Chapter 721: Slaughter Plan

Chapter 721: The Purge Plan

Seeing Zhang Yu hesitate without taking action, Fu Xiantian frowned slightly and said, “What? Are you worried that after cultivating this dark art, I’ll use it as leverage to blackmail you?”

“You’d be sorely underestimating me if that’s what you think.”

Zhang Yu gave an awkward chuckle. Truth be told, he hadn’t even considered that just now.

The main issue was that the Hell Soul-Washing Scripture before him contained only the first-level introductory content—an incomplete, fragmented technique.

“I have a habit,” Zhang Yu said, looking directly at Fu Xiantian. “I never cultivate incomplete techniques.”

“You’ve already come all this way,” he continued, “and you’ve already given it to me. Why not just hand over the complete version of the Hell Soul-Washing Scripture while you’re at it?”

Fu Xiantian remained silent, simply staring at Zhang Yu until the latter laughed uneasily again and said, “Fine, fine—if you won’t give it, then don’t.”

Fu Xiantian spoke calmly, “If you’re willing to join the Righteous Alliance, once you do, we’ll be comrades walking the same path. Then, whether it’s military-grade techniques or immortal sect methods—I’ll transmit them all to you without reservation.”

“But for now, I can only give you the first-level method.”

Zhang Yu turned his attention back to the contents of the Hell Soul-Washing Scripture and realized it was far more difficult than he’d initially assumed.

“It requires setting up ritual arrays, tempering reincarnative spiritual power, aligning with the will of Heaven… ultimately establishing communion with the hidden Heavenly Dao of reincarnation…”

The more he read, the more he sensed that even this brief introductory section brimmed with profound mysteries, touching upon the deepest enigmas of the Kunxu realm.

The past-life memories it awakened weren’t unlocked from one’s own mind—they were insights gleaned directly from the cycle of Heavenly Dao reincarnation.

This was precisely the first step by which the Hell Soul-Washing Scripture manipulated the cosmic wheel of rebirth—the very foundation of its cultivation.

Merely reading this introductory portion, Zhang Yu inwardly surmised that Fu Xiantian and Ying Xintian likely did possess the capability to forcibly shift souls from Layers 2 through 5 into reincarnation within their so-called New World.

At the same time, a question arose in his mind.

Zhang Yu closed the document on the Hell Soul-Washing Scripture displayed in his Eye Relic and said aloud, “I have a question.”

Fu Xiantian asked, “Aren’t you going to practice it first—to verify whether the method is genuine?”

Zhang Yu glanced at his Feather Scroll, which remained blank, stubbornly refusing to manifest the scripture. He understood clearly now that the scroll had once again held him back.

Fortunately, his own profound foundation allowed him to discern the extraordinary value of the Hell Soul-Washing Scripture.

He said calmly, “No need. From my brief contemplation just now, I’ve grasped the essence of this technique well enough. I believe you truly do possess the means to manipulate reincarnation.”

Hearing this, Fu Xiantian gave a slight nod, thinking to himself: No wonder Master chose this man—his talent in the Immortal Path is indeed among the absolute elite.

“But here’s the problem,” Zhang Yu continued. “You claim that everyone who dies in Layers 2 through 5 will eventually be reborn into the New World.”

“After rebirth… will they awaken memories of their past lives?”

Fu Xiantian answered firmly, “Absolutely not.”

“The reincarnation system of the New World will operate entirely naturally—no interference from any mortal hand will be permitted.”

“As for awakening past-life wisdom? That is strictly forbidden.”

“If past-life memories could be retained, what would be the point of imposing the 1,500-year lifespan limit? Anyone who retained such memories would inevitably become yet another generation of undying old monsters, oppressing the world and suffocating it with stagnation and decay.”

“Therefore, no person, no living being—once reborn in the New World—shall retain any memory of their previous existence.”

Fu Xiantian declared resolutely, “Whether it’s the countless beings of Layers 2 through 5, Master, myself, or even you—none shall violate this rule. When we journey to the New World, exhaust our lifespans there, and are reborn after death, we will remember nothing of our former selves.”

Though Zhang Yu had anticipated this answer, hearing it confirmed still struck him with shock.

But what Fu Xiantian said next chilled him to the bone.

“In Layers 2 through 5 today,” Fu Xiantian continued, “every soul is deeply rooted in demonic corruption—beyond redemption.”

“If we don’t employ drastic measures, this poison will spread endlessly. Even if they enter the New World, they’ll merely continue along Kunxu’s doomed trajectory.”

“Now, precisely because reincarnation erases past-life memories, we have the perfect opportunity for purification.”

He fixed his gaze on Zhang Yu and spoke slowly, word by word: “We must ensure every single being in Layers 2 through 5 is reborn into the New World—to begin anew, utterly free from Kunxu’s lingering toxins.”

Zhang Yu’s body trembled. He stared at Fu Xiantian in disbelief. “You intend to slaughter them all? Kill every last person in Layers 2 through 5?”

Fu Xiantian frowned. “They won’t die. They’ll simply begin anew.”

Zhang Yu glared at him, fury rising in his voice. “If they won’t even retain their memories after rebirth—how is that any different from death?”

Fu Xiantian waved his hand dismissively, his tone icy. “How can you say there’s no difference?”

“Perhaps they won’t remember. Perhaps they won’t know. Perhaps they’ll never understand. But you and I—we know. We understand. They’ve escaped Kunxu. They’ve escaped lifetimes of suffering, poverty, and oppression.”

Zhang Yu furrowed his brow. “But without memories, without any trace of their existence in this world, without anything they’ve ever known—their future selves in the New World have nothing to do with who they are now.”

The thought of his teacher, his companions, his classmates, his fellow townspeople—all to be slaughtered by Fu Xiantian and cast into oblivion—was unbearable.

Fu Xiantian countered, “How many people remember anything before age three? How many recall their time in the womb? Does forgetting mean they died as infants?”

He looked straight at Zhang Yu. “Memory was never essential to the existence or proof of life. It’s merely an asset. If you lack the resolve to discard even this asset, how can you possibly forge a New World?”

Zhang Yu retorted, “Memories shape everything we’ve been—they form our character, our beliefs, the very core of who we are. If not only our bodies but even our memories are utterly erased, what connection remains between our future reborn selves and who we are now?”

“Aren’t you just massacring an entire world’s population to build another?”

Fu Xiantian replied coldly, “Precisely. If that’s how you choose to see it, so be it. Yes, we are sacrificing one world to birth another. This is sacrifice—the sacrifice of all sentient beings’ pasts to secure their futures.”

“I’ve told you before: transformation demands sacrifice. Did you really imagine it would be some harmonious utopia where everyone benefits?”

“To sacrifice their past for the sake of their future—that is already the best possible outcome…”

Seeing Zhang Yu about to object again, Fu Xiantian sighed. “Zhang Yu, surely you don’t believe that once you join the Righteous Alliance, I’ll let your companions—Bai Zhenzhen, Yu Xinghan, Le Mulan—and all the rest live peacefully into the New World?”

“If that’s your expectation, then what of your teacher? Ciji Shenjun? Qingmu Shenjun? Should I spare them too?”

Zhang Yu stared at him, saying nothing.

Fu Xiantian pressed on. “And your classmates? Ying Xin, Shi Huaiyu, Feng Tingting… and so on.”

“Your fellow townspeople—Zhao Tianxing, Mo Tianyi, Hu Yuntao—you wouldn’t want them to die either, would you?”

“And your teacher’s disciples, your classmates’ classmates, your townspeople’s kin—surely they all wish to survive too?”

“If you keep saving them one by one like this, will you eventually rescue even the beasts beneath their saddles?”

“Fine. Suppose they all follow you into the New World, carrying Kunxu’s memories with them. What then, to those who remember nothing? What will they become?”

“They’ll become the new Celestial Court, the new sects, the new immortals.”

Fu Xiantian stepped forward until he stood face-to-face with Zhang Yu. A fierce battle intent radiated from his body—a will to defy Heaven and Earth, to shatter all obstacles.

Under the pressure of this overwhelming aura, Zhang Yu felt the surrounding Spirit Realm sever completely. All his magical treasures and relic constructs seemed to freeze mid-function; video and audio recordings ceased entirely.

At some unknown moment, Fu Xiantian’s words had stopped traveling through sound or Spirit Realm signals—they now transmitted directly into Zhang Yu’s mind.

Zhang Yu’s heart clenched. He realized Fu Xiantian’s Dao-heart and mental cultivation had grown so potent that they could now subtly influence reality through Spirit Realm information itself.

“Zhang Yu,” Fu Xiantian glared at him, “we’re forging a New World, establishing a New Cycle—not so we can bring our own people along to recreate another Kunxu.”

“If that were our goal, why would we abandon our sects and immortals’ resources?”

“Right here, right now, Master and I could obtain everything—far beyond your imagination.”

His eyes flickered with disdain as he looked at Zhang Yu. “If joining us meant you could ferry everyone into the New World to become its new immortals, then our vision would be no grander than theirs. What kind of New World would that be?”

Zhang Yu took a deep breath. “I cannot endorse this massacre. And must you really kill everyone? Why not bring them all over and gradually transform them, year by year, generation by generation?”

“Do you think we haven’t tried?” Fu Xiantian shot back coldly. “But as long as the Celestial Court, the sects, the immortals remain embedded in their memories—as long as they still believe these entities hold ultimate power—nothing will ever change.”

“Or perhaps you think we should first defeat the Celestial Court, storm the sects, and vanquish the immortals?”

Fu Xiantian sighed, “Those who once harbored such thoughts have long since had their souls scattered to the winds. Anyone still thinking this way now… can only be called childish, arrogant, and ignorant.”

“Such people have no idea how high the celestial stairs truly rise, nor do they grasp the unfathomable depths of an immortal’s cultivation.”

“Knowing nothing, yet spouting grandiose words, believing themselves capable of perfectly resolving everything…”

Having spoken, Fu Xiantian turned his gaze back upon Zhang Yu. “I came here to see whether you possess the worth to walk the same path as I.”

His eyes fixed upon Zhang Yu, as though striving to pierce through every secret within him, he asked slowly, word by deliberate word: “Zhang Yu, I ask you once more—will you join me in annihilating all living beings and forging a new world?”

Zhang Yu met Fu Xiantian’s stare without flinching, his voice resolute: “Fu Xiantian, I will never let you slaughter everyone.”

Fu Xiantian shook his head, his figure gradually fading away.

“It seems you ultimately lack the capacity to create a new world.”

“But for Master’s sake, I shall grant you one final chance.”

As he spoke, Fu Xiantian’s form vanished entirely, leaving only his words echoing within Zhang Yu’s mind:

“Once I have eradicated all ten sects’ Nascent Soul cultivators, if you remain obstinate and unrepentant… I shall carry out Master’s judgment myself—and strike you down as well.”

“I shall send you into the new world with my own hands.”

(End of Chapter)