Unintended Immortality
Chapter 568: One Last Look at the Treasures Before Death

Chapter 568: One Last Look at the Treasures Before Death

Song You smiled faintly and halted his movements.

The swirling spiritual resonance on the glass platform immediately stopped. Then, he simply stood still, letting the yellow wind blow past him.

“Whoosh...”

Within the wind, countless razor-sharp blades seemed to be hidden. Wherever it passed, the grand hall’s pillars crumbled into dust, bricks and tiles disintegrated, and even the stone beneath his feet—indeed, the entire mountain—began to erode. This wind could reduce all things in the world to the finest specks of dust, as if it carried the weight of endless ages, using time itself to weather everything away.

“Buzz!”

A streak of spiritual light flared up, shielding against the yellow wind.

Song You turned his gaze toward the distant sky, where a swallow flitted through the clouds, then to the horse that had retreated to the foot of the mountain, and finally to the young girl atop the tiger’s back, clutching her flag as she commanded her army of demons.

He exhaled a breath of pure air, meeting the yellow wind head-on.

The two forces collided, nullifying each other. The clear breath and the yellow wind—both vanished into nothingness.

Only mist and rain remained between heaven and earth.

“.....”

The big-bellied monk furrowed his brows, his eyes filled with caution.

This was clearly not an even match.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the water-element spiritual resonance still resting on the multicolored glass platform.

He made his decision.

A heavy weight settled in his heart, yet his face remained plastered with a beaming smile.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed his palms together.

Suddenly, a brilliant burst of Buddhist light radiated from him, illuminating the skies with divine majesty. His smiling face seemed even more benevolent, his figure radiating an aura of sanctity.

“Whoosh!!”

The yellow wind howled even more fiercely, now tinged with golden light.

This time, it no longer eroded everything in its path. Instead, it thickened the air, distorting heaven and earth.

Without realizing it, the very world around them had shifted.

Song You saw the golden Buddhist light illuminating half the sky. He saw the fat monk’s smiling visage, so eerily like a Buddha statue.

Then, as the light faded and that smiling face dissolved into the void—

Everything around him had disappeared.

Above him, only a vast sky, choked with heavy storm clouds. Lightning crisscrossed the heavens, and raindrops, like falling stars, streaked down in white torrents.

Beneath his feet lay endless mountain forests, but between him and the ground stretched hundreds of zhang of empty space, shrouded in layers of mist and rain.

He was already high in the sky.

“Swish!”

In the next second, the Daoist began to fall. The wind roared past his ears. Yet, his posture and expression remained completely still.

“Boom!”

A bolt of lightning streaked past him. The falling raindrops, once ahead of him, were quickly caught up, then left behind as he descended even faster. His cheeks turned cold and damp in an instant.

The misty rain below grew closer and closer.

“Whoosh!”

His figure plunged straight through the thick rain and fog. For a fleeting moment, his vision blurred, as if a sheer, translucent veil had been momentarily draped over his eyes—only to be swiftly lifted again. When his sight cleared, the dense mountain forest was right before him.

Tree branches, bird nests, fallen leaves, and puddles—all rushed toward him, becoming sharper and more distinct with every passing instant.

The earth loomed ahead, an overwhelming force rushing up to meet him. The sensation of freefall carried with it a strange, exhilarating awareness.

But the Daoist remained unshaken—

Not to mention that, ever since he had met the swallow in Anqing ten years ago, he had often traveled the skies in just this manner, viewing the world from above. Even without that experience, something as trivial as falling would not make him flinch.

This was a mere illusion. To fear it would make it real, and to disregard it would render it false.

And the Daoist was well-versed in combat magic. Yet, he did not even bother using a spell to resist.

In the blink of an eye, the ground was upon him.

Song You plunged through the treetops, feeling the brush of leaves against his face. He struck a spiderweb that had not yet been destroyed by the wind and rain. Below him, a shallow depression had just filled with water, forming a small pool. The surface rippled, reflecting the trees above, the stormy sky, and the writhing lightning that lashed through the clouds.

Everything felt utterly real.

For a moment, it almost seemed as if the demon had truly hurled him into the sky, intending to send him crashing to his death.

“Splash!”

The Daoist “plunged” into the water.

“...”

Yet, he neither hit the pool nor collided with the earth. Instead, with a single splash, he passed right through.

The water surface was not water at all—it was another sky. A sky of infinite depth, thick with rolling storm clouds, where serpentine lightning slithered and crackled.

And the bolts of lightning, reversed in direction, now lashed toward him from below.

Still, the Daoist did not move, his expression unchanged, as if standing in midair—only now, he was falling upward into this sky.

Gravity had reversed. The fear of plummeting into the sky was an entirely different kind of terror from falling toward the ground.

The earth was solid. Fall from a great height, and an ordinary person will shatter upon impact. However, its height was ultimately limited. Those with cultivation might find ways to survive the fall.

But the sky was far vaster than the earth. It was boundless, infinite, and bottomless. To fall into it was like plummeting into an endless abyss. You would never know how long you might keep falling, as if you would never reach the end.

At the same time, the sky beneath him and the earth above began to spin.

Or perhaps it was the Daoist himself who was spinning.

“Heh...”

With a casual wave of his hand, the spinning abruptly ceased. His body steadied once more.

The storm clouds below drew closer and closer. He could now see the churning, dense mist rolling within the winds. He could even see the very source of the lightning—bolts of thunder flashing, striking toward him.

“Boom!”

The Daoist’s expression did not change.

“Whoosh...”

He plunged into the storm clouds.

The thick mist shrouded all light and vision. Passing through the damp air made it impossible to keep his eyes open. His robes and hair, already soaked, became even heavier as they absorbed more moisture.

Yet, the storm clouds had an end.

“Swish!”

He emerged from the clouds.

But what awaited him was not an open expanse of blue sky—it was another vast stretch of land.

The wind still howled in his ears, and he was still falling. Yet now, the earth seemed to have turned upright. Or perhaps gravity had once again shifted direction.

Now, to his left was the land—rolling mountains and meadows stretching endlessly.

Behind him was the sky. But it had turned clear, a bright expanse of blue filled with drifting white clouds. Compared to the stormy sky from before, laced with writhing lightning, this peaceful blue was even deeper, even more terrifying.

The Daoist fell parallel to the land.

Yet his face remained unchanged, his expression serene, as if he had never moved from the ruined mountaintop where he had stood before.

He even had the leisure to turn his head and admire the mountains and rivers beside him.

This place—wherever it was—was beautiful. Mountains lush, waters clear.

The Daoist collided with the treetops at the mountain’s peak, skimmed over a stream, brushed past the tops of a bamboo grove, passed by a thatched cottage, and caught the scent of food drifting through the curling smoke. Ahead, it was the height of spring. He passed through a cluster of peach blossoms, unintentionally picking up a few traces of their fragrant pink.

Then, from the earth, a towering mountain rose, jutting out from the ground—and the Daoist crashed headlong into its side.

Darkness enveloped him. It was another endless, deep night sky.

He was falling without end. It felt as if it would never stop, as though a lifetime would be spent in this strange, unending descent. Tasting the wind and the weightlessness, he had no way to escape.

“So this is the sorcery of this place?” Song You murmured with a smile, gripping his bamboo staff and tapping lightly.

At this moment, he was sinking into clouds as soft as cotton. The tip of his staff lifted slightly, seemingly pressing against empty space, yet the radiant spiritual light upon it struck as though upon solid ground.

“The air is pure and the skies are bright, all things are revealed!”

A wave of Qingming spiritual energy surged forth, dispelling all illusions.

At once, the entire world was punctured, torn open like fragile paper. Everything within it turned to light, rapidly folding in on itself, shrinking away, and vanishing in an instant.

Song You remained where he had always been—standing tall amidst the ruins atop the mountain.

He had never fallen. Not only had he avoided crashing to the ground, but his feet had never even moved. Drenched in rain, he looked ahead at the fat-bellied monk.

The monk, however, wore an expression of pure shock.

“How did you escape?”

“I possess an extraordinary heart,” the Daoist answered offhandedly, studying the monk’s movements.

An ordinary demon or cultivator—without an unwavering heart, without enough experience in combat, without keen eyes to spot the flaws in the spell—would have shattered into pieces upon their first descent into that “illusory realm.” But for someone with enough cultivation, such a trick was futile.

This demon had likely intended to trap him in an endless fall, letting time slowly wear him down. If the fall didn’t kill him, then at least he would be imprisoned there forever—falling for eternity, never escaping.

But realizing too soon that it wouldn’t work, the monk had then attempted to snatch away the spiritual resonance and retreat. Yet no matter how he tried, the resonance remained immovable.

Unwilling to abandon it nor flee, he seized the opportunity to try and kill Song You instead. Even his protective spiritual light had already been weakened.

What he never expected was for Song You to break free so quickly.

Now, the fat-bellied monk clutched a small, high-necked bottle that seemed to be made of crystalline ice, retreating rapidly to put distance between them.

Despite his enormous, corpulent body, he moved with startling speed, retreating on the wind, his layers of fat quivering with each step.

The Daoist pressed his staff into the ground and stepped forward once. Instantly, he caught up.

But just as he did, the monk—now already leaping from one mountain to another—turned and pointed the mouth of the bottle at him.

Buddhist light coiled around his body as he chanted an incantation in an incomprehensible tongue.

“Divine Ice of Mount Tian, lend me your cold!”

“Whoosh...”

A frigid blast erupted from the bottle’s mouth.

Its spiritual resonance was so intense that it sent a shiver through the very air—so chilling it called to mind the scorching flames at the entrance of Flame Mountain, far west of Shazhou, where the Flaming Sun True Lord reigned.

Song You halted immediately. Then, lifting his head, he raised his hand and pushed forward.

“Boom!”

A surge of True Fire burst forth from the Daoist’s hand.

The fire clashed against the icy chill.

Ice and fire were naturally opposed—unable to merge, yet neither dissipating the other immediately. Instead, their collision erupted with a world-shaking spiritual force, scattering the storm clouds, wind, and rain from the heavens.

However, the chill from the bottle, like the flames at the mouth of Flame Mountain, had been nurtured for countless years. Now, unleashed all at once, it surged forward with overwhelming intensity. The Daoist's mastery of fire arts was not on par with the Flaming Sun True Lord, and now, caught off guard, he had to counter it hastily.

In mere moments, his flames faltered.

The frigid air wrapped around them, devouring them.

“Whoosh...”

The True Fire swiftly dissipated, while the icy chill continued its relentless advance. This battle of fire and ice held no suspense.

The Daoist had barely registered, “So this is the source,” before the cold had already reached him.

A truly staggering force of spiritual resonance.

“Crack!”

In an instant, ice engulfed him. Not just him—the entire mountain was frozen over.

It was clear this was no natural phenomenon of the seasons. What blanketed the mountain was not snow but an immense layer of Divine Ice, thick and bitterly cold.

Meanwhile, the fat-bellied monk remained suspended in the air, holding the ice bottle aloft.

From its mouth, the Divine Ice’s frigid spiritual resonance poured forth ceaselessly, as if intending to transform the entire mountain into a glacier. The spreading cold crept beyond, gradually icing over the nearby peaks, enshrouding them in a thick, crystalline frost.

Only when the bottle’s mouth ceased exhaling its deadly chill did he stop.

“...”

The monk gave the bottle a shake. Looking down, he saw the Daoist completely encased in ice, an unmoving statue. Satisfied, he bobbed his head and sighed in relief, a grin spreading across his face.

“What does it matter if your Dao is profound? I wield ice nurtured for eons—divine beings and Buddhas alike would turn to frozen sculptures before me.”

Just as he turned to leave, a voice spoke beside him.

“Where did the chill beneath your feet come from?”

“...!”

The fat-bellied monk was startled and spun around instantly.

Beside him stood a Daoist, perfectly unharmed. He held a bamboo staff and stood effortlessly upon the wind, gazing at the monk with a calm, steady expression.

Looking down, the mountain was unchanged, and the ice remained. The frozen Daoist statue still stood intact.

At the same time, the Daoist standing in the wind raised a finger, releasing a point of radiance. It shimmered with pure, unyielding yang energy—like a miniature sun—falling upon the frozen mountain below.

The ice melted away in an instant. And within it, the Daoist statue vanished without a trace.

The fat-bellied monk's face twisted in shock.

Glancing at his now-empty crystal bottle, he wasted no time—transforming into a gust of yellow wind, fleeing at an astonishing speed.

“Whoosh!”

A swallow swooped overhead, leaving behind a single feather. Upon closer look, it wasn't a feather. It was a snow-white fan, no larger than a plume.

“Perfect timing.”

The Daoist extended his hand, and the fan landed gently in his palm, immediately expanding to its normal size.

You have your treasures, and I have mine.

With a simple motion, he fanned in the direction of the fleeing monk.

“...”

Silently, without a sound, the yellow wind collapsed to the ground.

The Daoist now closed the distance.

“Boom!”

Lightning roared down from the heavens, carrying divine authority.

The fat-bellied monk, still clad in his golden monk robes, remained as plump as ever.

But now, his robes were singed and scorched, and the usual grin on his face had vanished, replaced by sheer panic as he stared at the Daoist before him.

“Will you spare me?” His voice carried a faint Western accent.

“No.” The Daoist’s response was firm and unhesitant.

“Then make it quick!”

“You are rather straightforward. Admirable.”

As Song You spoke, he raised a hand.

From the distant mountains, the high-necked crystal bottle flew into his grasp. The spiritual energy within remained potent.

“But before that, I have one question—this chilling resonance, so extraordinary in its power—where does it come from?”

“...”

The fat-bellied monk stared at him, eyes flickering with hesitation.

Just as Song You expected him to bargain and say, ‘Spare me, and I’ll tell you’. The monk instead gritted his teeth and declared, “Show me that treasure again, and I’ll tell you!”

“Fine. Speak first.”

“Show me first.”

“...”

Song You sighed and waved his hand.

A flash of waterlight streaked across the sky, and the spiritual resonance landed in his palm.

“Speak first.”

If any rational person—or even a relatively clear-minded demon—had witnessed this scene, they would have immediately realized that the so-called water-element spiritual resonance was nothing more than a baited trap set by the Daoist.

Yet, at this moment, the fat-bellied monk's eyes were fixed solely on the spiritual resonance in the Daoist’s hand, as if his entire being had been consumed by it. He murmured in a daze:

“Nine hundred li southeast of Jade City, beyond Mount Tian, there lies another Mount Tian, towering into the clouds. Within the mountains, there exists a divine glacial lake, imbued with millennia of chilling spiritual resonance. Few have ever reached it.”

“Thank you.”

“The treasure! Give me the treasure!”

Song You studied him for a long moment before casually tossing the spiritual resonance.

It drifted gently toward the fat-bellied monk.

His eyes immediately burned with fervor. His gaze was locked onto the spiritual resonance, his expression one of awe and longing. He muttered incessantly under his breath, and no one knew what he was saying.

“Boom!”

A blazing fire erupted, instantly engulfing him.

Yet even as his body was reduced to ashes, he never once looked away from the spiritual resonance. Not a single cry of pain escaped his lips.

His greed had seeped into his very bones. He was beyond salvation.