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Gou Wuyue watched as his arch-enemy, shrouded in devilish energy, went mad and departed. His gaze flickered as he contemplated something.

Exhausted, he propped himself up with his sword, but at last, he could not hold on any longer and had to sit down with his legs crossed.

The former splendor of Moonless Sword Deity had long faded.

Gou Wuyue was no longer the graceful figure in flowing blue robes, adorned with a white sash, exuding an otherworldly aura.

He was now wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, his body riddled with wounds that constantly throbbed due to his frequent immersion in the Dead Sea.

All these injuries were inflicted by the Sleeveless Saint Servant!

Ancient swordsmen were fundamentally different from physique cultivators. They had high offense but weak defense, lacking strong regenerative capabilities.

If their offensive moves could not perfectly replace their defense, they would end up with injuries all over their bodies.

In the Dead Sea, where they lost their spiritual source, healing elixirs, and other restorative items, the constitution of ancient swordsmen was no different from ordinary mortals.

Even though the Sleeveless Saint Servant suffered numerous sword wounds at Gou Wuyue’s hand, his injuries would heal on their own after going berserk.

Gou Wuyue, however, was different.

In the wake of every battle that lasted half an hour, the lunatic always seized an opportunity to leave him with wounds.

Over time, he became a broken man, like an old man in the twilight of his years, far removed from the image of the celestial Sword Deity he once was.

“Sigh…”

He was reminded of his old friend who, just like him, was banished into the Spell Forbidden Barrier.

The friend faced more and stronger ghost beasts than Sleeveless Saint Servant but emerged unscathed.

Gou Wuyue could not help but let out a deep sigh.

The stark contrast between their fates was truly lamentable.

Thinking of Bazhun’an, he could not help but recall the battle at the Eighth Palace.

Thinking of the Eighth Palace, he could not help but remember Bazhun’an’s advice.

The “Great Buddha Chop” from that day had not only severed Gou Wuyue’s pride but also shattered the beliefs he had upheld for half his life.

He gazed into the distance.

The Dead Sea, shrouded in perpetual darkness and devoid of ripples, was just like the Eighth Palace, which had rewritten the course of his life, altering his current state of mind.

“Black clouds deceive the heavens, and the great river flows backward.”

“The order of the Dao is constantly changing; those in power are slaves to their ministers.”

“Wings severed, a bird not a subject, the sword sealed, the body not ordinary.”

“Bowing humbly in genuine fear? I say the heavens are too low…”

He closed his eyes and whispered. Gou Wuyue remained deep in thought for a long time, then sighed once more.

The Voice of Nulan in his hand, as if empathizing with its owner’s state of mind, let out a low, mournful cry.

“Ah…”

Reflecting on Bazhun’an’s actions after the Eighth Palace now, as well as his declaration upon returning, served as admonitions to himself, Gou Wuyue had a fresh understanding.

At that time, he believed that Bazhun’an had not learned from his mistakes, still dwelling on past glory.

Now, he saw the same unyielding youth who had never experienced defeat.

Amidst a changing world and the Dao reversed, when the wings of birds were cruelly severed, it was the malevolent work of demons and monsters, and the Holy Emperor sealed the heavens.

He had thought the undefeated youth had fallen.

Yet, he could not have imagined that when the giant bowed, it was not due to fear, but rather because the heavens hung low. If he stood upright, his head would hit the sky.

When he returned from his fall, as he straightened his spine, he remained the same Bazhun’an who had always stood tall at one foot eight!

“And what about me?”

Gou Wuyue questioned himself, shaking his head with a bitter smile.

Though he was reluctant to admit it, in Bazhun’an’s eyes, he had indeed chosen to obey the new rules and let go of his pride under the Holy Emperor’s rule. He had set aside his pride and become a humble servant.

“I thought that by following the rules and living without desires, I could freely pursue the Great Path.”

“But it turns out that as long as I can’t break free from these constraints, even if it seems like I have no desires and act recklessly, I’m still like a golden sparrow in a cage, with limited freedom.”

“Perhaps, you were right…”

The trials of the Dead Sea had long made Gou Wuyue shed his pride and continuously reflect on his past actions.

He wondered why his younger self could perform the “Carefreeness Sword” while he, in his old age, could not draw his sword at all.

The question was, what constituted “true lack of desire” and “true recklessness”?

He chuckled bitterly, with his long, unkempt hair falling around his shoulders, shaking his head and murmuring to himself,” Wen Ting, oh, Wen Ting, you faced setbacks thirty years before me and woke up thirty years earlier!”

Straightening his back and casting a glance at his severed arm, clarity replaced the confusion in Gou Wuyue’s eyes. He had completely given up on the Holy Divine Palace.

He no longer held any hope.

Ancient swordsmen should never have imposed restrictions on themselves.

Submitting to the rule, any “act of recklessness under lack of desire” was merely an excuse.

He had locked himself up and placed his trust in others to cut through the Gods and Buddhas in his heart. How could he ever make a breakthrough like this?

Bazhun’an was the embodiment of true character!

Defying the rules was the most vivid interpretation of “ancient swordsman”!

Even if he was unwilling, Gou Wuyue had to admit he had been outplayed.

Without awakening, he had no hope of catching up to that man’s footsteps.

Sleeveless had said it well…

The madman spent half an hour of his daily moments of lucidity fighting with him and the other half sharing his understanding of the Great Path during their battles. He asked Gou Wuyue to remember it for him.

Naturally, Gou Wuyue would not help Sleeveless Saint Servant remember his insights into Fire-type Upanishad each time he woke up, and then recount all the various experiments he had done the next time he woke up.

But over time…

He heard new and insane ideas.

Gou Wuyue, under the influence of continuous madness, was gradually influenced.

The most memorable thing for him was a sentence that Sleeveless repeated every time they fought.

Each time he could not remember, each time he had to say it, it was as though time was in a constant loop, and he consistently forgot before revisiting the depths of the past

Sleeveless could not remember.

But Gou Wuyue, through these repeated instances, remembered.