Fellow Daoist! That scoundrel has written a new book again.

Chapter 479 The Greatness of Life

Fu Yu was driven to the brink of despair. Both the legendary White Bone Killing God and the Spirit Brush, which had never been mentioned before, seemed to want to kill her here.

Under pursuit, she gradually moved closer to the center of the secret realm.

It is unknown what happened in the outside world while she was dreaming, but the map she had pieced together over the past two or three years was now completely useless.

The wishing well seems to hang on the cliff, with water cascading down in a continuous stream, rising into steam from the sea of ​​fire below.

This is the perilous place that the Spirit Pen created to hinder the skeletons.

But now, Fu Yu has been stopped.

Fu Yu watched as the white-boned killing god battled with the spirit brush, as if he himself had become some rare and precious treasure, and everyone was vying to kill him first.

She slowly tightened her grip on the scabbard behind her.

This sword has never been drawn since she left the Qingyun Sect.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Zhu Wuyao had just developed self-awareness, and she couldn't even distinguish who she was.

It's like being in a dream; you can only be moved by the changing story and the ebb and flow of your emotions.

She was able to open the door for Fu Yu.

But the cacophony of thoughts, boiling like water, was destroying the order she had painstakingly built up, with hundreds and thousands of different voices and ideas appearing in an instant.

Like a lone tree in a flood, being battered by the raging waves, it could be assimilated by the powerful chaos at any moment.

Her weak will was like a newly sprouted seed.

Yet they had to contend with the chaos of the entire world.

It is impossible to maintain one's own consciousness amidst the raging sea, let alone lend a helping hand to those who draw their swords in the dream.

Fu Yu's sword had not been drawn for a long time.

It seemed to be covered in a layer of rust, and when the sword was drawn, a hoarse sound of countless particles rubbing together could be heard.

The sword flashed with a cold light.

While the spirit brush was fighting the white bones, Fu Yu drew her sword without hesitation. She swung her sword at the world around her and at the clamorous winds and clouds.

As the sword was drawn, the world's clamor seemed to quiet down for a moment.

The sword has been sheathed for two or three years, only for this day, when the wind and clouds disperse.

The moment she unleashed that sword strike, the "killing" command that the Jade Corpse Puppet had been carrying out for years spread out like cinnabar falling into water, rippling and dispersing.

The spirit brush found it quite strange; it seemed to sense that the entire secret realm was unusually quiet.

All the contradictions, conflicts, and endless disputes seemed to have fallen silent.

The world is pure and dust-free.

Zhu Wuyao's faint consciousness finally subsided for a moment, and she was like a sapling that quickly spread its branches and leaves, taking advantage of the lull in the flood to spread her roots.

In the tranquil world created by Fu Yu's sword, she instinctively grasped her own consciousness and strengthened herself.

Rinsing my mouth with ice and washing it with snow, gazing at a mere hair's breadth across ten thousand miles, my heart is filled with joy.

Seemingly breaking free from the chaos, dullness, and heat, Zhu Wuyao's consciousness seized the opportunity and quickly took over, gaining that moment of clarity.

Just as Fu Yu saw the sea of ​​fire below subside and was about to leap down to face death, a gate suddenly appeared before her eyes.

A door leading to the outside world.

Zhu Wuyao's surroundings have once again become active.

The symbiotic will seemed to want to drag her back into chaos, and before this sapling could establish its roots, it wanted to annihilate this suddenly appearing dominant will.

Chaos and madness, disorder, are about to regain the upper hand.

Just then, Fu Yu stood in front of the door and, at the last moment, took out a metal object from his storage bag.

Fu Yu heard the legend that there were many silver and gold pieces in the wishing well, with patterns engraved on them, so she collected them little by little and made them according to the legend.

It was a choice she had no other option but to make when all other recourse was exhausted and she had no other choice.

"I wish that everyone can leave the secret realm."

As the "coin" made by people from the cultivation world was thrown into the wishing well, Zhu Wuyao, who was about to be dragged into the chaos, suddenly grabbed a rope while sinking.

That was a causal thread in the moment of making a wish, wishing that Wuyao would repay the kindness of awakening.

This is a debt owed.

You owe this world a debt of gratitude you have yet to repay; therefore, you cannot yet fall into slumber.

Fu Yu leaped through the door leading to the outside world.

But the coins she left behind, sunk to the bottom of the water, are reflecting shimmering light on the surface of the water under the clear blue sky.

Using this coin as a token, the causal thread that spreads and connects the two is pulling Zhu Wuyao back from chaos to the human world.

This thread of cause and effect allowed Zhu Wuyao to find his place in the world.

All the shifting threads of cause and effect belonging to Zhu Wuyao have finally found their place.

Some feelings are nostalgia, some are resentment, and some are gratitude...

But in the end, many people still remember her.

These concerns wove together into a giant net, which was no longer a net of fate that controlled her choices, but a net that was enough to pull her out of chaos and madness.

Cause and effect are interconnected.

Debts, favors, grudges... all these things come from all directions, weaving a giant net, and at the very center of the knot is the place where the individual exists.

Many grudges and feuds are baseless.

For example, if she builds a bridge while doing good deeds, the ferrymen will complain about her.

"If it weren't for that meddlesome cultivator back then, our family's boat would not only be useful for fishing, but we could also haul people back and forth every day, and we would have made so much more money!"

For example, if she wronged someone, the person who was wronged would then feel sorry for her.

"It's been almost three years, and there's still no news from A-Yao. Why hasn't she written any more books...?"

For example, trouble she thought wouldn't happen, actually did—

"Master, I want to go down the mountain to find her and restore everything to its rightful place."

……

There are too many unreasonable things in this world.

Doing good deeds can lead to bad consequences; feeling guilty can lead to finding a confidant; where the wind stops, war can break out...

A complex web of grudges and entanglements confirmed the existence of one person.

Life is born from chaos, born from all sorts of incredible coincidences.

The spirit pen looked into the secret realm, where matter was gradually moving towards order. Amidst countless mountains and clouds, its heart seemed to have witnessed the entire process of birth from nothingness to life, and it seemed to have grasped some profound truths.

It seemed to have realized that the birth of life, like cause and effect, was inherently chaotic, disordered, coincidental, and without cause...

The door leading to the outside world was closed.

But Lingbi had no intention of going out with Fuyu.

Its voice seemed to tremble with excitement, as if trembling at the greatness of life; the voice of the magic pen spread in all directions in a wondrous way—

"Zhu Wuyao, she—has grown!"

"It's grown!"

The skeleton, having lost its target, continued to slack off, seemingly noticing the sound of the spirit pen and, unable to bear it any longer, disassembled the hammer handle.

Although Zhu Wuyao has not yet recovered all his memories, and only his memories of his past life are relatively complete, he already knows his own name.

As a bolt of lightning struck from a clear sky, the voice of the spirit pen's praise once again resounded in all directions—

"Zhu Wuyao, she's started chopping people up like a madwoman!"