Chapter Seventy-One: Return to Unity

Jin Buhuan chose his moment with great precision. Right now, his old friend was in need of help, and he could ruthlessly charge Lan Yi a hefty price.

He pulled out a thin metal bracelet, its design strikingly futuristic, and tossed it to Lan Yi.

"An Outer Space Vital-Sign Bracelet. Not only can it shield your Dao aura, it also conceals your true psionic radiation."

"Standard price: ten spirit-dust," Lan Yi responded smoothly, slipping the familiar device onto his left wrist.

"Ten? Why don’t you just rob me?" Jin Buhuan immediately grimaced.

"Twenty portions. Not a speck more," Lan Yi retorted, skillfully tuning the bracelet with his psionics. Satisfied, he nodded—it wasn’t a disposable knockoff. That old swindler had turned over a new leaf, it seemed.

"Fine, twenty it is."

Seeing Lan Yi had already put the bracelet on, Jin Buhuan’s demeanor shifted; he looked at his old friend with malicious glee, reveling in his little scheme.

"Let me make this clear: no refunds after purchase. I picked up this thing from a dimensional drifter. Any day now, he might show up looking for you, asking if you want to understand the true meaning of life, if you really want to live. For a psionic cultivator like you, in the eyes of those drifters, you’re premium stock."

That was Jin Buhuan’s way—whatever he sold usually came with a catch. The size of the pit depended on the value of the item: either it was a disaster with a sliver of hope left, or something highly satisfactory that would eventually trip you up.

Lan Yi chuckled.

"No matter. Worst case, I’ll forgo being human in the next trial."

"So you really intend to become Demon Lord Lan? Can’t you just start over and live honestly? I know you don’t really want to be a villain; I can see the goodness and peace left in you." Jin Buhuan winced, realizing that this pitfall meant nothing to Lan Yi.

"Why not?" Lan Yi’s gaze shifted to the far edge of space, where the first signs of collapse were appearing.

Damn, a loss!

Jin Buhuan cursed under his breath, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep drag before exhaling a cloud, finally speaking.

"I’ve already requested the temporary passage mission for you. When are you available?"

Thanks to Lan Yi’s creation of this world’s ultimate causality, Jin Buhuan’s mission request went through smoothly; the higher-dimensional computer had raised its favorability toward Lan Yi significantly.

If Lan Yi had been a native of the Artificial God Realm, at this time of spiritual revival and martial flourishing, he’d enjoy the treatment reserved for children of destiny.

"About ten days or so," Lan Yi estimated.

He needed enough time to fully spread the Stellar Scripture, forge a Martial Empire, harvest the Life Cluster for reinforcement, and lead an advance party to conquer the Eastern Sun. Ten days would do it. If he timed it right, he could return to the main world just as the barrage of attacks from those reborn old-timers began.

"Alright, once you’re done, let Huo Yuanjia guide you—he knows the way."

Jin Buhuan nodded, and his figure began to blur, as if time itself was rewinding, erasing all traces.

"Lan, let me remind you," his voice lingered.

"This mission isn’t simple."

"If you get careless using your usual Daoist arts, you might just crash and burn."

"And I want only the purest stuff! Be sure to add extra electromagnetic!"

With that, Jin Buhuan vanished completely. Even the lingering scent of his cigarette was gone, as if he’d never been there at all.

Lan Yi gazed intently at the spot where Jin Buhuan had disappeared.

It was indeed temporal-spatial Daoist arts.

Ever since the Artificial God Realm’s spiritual revival, beings like Jin Buhuan had grown in power. With the world’s rise, there would surely be many more strange encounters ahead.

To have personally altered the course of a world, to pull the declining River Civilization back from the brink—this was truly an epic feat to be proud of!

Yet Lan Yi felt no excitement or joy; it was as natural as eating or drinking water.

He’d done such things too many times.

But still—

As a psionic cultivator of the River Civilization, as long as hope remained, no matter how many times, he never tired of it.

...

With the Battle of Xuzhou concluded, the begonias of autumn at last returned to unity.

On the East Asian continent, in terms of strength, law, and legitimacy, a powerful empire was rising, its claim to rule utterly unassailable.

This empire’s style was unlike any other.

When the thunder of dreadnoughts shook the world, the innate energy of martial warriors and the profound Daoist arts of consecrated priests overtook the old order in a single bound. Yet they did not reject science and technology—on the contrary, they absorbed and studied it within the Daoist Canon. The world would be swept into a great revival by the Starhan Empire’s ability to turn the tide.

With dozens of immortal lotus thunderpools planted across the rivers north and south, and in every major city, hope was kindled in four hundred million souls. The very foundation of the Artificial God Realm was forcibly rewritten, paving the way for a future where psionic energy would naturally flow.

Martial artists and Daoists both proved a boon to industry and agriculture. Even the most short-sighted could see the explosion of resources in this nation of destiny.

A powerful, unified dynasty bore obvious marks: expansion into the far south, expeditions to the northern steppes, strategic ventures into the western regions. In this era of global vision, one had to add: punishment of the rebellious east. Given the Eastern Sun’s repeated offenses, there would be martial warriors or Daoists eager to earn merit there for years to come.

In the far south, clans were mobilized with the scholars of the Jixia Academy’s Gongyang School as advisors, the Kunlun Bureau of Investigation providing logistics, martial warriors and consecrated Daoists forming the spearhead, all rallied by the unprecedented prestige of Master Lan Yi. Hundreds of thousands worked in unison.

For the local natives, these tens of thousands represented an advanced communal model. Despite the protests and panic of the old empires, the juggernaut of civilization was unleashed, laying the groundwork for the coming martial revolution.

This time, there was no shocked admiration from foreign powers—only dread.

The colonial powers in the South Seas suddenly realized a terrifying reality: unless they abandoned their own brewing wars and summoned millions of troops, losing a generation in the process, they stood no chance of stopping this juggernaut.

Otherwise, land warfare would simply be a slaughter for the martial warriors.

What could they do? No one knew.

The South Seas were clearly the strategic priority. In the frigid north, it was enough to keep the barbarians at bay; the gray beasts, even if suicidal, served only as cannon fodder. The western regions, though fewer in number, became the chosen training ground for the most iron-blooded martial artists and consecrated Daoists, the complex local situation perfect for honing their skills.

As for the east—

Lan Yi acted in person.

One after another, white-painted ironclads sliced through the blue waves, sailing from the port of Yanjing. True to his word, Master Lan Yi brought along Xiao Hongzhuan, who was so elated he whooped and hollered like an excited primate.