UCS Chapter 142

Chapter 142

 

Gao Gusheng suddenly sensed something was wrong and darted backward. “There’s something wrong with him!”

 

But the formation snapped into place in the blink of an eye; there was no escaping it. Huang Shan’s eyes turned fierce and ruthless; he launched his specialized steel pen like a hidden weapon straight at Feiyu’s wrist. Yet, the moment it made contact, a layer of hard fish scales materialized over Feiyu’s wrist. The pen clattered to the ground, its tip bent out of shape.

 

In a flash, both Feiyu and Gao Gusheng—who had been caught in the formation—vanished without a trace.

 

“Holy shit… Boss, don’t worry! I can track Lele!”

 

Hands trembling, Ran Qiu pulled out his laptop and climbed into the car, struggling against the crushing pressure of the Heavenly Dao.

 

“Wait for me!”

 

Huang Shan vaulted into the car, settled Ran Qiu in the back seat, and gunned the engine.

 

A massive boulder plummeted from the sky, threatening to crush the vehicle. Huang Shan executed a sharp drift, narrowly dodging the impact.

 

Ran Qiu, who had thought he was done for, was stunned by Huang Shan’s driving skills. “Awesome!”

 

“Fasten your seatbelt.”

 

He drove as if the car had sprouted wings.

 

[Faster, go faster!]

 

[Back when I could fly, I could cover three thousand *li* in a single movement; this speed is nothing…]

 

[Once my power recovers, I’ll take you above the clouds—we’ll cut through the wind and waves, and I’ll show you what ultimate speed really looks like!]

 

Huang Shan gripped the steering wheel tightly. Feiyu…

 

…

 

“Activate the formation! Quick! Initiate Plan B!”

 

The Spirit police officers dodged the barrage of heavenly fire raining down and leapt across the fissured earth, racing toward their designated positions for the formation.

 

It was as if the Heavenly Dao had been enraged by the resistance of mere ants; it unleashed its divine might. Amidst flashing lightning, massive pillars of thunder—each thick enough for dozens of people to encircle—crashed down from the heavens, threatening to split the earth in two. The ground shook violently; snakes and rodents fled, while insects scattered in panic.

 

“Team One, in position!”

 

“Team Two, in position!”

 

“Team Three, in position!”

 

…

 

“City A formation complete!”

 

“City C formation complete!”

 

“City W formation complete!”

 

…

 

Spirit police officers across the country sprang into action simultaneously, activating the formations in city after city.

 

These measures had originally been planned by the Anomaly Police, but as the Anomaly Police were currently under immense suppression, the Spirit police had stepped in to take over.

 

After all, the fundamental role of the Spirit police was absolute support.

 

City B faced even greater obstacles, as it bore the brunt of the Heavenly Dao’s intimidation. While Spirit Police in other districts could still manage to act, the Spirit Management Bureau in City B was completely paralyzed, forcing the Spirit police Bureau to take full control.

 

Yet, Spirit police officers were merely ordinary humans with abundant spiritual energy; how could they easily withstand such divine might?

 

Behind Ying Bujie, the Wheel of Dharme expanded explosively, forming a canopy that shielded them from the heavenly fire and thunderbolts. Meanwhile, Gao Shi wielded a massive axe, cleaving through the void with a violent strike that forcibly halted a seismic upheaval.

 

The roar of thunder transformed into a droning chorus of human voices—ancient, sacred words that resonated deep within their hearts. “The two of you might be able to protect a hundred or a thousand people, but how can you possibly protect the entire city?”

 

“I am the Heavenly Dao. Only when all things observe order and offer their essence back to me can the myriad races of living beings truly flourish.”

 

“Surrender the Spirit Flower, and the wrath of Heaven shall be appeased.”

 

As the voice rang out, strange visions suddenly manifested before the thousands of spirit police officers who were maintaining the formation.

 

They saw regrets buried deep in their hearts, pasts forever out of reach, the bitter frustration of sleepless nights, and hopes that could never be grasped.

 

Braving the onslaught of thunderbolts, Zhuang Xiuxiu smashed through the layer of concrete blocking the formation’s core with a single punch, revealing a small blade of grass growing in the soil. A drop of essence dripped from the jade talisman in her hand onto the grass; the blade trembled slightly and grew half an inch taller.

 

The essence within the talisman slowly coalesced once more; the more the grass grew, the more stable the formation became.

 

Her face was smudged with soot, and the sleeve of one arm was shredded, leaving the limb itself slightly charred—yet her expression remained unyieldingly resolute.

 

Just then, she heard someone softly call her name—

 

“Xiuxiu.”

 

She snapped her head up, her hand trembling so violently that the drop of essence nearly spilled.

 

Her boyfriend—who had died fighting supernatural entities—was standing right before her; amidst the dark, oppressive world, he was the only source of light.

 

He opened his arms, waiting for his girl to come and share a kiss.

 

“Xiuxiu, I’m back.”

 

…

 

Chang Yang bit down on a wasabi-flavored candy, his hands pressing firmly against the talisman paper.

 

This talisman was meant to be wielded by a supernatural officer immune to water and fire, but that officer had been pushed to the brink of unconsciousness by the might of Heaven, leaving Chang Yang to step in and take his place. The talisman burned in his palm; an indescribable, searing pain radiated from his hand through his entire body. He crunched down on the candy, refusing to think about the source of that faint aroma of roasting meat.

 

Just as the pain made him feel delirious, someone crouched beside him and asked with a grin, “Hey, dummy little brother, what are you sneaking a bite of? Sharing is caring—hurry up and give your big bro a taste!”

 

…

 

Xiong Xiong’s burly frame was curled up in a tiny corner; he carefully wedged himself into the vase. Despite the air being plentiful, he felt a strange, suffocating sensation.

 

At the bottom of the vase lay a small red groove. He took out the spiritual blood he had prepared and poured it over the spot, only to suddenly hear a voice whispering words of comfort right beside his ear.

 

“Big Bear, don’t be afraid. Grandpa is here.”

 

…

 

Sweat beaded on Ran Qiu’s forehead and dripped into his eyes. He wiped his face haphazardly, only to find the screen before him had shifted to a dark livestream.

 

A few youths—barely more than students—were pointing at that house with malicious grins. “Hey guys, our ‘model student’ just walked into the haunted house. Let’s see if he makes it out in one piece—hope he doesn’t wet his pants!”

 

Ran Qiu’s hands trembled, his face pressed almost against the screen. He was unaware that he was letting out involuntary, mournful sounds; even he didn’t know what those irrepressible whimpers were trying to express.

 

No… it couldn’t be… surely not…

 

“Qiuqiu, what are you looking at?”

 

Ran Qiu shuddered and turned his head blankly, seeing a boy with black-rimmed glasses—who looked a bit dorky—leaning in curiously. “Have you finished today’s homework? I’m done; if there’s anything you don’t understand, I can teach you.”

 

The boy glanced over, seemingly uninterested; he pulled a junior high textbook from his bag and smiled at Ran Qiu.

 

He looked exactly as he had at thirteen.

 

…

 

“Hey, Blockhead, where are we going?”

 

A figure clad in white sat in the passenger seat, gazing listlessly at the scenery ahead.

 

Huang Shan’s hand jerked; he barely managed to swerve around a massive pothole in the road.

 

“You stupid blockhead, why aren’t you saying anything?”

 

The white-clad figure seemed displeased; he huffed and crossed his arms. “If you don’t make golden shrimp balls tonight, I’m not talking to you anymore!”

 

Huang Shan’s vision blurred with tears.

 

He could barely restrain the urge to turn his head and look at the person he had waited ten years for…

 

Dong Xue.

 

…

 

Strange phenomena manifested all around him, and the name he had silently repeated a thousand times over in the dead of night suddenly appeared right before his eyes.

 

The previously stable grand formation instantly began to waver and turn illusory; lightning crashed down, and faint cracks started to appear across the array’s surface. The voice seemed to carry a mocking undertone as It softly asked them, “The human race is insignificant, and living beings are frail; without relying on the Heavenly Dao, how can you possibly survive?”

 

“Hand over the Spirit Flower, surrender your accumulated merit and immortal bones, and I shall withdraw.”

 

“Compared to Me, *you* are the very source of the disruption to this realm’s stability.”

 

Gao Shi had not yet regained his full power; he was currently nothing more than an ordinary mortal possessing memories of a past life—unable even to fly on his own, he relied on Ying Bujie to keep him airborne. Exhaustion had set in after his long journey and the strain of the recent clash.

 

He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the anxiety rising within him.

 

Upon hearing the voice of the Heavenly Dao, Ying Bujie’s gaze turned cold. He stepped in front of Gao Shi and pressed two fingers together; a strike from him sliced cleanly through the void.

 

“King Zhuanlun, do you think the Heavenly Dao would fear its own rules?”

 

Ying Bujie replied calmly, “The Heavenly Dao does not fear them, but neither does it violate them.”

 

The Heavenly Dao fell silent, save for the thunder that roared like the fury of the heavens.

 

Bolts of lightning crashed down ceaselessly, blotting out the sun and creating a scene that resembled the end of the world.

 

The intensifying pressure and calamities—combined with temptations and lures—weakened the protective formation until it flickered like a candle in the wind, on the verge of extinguishing at any moment.

 

Sensing that Gao Shi had not yet recovered his strength, the Heavenly Dao suddenly focused ninety percent of its crushing pressure directly upon him.

 

His legs buckled, but Ying Bujie caught him just in time. At that moment, celestial fire rained down alongside a torrential downpour; lightning flashed and the earth shook violently, as if the entire world had turned against them. Before Gao Shi’s eyes appeared the nightmare that had haunted him for over a decade.

 

Gao Gusheng, forced in childhood to beg as a street urchin.

 

Gao Gusheng, verbally abused at school by Wen Liang’s admirers.

 

Gao Gusheng, retrieving the proposal he had spent half a month staying up late to write from the freezing school fountain.

 

Gao Gusheng, put on display and humiliated like an object by Li Mochen.

 

Gao Gusheng, sitting before the ruins of the orphanage.

 

Gao Gusheng, facing the doubts of countless fans yet unable to defend himself.

 

Gao Gusheng, fleeing in panic through a thicket of thorns.

 

Gao Gusheng, deceived by Gui Yan and collapsing in the torrential rain.

 

Gao Gusheng, surrounded by a multitude of ghosts, tormented by nightmares day after day.

 

Gao Gusheng, driven into pariah status by the Ghost King’s machinations.

 

Gao Gusheng, oppressed by the Celestial Master, forced to watch helplessly as his closest friend was devoured.

 

It was the sodden bed.

 

It was the golden chain around his ankle.

 

It was the blood-stained rose.

 

It was the unattainable, radiant moon.

 

It was the judgmental fingers pointed at him online.

 

It was the warmth of ordinary life he could never touch.

 

It was the book fallen to the ground, never to be picked up again.

 

It was his child, suffering endless agony day and night.

 

“Lele…”

 

Every version of Gao Gusheng—the toddler, the youth, the young man.

 

The pristine, the bloodied, the broken.

 

All of them were weeping, reaching out their hands to him.

 

“Dad, it hurts so much.”

 

“Dad, save me.”

 

“Dad, why weren’t you by my side?”

 

…

 

Golden light flickered between his brows, and the hiss of a golden serpent echoed in his ears; the illusions before him and the pain in his body made it nearly impossible to distinguish fantasy from reality.

 

Yet, he bit down hard on the tip of his tongue, clinging to a thread of clarity. Something is wrong… something is wrong…

 

…

 

Ying Bujie, puzzled, turned the Wheel of Dharma in his hand; he wrapped his left arm around Gao Shi and whispered, “Do not fear.”

 

Gazing straight up at the firmament, he slowly turned the wheel.

 

With the first turn, golden light emerged; with the second, a subduing might arose; with the third, thunderbolts crashed down; with the fourth, all living beings trembled in awe.

 

His white robes billowed fiercely against the vast sky; as silvery-white spiritual energy poured into the artifact, it was as if a bright moon had risen against the pitch-black canopy of heaven.

 

His gaze remained calm—his Great Dao utterly unaffected by the Heavenly Dao—yet the flow of spiritual energy was shackled, unable to fully sustain him. Forced to expend his own inner essence, his face turned deathly pale in the blink of an eye. A single drop of blood fell from the corner of his mouth onto the side of Gao Shi’s head, while a tiny golden serpent struggled there, letting out a silent, agonized wail.

 

Gao Shi thought: *This isn’t right.*

 

His child—though having endured many hardships in this life—had lived a largely peaceful and smooth existence, surrounded by family and close friends, and loved by all.

 

This dream… it was merely a dream.

 

It could *only* be a dream.

 

At the center of his brow, the golden light finally stabilized, then split into four streams.

 

As if summoned, two golden dragons burst through layers of heavenly calamity and descended upon the formation, forcibly stabilizing it.

 

The long axe in his hand emitted a clear, resonant hum, echoing the dragons’ roars from afar.

 

The golden serpent at his ear clamped down on his lobe; white fur sprouted across his face, and his legs—encased in golden light—transformed into tiger paws. In the blink of an eye, his form had changed completely.

 

In the West dwells a deity: a being with a human face, white fur, and tiger paws, standing upon the Western Slope, holding a battle-axe.

 

He remembered.

 

He remembered his name. Ru Shou.

 

##

---