The ripples of intrusion had long faded from the skies of Tian Yuan's divine realm, but the soil still remembered.
Every blade of grass, every grain of sand hummed softly — carrying faint traces of the foreign aura that had dared trespass upon divine ground. The reflection arrays, once glowing fiercely, had returned to serenity, yet the atmosphere was subtly tense… like a watchful guardian that had only lowered its spear, not sheathed it.
High above the clouds, Tian Yuan stood at the Edge of the Infinite Horizon, gazing into the void where his realm met the flowing rivers of divine energy. The heavens there were layered — countless shimmering veils of power, each representing the barrier between dimensions. He could still feel the faint echo of Lord Xuan Wuji's arrival; the memory of it vibrated faintly within the core of his domain.
Behind him, Yulong, the Golden Dragon, hovered silently, his great wings folded with respect.
"Master," the dragon rumbled, his voice low and filled with concern. "That being's energy still lingers in the wind. It is neither mortal nor ascendant… his core carries the scent of ancient abyssal laws. Allowing him to live may invite unwanted storms."
Tian Yuan's gaze remained fixed ahead.
"Storms are inevitable, Yulong," he said quietly. "But even storms nourish the soil before they destroy. I will not kill a man who sought shelter without lifting a blade first."
The dragon inclined his massive head. "Then shall I keep watch?"
Tian Yuan smiled faintly. "The realm already does. Every leaf and drop of dew is my eye."
Meanwhile, within the Western Field, where soft green mist blanketed the spirit plains, Lord Xuan Wuji stirred from his healing trance. His divine essence had stabilized — only barely. His abyssal core was cracked, his bloodline weakened, and yet… this place, this strange divine world, healed him.
He sat cross-legged beside a luminous spring that glowed with gentle golden light. The water shimmered with pure Dao — the energy of life itself. Every breath he took restored fragments of his power. But there was something else in the air: an overwhelming sense of judgment.
It wasn't hostility — it was accountability.
Every thought, every shift in his aura seemed to be measured, weighed, and silently recorded by the realm itself.
"So this is the Farmer God's world," he murmured. "No wonder my divine tools shattered. His realm is alive. It doesn't serve him… it is him."
He dipped his fingers into the spring and felt the warmth spread through his arm. His own laws tried to resist at first, but the harmony of Tian Yuan's world was too refined. Even abyssal corruption could not fully reject it.
Xuan Wuji closed his eyes.
"…So calm… so deceptively gentle."
Then, suddenly, he shivered. For an instant, he felt eyes on him.
Not Tian Yuan's, not the dragon's — something older. Something deep beneath the roots.
He turned sharply, scanning the forest. The bamboo swayed softly. The mist rippled. And for just a heartbeat, he saw it — a colossal shadow beneath the ground, as though the realm itself possessed a sleeping consciousness.
He blinked, and it was gone.
"…No wonder they call him the Farmer," Xuan Wuji muttered. "Even the soil has a soul here."
Far below in the Mortal Realm, within the serene valley of Greenhill Village — where Tian Yuan's disciples cultivated — an unexpected tremor passed through the land.
The disciples looked up from their morning meditations as the light of dawn briefly flickered gold. The air felt heavier, and the spiritual veins beneath the mountain pulsed violently.
"Senior Sister!" a young disciple cried, running from the inner yard. "Did you feel that? The spirit energy just surged like a heartbeat!"
Senior Sister Mei Lian, a graceful cultivator whose eyes glowed faintly like spring dew, frowned. "It's not a natural surge. The link between this realm and Master's divine domain just… pulsed."
The others exchanged anxious glances.
"Could it be… Master is in danger?"
"Or he's creating something new!" another offered, eyes wide with naïve excitement.
But Mei Lian shook her head. "No. This… this was different. It was as though something entered his domain."
Her words froze the air.
Then, from the training yard, a new voice joined them — calm, commanding, and sharp. It belonged to Lu Cheng, the eldest disciple and former war general before he became Tian Yuan's follower.
"The heavens trembled faintly for half a breath," Lu Cheng said. "That means whatever entered wasn't mortal. Something touched the divine boundaries of Master's soil."
The disciples bowed instinctively.
"What should we do, Senior Brother?" Mei Lian asked.
Lu Cheng looked up toward the golden sky. His eyes gleamed with quiet resolve. "We cultivate. We strengthen. When the soil moves, the roots must not break. If Master's peace is disturbed, we must be ready to defend it."
Their voices rose in unison.
"Yes, Senior Brother!"
The valley pulsed again, faintly. And somewhere deep in their hearts, every disciple felt it — their Master's presence, calm and unwavering, whispering through the threads of their souls.
Do not fear. The field still grows.
Back in the divine realm, Tian Yuan descended from the horizon to the valley of seasons, where the intruder had taken shelter. His every step made the air ripple with quiet power, and flowers bloomed beneath his feet — silent tributes from his own creation.
He found Xuan Wuji meditating beside the spring. The man stood when Tian Yuan appeared, bowing slightly.
"Lord of this realm," Xuan Wuji began, his tone respectful but wary. "I thank you for sparing me. I know not why you would, but I owe you a debt."
Tian Yuan's expression was unreadable. "I do not collect debts, only seeds. Tell me, what do you intend to plant now that you've fled your own soil?"
Xuan Wuji hesitated, then exhaled softly. "War has consumed my home. The Nine Suns seek to erase the Abyssal Lineage — they call us heretics for walking a darker Dao. I have lost my armies, my disciples, my realm. All I have left is my soul."
He looked into the distance. "If I can heal… I will rebuild. But not to conquer. Only to preserve what remains of my people."
Tian Yuan studied him for a long time. His divine sense brushed over the broken core within Xuan Wuji's spirit — a core filled with both corruption and deep sorrow.
"You carry both rot and roots," Tian Yuan said finally. "That is the nature of balance. But hear me, stranger — in my field, even weeds must learn to coexist with grain. Try to take, and the land will reject you."
Xuan Wuji bowed deeply. "Understood."
As he spoke, Tian Yuan's aura dimmed slightly, and a faint golden mark appeared on Xuan Wuji's hand — a seed-shaped brand.
"This will let my realm recognize you as guest," Tian Yuan explained. "But remember, it is the soil that decides if you remain welcome."
The mark pulsed softly, then sank into Xuan Wuji's skin. Instantly, the oppressive energy of the realm eased. The air grew lighter, the spring brighter.
"…Thank you," Xuan Wuji murmured again, lowering his head.
Tian Yuan turned, gazing toward the horizon. His voice softened, almost like a whisper carried by wind.
"You should rest. There will be time to speak of wars and losses later. For now, learn what peace feels like… before you forget how."
But even as Tian Yuan's calm words faded, beyond the layers of heaven — in the vast battlefield of shattered stars — whispers spread among the surviving divine lords of the Celestial Alliance.
"The Abyssal Lord Xuan Wuji has vanished," one said. "His presence faded beyond the nine realms."
Another frowned. "Could he have escaped into the void between worlds?"
"No," a third voice hissed. "I felt it — a pulse from a forgotten divine domain. The aura of creation, not destruction. The field of an ancient being."
"The Farmer?"
A heavy silence fell.
Then one voice whispered what all feared to say aloud.
"If he has taken shelter there… then the Farmer has declared his neutrality broken."
In Tian Yuan's divine world, as night fell, the stars themselves bent slightly toward the center of the realm — toward the glowing fields where Tian Yuan stood, hands behind his back, watching the soil breathe under moonlight.
He smiled faintly, though his gaze was distant.
"The soil remembers every footstep," he murmured. Even the ones that come seeking refuge.
Yulong's voice rumbled from above. Master, the heavens stir. They are watching.
I know,Tian Yuan replied softly. "Let them. The seeds they cast away always find my field eventually.
And beneath his feet, the earth pulsed once alive, aware, and eternal.
To be continued
END OF CHAPTER