever imagining she was a beauty of such renown.

Star of the Morning glanced disdainfully at Desolation. “After all these years, you still can’t tell a man from a woman. Now you know why I hit you!”

Desolation knew his master was teasing, but could offer no defense, for his cultivation had never surpassed the Willow Goddess, making her disguise hard to pierce.

Speechless, he turned to Pangu, offering a respectful bow. “Greetings, Senior Brother!” Pangu nodded, lifting Desolation up with a wave. “No need for formality, junior brother.”

As they spoke, the tides of darkness surged ever more violently, as if urging something.

“All right, no need to hurry. They won’t escape,” Star of the Morning said calmly. The tides immediately settled, as if understanding his words.

Desolation, intrigued, asked, “Master, are there living beings in this world? That shouldn’t be possible!”

“No,” Star of the Morning replied, shaking his head.

“Then why do I sense waves of spiritual consciousness from within the darkness?” Desolation pressed.

Star of the Morning was silent for a long time, then said, “You arrived here first. Why don’t you share your thoughts about this world?”

Desolation scratched his head, organizing his thoughts. “From my observations, it seems this world has never birthed life. The tides of darkness are too fearsome—no living thing could survive here. Thankfully, there were two… uh, where did those gold and silver tides go?”

Just as Desolation was preparing to expound, he looked to find the very entities he meant to mention were already gone.

Star of the Morning waved him off. “Don’t worry about them. Continue with your thoughts.”

“Well, all right,” Desolation conceded. “It was thanks to those two tides that the ominous presence was held at bay. Otherwise, this world would probably have vanished long ago.”

He eagerly finished his explanation, looking to Star of the Morning for praise.

“Alas,” Star of the Morning shook his head, a note of bitterness in his voice. “You are mistaken.”

Desolation blinked in confusion, unable to see where his reasoning had faltered. Even the Willow Goddess looked at Star of the Morning, equally puzzled.

Star of the Morning turned to her, asking, “Do you recall what I said to you years ago?”

The Willow Goddess paused, uncertain. “What words?”

“In your world, the Heavenly Way is lost, the Great Dao has vanished,” Star of the Morning said flatly.

“Heavenly Way? Great Dao? Are you saying those gold and silver tides were them?” the Willow Goddess asked in shock. Desolation, too, was stunned, knowing well that in his world, both the Heavenly Way and the Great Dao had ceased to exist.

Star of the Morning shook his head, saying nothing more. He glanced at Pangu, who nodded and, in a flash, strode into the tides of darkness, his form swelling into a giant of ten thousand feet.

Desolation and the Willow Goddess watched in bewilderment, not knowing why Pangu revealed his true form.

Pangu extended his hands, slowly bringing them together at the center, and shouted, “Unite!” Instantly, the tides of darkness raged, the black veil and blood mist swirling toward his hands…

In the blink of an eye, a century passed. Under the watchful gaze of Star of the Morning and the others, the once overwhelming tides of darkness and blood mist were compressed by Pangu to a mere yard in size. The smaller the black mass grew, the slower it condensed, and even Pangu began to struggle.

By now, the skies of this world had regained clarity, the ominous sense gone. Fireling and the villagers of Stone Village had already emerged from the small tower, silently watching Pangu.

All present, including Desolation and the Willow Goddess, felt a complex mix of admiration, sorrow, heartache, and melancholy as the blood mist and dark tides fused. They did not know the cause, but sensed it was tied to the black mass in Pangu’s hands.

Another century passed. The black mass and blood mist in Pangu’s hands had fused into a human-sized shape, a speck of dust in the hands of the giant Pangu.

“Master!” One day, Pangu shouted, and Star of the Morning, without hesitation, flicked a drop of blood into the human-sized black mass.

As the blood merged with the darkness, heavenly music resounded, endless laws intertwined, countless golden lotuses spun and danced, as if welcoming the return of ancient divinity.

Desolation and the villagers felt an unprecedented sensation, as though cultivation at this moment would lead to swift breakthroughs. Yet none of them practiced; a feeling warned them that to meditate now would be lifelong regret.

The black mist in Pangu’s hand, infused with blood, gradually transformed into a figure clad in black robes.

Soon, Pangu withdrew his giant hand, his form shrinking to normal size. The figure born from the black mist slowly opened his eyes, sighed, and bowed to Pangu. “Thank you, friend, for your aid and effort.” Pangu nodded in silence.

The black-robed Daoist turned to Star of the Morning, knelt reverently, and declared, “Mo Ni greets his master!”