Mo Tianyu could never have imagined how close he came to being doused to death with a ladle of manure.

  Fortunately, he remained blissfully unaware.

  Dissolving his body in the starry sky demanded tremendous courage and resolve. Reaching his current cultivation hadn't been easy, but deep down, he knew he'd hit his limit.

  Further breakthroughs seemed impossible.

  That's why he chose this path—to temper and elevate his soul through reincarnation.

  Tonggu Daoist didn't interfere, granting him this rare opportunity.

  But for anyone else hoping to follow Mo Tianyu's method to Azure Planet—forget it.

  This was Mo Tianyu's unique fortune.

  After watering his vegetables, Tonggu Daoist ambled back to his wooden cabin. As the sun dipped westward, he embodied serene leisure: picking chrysanthemums beneath the eastern hedge, gazing idly at the southern hills.

  Rocking in his chair, carefree and content.

  His gaze leveled, quietly observing the life Mo Tianyu was about to live on Azure.

  Mo Tianyu had sealed his consciousness—a pure, unadulterated reincarnation. Only breaking through to the second soul layer would awaken his previous life's memories.

  A baby's wail echoed from a prince's mansion in a mortal kingdom on Azure.

  The heavens themselves shifted in phenomenon.

  The anomaly shocked the entire mansion and rippled through the capital.

  After all, heavenly signs at birth carried weight for the nation—even alerting the imperial family.

  The young lord was born clutching three copper coins in his tiny fist, leaving everyone exchanging baffled glances.

  But perhaps because of the celestial omen, whispers reached the emperor: aside from the Son of Heaven, who else's birth could summon such signs?

  This bred unease in the emperor's heart.

  To avoid suspicion, the prince distanced himself from the newborn, ignoring him entirely. This gradually eased the vigilance of imperial watchers.

  The young lord grew, named not Mo Tianyu but Mo Yu. The prince had originally intended "Tianyu," but fearing the "Tian" character implied treason, he settled on "Yu."

  Mo Yu matured, always clutching those copper coins. His intellect was demonic—prodigious and precocious.

  He saw through the capital's political storms early, understanding the emperor's wariness stemmed solely from his birth omens.

  Mo Yu sneered inwardly: gods and ghosts? Mere superstition.

  Yet gripping his coins, he refused fate's dictates—but loved divination all the same.

  Not frivolous fortune-telling, but calculations rooted in observed laws of heaven and earth.

  A profound discipline requiring study of astronomy, geography, and myriad specialized knowledge.

  Mo Yu immersed himself, channeling his monstrous intellect into divination.

  This very obsession eased the emperor's guard.

  Mo Yu loved divination, but thinking even more.

  He'd fixate on subjects with total absorption.

  A blooming peach tree in the courtyard—he'd stare unblinking, pondering growth, flourishing, and wilting.

  Through such intimate encounters with the world, his thoughts expanded ceaselessly.

  As imperial scrutiny waned, the prince began reconnecting with Mo Yu—perhaps to compensate for early neglect.

  But Mo Yu had already formed his own worldview.

  Blending scientific divination with a burning desire to explore the vast world, he proposed leaving the mansion to wander.

  Nearly earned a broken leg from his father.

  Confined to the capital, Mo Yu set up a street stall, divining fates for passersby.

  The prince fumed in embarrassment—a noble son peddling superstitions?

  In this era of contending schools of thought, the prince had even sought renowned tutors.

  Yet his wayward heir chose street fortune-telling—flashy nonsense.

  Fate? Mysterious and incalculable.

  In rage, the prince sent men to smash the stall.

  Mo Yu remained unfazed.

  Smashed today, rebuilt tomorrow.

  The prince eventually relented, letting him be.

  Soon, Mo Yu's divination fame spread through the capital—why?

  Because his readings were hopelessly inaccurate. Never once correct.

  Yet as a prince's son, having him divine your fate was an honor.

  Crowds flocked.

  A butcher sought a reading for his three-hundred-jin daughter's marriage prospects.

  Mo Yu tossed his coins, scanned the hexagram: "Worst possible sign. Your daughter will never marry."

  The butcher seethed but dared not strike nobility.

  Three days later, the daughter wed successfully—with a five-thousand-tael dowry.

  The capital buzzed; Mo Yu's face darkened.

  The hexagram clearly foretold lifelong solitude.

  His reading couldn't be wrong—the only explanation: the butcher twisted fate with money.

  Truly, wealth bends all!

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Mo Yu sighed.

  A month later, imperial examinations arrived.

  Scholars flooded the capital.

  Two heard of the noble-born diviner and visited to curry favor.

  Seeking simple readings: success in the exams?

  Business! Mo Yu perked up.

  Tossed coins for the first: shook his head.

  "Worst sign. Poor prospects—you'll fail."

  The scholar huffed away, displeased.

  For the second: "Best possible sign. You'll pass blindfolded."

  Hexagrams don't lie!

  The scholar left beaming.

  Days later, results posted...

  The "worst sign" scholar placed third overall.

  The "best sign" one failed miserably.

  When the failed scholar returned red-eyed, the capital exploded.

  Mo Yu's "poison divination" reputation spread like wildfire.

  Facing the furious man, Mo Yu packed hastily and fled home.

  Lest he get beaten.

  His methods were scientific—why always wrong?

  Word reached even the emperor, who laughed uproariously.

  Once sleepless over Mo Yu's birth omens, now relieved at this dandy's antics.

  "Mo Yu fancies divination? Summon him. I'd like to see this lad."

  Thus, the prince dragged Mo Yu to court, sternly warning silence.

  Audience granted.

  "Heard you excel at divination. Very accurate. Read for Us..."

  "Divine the Qing Province rebellion—when will it end?"

  The emperor smiled.

  Mo Yu knew: the grand general led troops; suppression seemed certain.

  No refusal. Tossed coins.

  "Your Majesty, the hexagram shows resolution in three days..."

  The emperor roared with laughter, stroking his beard.

  Three days later: front-line report—the general blundered disastrously. Qing Province worsened, hints of foreign interference.

  The emperor paled as if seeing ghosts.

  Some force at play?

  Mo Yu's divinations—poisonous?

  Near-certain victory, ruined by one reading?

  He shuddered in relief—not asking for national fortune.

  A "great prosperity" might doom him overnight.

  Mo Tianyu's poison divination nearly made observing Tonggu Daoist roll off his lounge in laughter.

  This single reading catapulted Mo Yu to fame: "Poison Divination Little Prince" echoed through the capital, even nationwide.

  The emperor fully relaxed his guard.

  The prince stopped restraining him—no more forcing scholarly pursuits.

  At fifteen, Mo Yu shouldered his pack and left the capital, wandering the world while divining.

  He encountered thinkers from myriad schools, clashing and exchanging ideas.

  Ten years passed; Mo Yu founded his own school. Once solitary, now followed by disciples.

  Seeking knowledge, he climbed towering mountains for reclusive masters.

  Trekked borders, gleaning truth amid wars.

  His poison divination fame followed his footsteps, blanketing the world.

  He even ventured beyond his nation, traversing all Azure.

  Discovering their world was spherical—not the ancient "heaven round, earth square."

  Returning to the capital, he compiled his theories into books.

  Publication sparked uproar.

  No longer boy, Mo Yu bore responsibility.

  Scholars denounced his folly, heretical nonsense corrupting minds.

  Poets cursed him eternally infamous.

  Mo Yu remained unfazed. Under global condemnation, he stayed serene—clinging to his pursuit of truth through understanding the world.

  Even as his divinations never hit, he held firm.

  The old prince, aging, sought him for a long talk—urging compromise with convention.

  Mo Yu stood resolute.

  Through relentless tempering and clashes with contending thoughts, his soul layer elevated ceaselessly.

  At fifty, the old emperor died; the new ascended.

  Once "poisoned" by Mo Yu's reading, the new emperor loathed him.

  Decree: cease heretical teachings.

  The world a sphere? Absurd.

  Mo Yu smiled carefree, persisting.

  This enraged the emperor.

  Order: imprison Mo Yu.

  Mo Yu indifferent, laughing lightly.

  Disciples fled one by one—worldly pressure unbearable.

  Yet one young disciple remained loyal.

  Visiting prison, Mo Yu recited while the boy compiled his teachings.

  Visit by visit, the doctrines took book form.

  The emperor, plagued by rebellions and Mo Yu's unyielding stubbornness, grew irate.

  He visited the cell, demanding submission.

  Mo Yu unwavering.

  Fury: execution at noon tomorrow.

  The emperor stormed out.

  Mo Yu, shackled, burst into laughter.

  Tossed his three coins, divining for the emperor.

  "Since Your Majesty is so enthusiastic, this criminal shall read your fortune—national destiny."

  Laughter echoed.

  The emperor halted, turning as coins landed.

  "This hexagram... great national prosperity."

  Leaning against cold bars, Mo Yu smiled at him.

  The emperor trembled inexplicably.

  Unease—aware of the poison divination legend.

  Back at palace, reviewing front-line reports of victories, he relaxed.

  Nation thriving, borders triumphant—Mo Yu merely bluffing.

  Next day, noon.

  Mo Yu knelt at execution platform, overseen by the once "worst sign" scholar—now high official.

  Gaze flickering, Mo Yu reviewed his life—like fleeting illusions.

  "His Majesty offers: recant your heresies, strip noble title, demote to commoner—but spare your life."

  The overseer said.

  Mo Yu shook his head.

  He pursued truth; the world merely blind, veiled from reality.

  He was but a pebble rippling the river of truth.

  The overseer sighed helplessly.

  Dropped the token.

  "Execute!"

  The executioner's blade rose—time slowed.

  Death neared; Mo Yu saw through life and illusion.

  Footprints across the world—this life worthwhile.

  Boom!

  As the blade fell...

  Mo Yu's soul shattered its shackles in unprecedented impact.

  Then—Mo Yu vanished.

  The overseer leaped from his chair.

  A living man—gone?

  How?

  News spread; the capital erupted.

  The emperor, hearing, reeled—Mo Yu an immortal?

  The disappearance quickly suppressed.

  Capital resumed normalcy, but the loyal disciple preserved and disseminated Mo Yu's compiled teachings.

  Half a year later...

  Rebels besieged the capital.

  The emperor collapsed on his throne—front-line "victories" fabricated by his overseers...

  Great prosperity...

  Dizziness overwhelmed him.

  Mo Yu's reading—doomed him as ruined ruler!

  ...

  The vanished Mo Yu...

  Appeared before a thatched hut.

  An old man lived reclusively, carefree as drifting clouds.

  Mo Yu stunned, bewildered by sudden relocation.

  Immortals real?

  Tonggu Daoist smiled. "Your soul broke into the second layer. Time to remember..."

  Resumed watering vegetables.

  Words triggered floods of sealed memories surging like breached dams.

  Five Phoenixes—everything.

  Mo Tianyu murmured: "I am Mo Tianyu, Five Phoenixes cultivator..."

  "Hey, back?"

  Tonggu Daoist chuckled.

  Tapped his brow.

  Hum...

  Vast spiritual energy flooded in—his dissipated cultivation, sealed by Tonggu.

  Memories restored; favor granted.

  Cultivation surged: mortal to cultivator, Human Immortal, True Immortal, Mysterious Immortal... Golden Immortal.

  Swiftly reclaiming past peak: nine-turn Golden Immortal.

  Boom!

  Second-layer soul—single thought shattered prior limits, entering Daluo Immortal.

  "Soul metamorphosis is rare. Previously, you peaked at first-layer pinnacle—second nearly impossible. But your resolve—dissolving body, sealing memories, reincarnating to force breakthrough—admirable."

  Tonggu Daoist smiled.

  Mo Tianyu's soul wasn't entry-level second layer; combined with prior foundation, solid mid-tier.

  Breaking to Daluo brought crystalline clarity.

  He sensed endless potential ahead.

  "So immortals exist... and I am one."

  Mo Tianyu shook his head, laughing.

  Reviewing his life—inescapable poison divination.

  Etched into his soul.

  "No immortals on Azure naturally. Your theories weren't all nonsense..."

  Tonggu Daoist grinned.

  "At least, Azure is indeed round."

  Mo Tianyu smiled freely.

  Bade farewell, drifting from Azure.

  Hovering in Five Phoenixes starry sky, gazing at the blue planet—myriad emotions.

  Now Daluo Immortal—could his divinations truly defy heaven, alter fate?

  Sweeping past, five beast ancestor spaces still hung, countless experts challenging inheritances.

  Failures ejected relentlessly, yet undeterred.

  Mo Tianyu felt deep satisfaction.

  Returned to the continent.

  Tianji Peak.

  Lü Mudui gaped at his return.

  "A century—to Daluo Immortal?"

  "You actually did it?"

  Incredulous—Mo Tianyu's ceiling seemed Daluo, now achieved.

  Most striking: vastly elevated soul layer.

  "You found that world?"

  "The prodigies' origin?"

  Eyes gleaming.

  "Found it—but likely no one else can go..."

  "I dissolved cultivation, sealed memories, reincarnated. All-in gamble. Fail to breakthrough by life's end—I'd be truly mortal, nothing left."

  A desperate wager.

  Lü Mudui sobered—Mo Tianyu's path unreplicable.

  Little more said.

  Mo Tianyu prepared atop Tianji Peak.

  Five Phoenixes had reincarnation now.

  He'd attempt summoning that soul—even reincarnation anew.

  Daluo aura soared, shaking heavens.

  Brilliant radiance... then silence.

  Failure.

  Unsurprised.

  Daluo insufficient—grow stronger, endlessly.

  ...

  Lake island.

  Lu opened his eyes slowly.

  Glanced toward Tianji Peak—Mo Tianyu's Daluo breakthrough unexpected; limits seemed set.

  "Soul metamorphosis?"

  "Azure's aura—he visited."

  Lu admired his resolve.

  Summoning Kong Xiu's soul—difficult. Fallen before Six Paths formed; misfortune of timing.

  "This is Mo Tianyu's obsession—he witnessed it all."

  "Wonder if it'll drive him higher—Quasi-Saint, even Saint..."

  "Sainthood might succeed."

  Leaning in Thousand-Bladed Chair, Lu exhaled.

  Five elements fusion—slow progress, unhurried.

  Five Phoenixes origin strengthening—time needed.

  Deep breath; reopened White Jade Palace.

  Elemental Gods rested enough—back to work.

  Palace emergence could nurture more second-layer souls.

  Done, Lu prepared seclusion.

  But...

  Eyes closing...

  Mind sharpened; snapped open.

  Gaze pierced skies, through Primordial Immortal Domain, Nine Heavens—beyond.

  There...

  Purple qi surged.

  Saints, shrouded in purple mist, returned from starry depths.