LABMY CH145

Chapter 145 – Main Story Ends

Inside a vast and grand palace, a man lay in deep sleep. His face was flawless, almost perfect. With his eyes closed, his sharp eyebrows and straight nose formed a sculpted profile, and his facial features carried an inherent coldness.

Though he was dressed in a simple white T-shirt and black pants—entirely out of place in the magnificent hall—his exceptional physique was undeniable. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long, straight legs.

Scattered fragments of sunlight filtered through, casting chaotic light spots on him, making him look like a deity luring all beings.

No one knew how long he had been asleep there. The palace was so silent that not even the wind dared to stir.

Suddenly, the man in deep slumber snapped his eyes open. His gaze was deep and dark, like the finest black obsidian. When lying on the stone bed, he had been breathtaking yet lifeless, but the moment he opened his eyes, he became fully vibrant.

Jian Yuanbai pinched the bridge of his nose and sat up. He stretched out his hand, seemingly grabbing at the empty air ahead, yet something materialized in his grasp.

It looked like… a book?

Jian Yuanbai held the book and gave it a vigorous shake. The golden book cover flickered, revealing a pair of swirling eyes, as if drawn in a simplistic, cartoonish style.

The cover glowed again, and a single eye with a question mark inside appeared. “?”

Jian Yuanbai: “Where’s my wife?”

The cover flickered once more, and the question marks multiplied.

Jian Yuanbai sighed as he stared at the book, then casually tossed it aside, making it vanish into thin air.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a while before thinking of another way to find his wife. Since he was a mission traveler, he would follow this lead to search for him.

But before that, he had another matter to settle.

Inside the palace, the tall and handsome man suddenly disappeared, replaced by a golden, semi-transparent, jelly-like blob.

The blob resembled a game or anime-style slime. It wobbled, its entire form rippling like liquid, yet its outer shape remained a round, plump ball.

Duang, duang, duang. The golden blob quivered, then “spat out” seven needles and a floating mass of liquid.

After that, the golden blob transformed back into the strikingly handsome man.

Jian Yuanbai reached out, grasping the seven needles. The purple liquid remained suspended, trapped by an invisible force, swirling within an unseen barrier.

A cold chuckle echoed through the palace. By the time the sound faded, the figure within had already disappeared.

Above the Sealed Spirit Cloud stood twelve palaces. To ordinary humans, the beings residing in these palaces might be considered “immortals.”

Among the twelve palaces, the Supreme Spirit Hall served as the main hall. However, the one who ruled there was not the Jade Emperor of legends.

In Jian Yuanbai’s eyes, the so-called immortals above the Sealed Spirit Cloud were no different from ordinary people—yet each of them held themselves in the highest regard.

Swish, swish, swish!

Sharp sounds of something cutting through the air pierced the Supreme Spirit Hall. Everyone inside turned their heads in shock.

Seven silver needles, moving at near-imperceptible speed, streaked like lightning across the hall.

Among the dozen or so people present, only one reacted by stumbling backward. In the end, his body tipped over, collapsing onto the floor.

“Jian Yuanbai?”

“Jian Yuanbai!”

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

The remaining people in the Supreme Spirit Hall stared in shock at the man standing in the great hall’s entrance—Jian Yuanbai, whom they had not seen in a long time.

Jian Yuanbai strode into the resplendent hall, unconcerned about the chaos he had just caused. With the casual ease of a man strolling through a garden, he advanced toward the one he had just struck down with his silver needles.

“Lian Wei,” he said, his voice cold. “What exactly were you trying to do?”

The seven seemingly small silver needles had completely immobilized Lian Wei. He lay on the ground, unable to move, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at Jian Yuanbai approaching.

Jian Yuanbai raised a hand and flicked his fingers. A moment later, the scene from his own palace replayed before everyone’s eyes—the golden blob spitting out the silver needles and the floating purple liquid.

No sound accompanied the scene, yet the expressions of those present varied greatly.

Lian Wei’s eyes widened in horror, as if he were trying to burn a hole through the image with his stare.

Jian Yuanbai crouched down slightly, his gaze indifferent. “Do you have anything to say?”

“Or should we let everyone here inspect these seven Soul-Scattering Ice Needles to confirm whose energy is still lingering on them?”

“You know, when I use my spiritual energy, I never leave a trace. So whatever aura is on these needles must belong to the last person who handled them.”

A heavy silence filled the hall. No one dared to breathe too loudly.

Suddenly, Lian Wei burst into laughter—wild, unhinged laughter that echoed through the chamber. His body remained motionless on the ground, his expression slowly turning manic.

“Jian Yuanbai, why?” he rasped.

“Why, when everyone else’s spiritual energy has withered, when their strength has faded—you can still effortlessly summon a ball of energy?”

“Why am I the master of the Twelve Palaces, yet you stand above me?”

“Why do you not fear disappearance, living freely like a fool?”

“Why are you the favored child of heaven?!”

“Even your body is immune to blades and poison! Even the Soul-Scattering Ice Needles—capable of completely erasing one’s spirit—couldn’t destroy you!”

Jian Yuanbai nodded slightly. “So you were jealous of me. You wanted to use the Ice Needles to shatter my soul completely, and you even added Netherworld Purple Soul Liquid—all to ensure my spirit would be utterly obliterated, leaving behind only a body brimming with spiritual energy.”

He looked down at Lian Wei and smirked. “You wanted to devour me.”

In that small world, the one who stole Longlong’s fate—that person’s memory had shown him the real culprit: Lian Wei.

The air in the hall grew thick with tension. Some of the onlookers cautiously stepped forward, testing the waters.

“Perhaps the Honored Lord merely had a brief lapse in judgment. Why not let this matter slide?”

The moment one person spoke, others quickly followed.

“Yes, yes, look at you—you’re perfectly fine, aren’t you?”

“Maybe this was just a misunderstanding?”

Everyone present knew that Jian Yuanbai, despite his overwhelming talent and unmatched strength, was known for his straightforward nature. He was a man of deep emotions, loyal to his bonds, and easy to talk to.

Many had taken advantage of his character, benefiting from him in countless ways—whether it was borrowing power or absorbing his spiritual energy orbs.

Most of them also knew his past.

In the Age of the End of Laws, the paths of Daoism and Immortality had collapsed. Immortals and divine beasts had faded into myths, their existence reduced to mere folktales and bedtime stories. As human technology advanced, the belief in gods, demons, and spirits had disappeared.

Yet high above the towering skyscrapers, unseen by mortal eyes, a realm of “immortals” still lingered.

The Sealed Spirit Cloud, layer upon layer, separated the heavens from the earth, concealing the existence of immortals from humanity.

Now, the people standing in the Supreme Spirit Hall—every single one of them—had once been legendary figures from thousands of years ago. Be they celestial beings or ancient beasts, they had all basked in glory.

But no matter how powerful they had once been…

Now, they were merely waiting to die.

Because the spiritual energy in the world had grown increasingly scarce, this place was already the highest realm. There was no higher realm left for them to shatter the void and ascend to. They could only remain here, in this land of dwindling energy, slowly exhausting themselves.

Yet Jian Yuanbai was an anomaly.

He had not been born for long—only twenty-three years so far. Back then, everyone believed he would be their hope.

Because he was a miracle of heaven and earth.

In a world where spiritual energy was already scarce, a mass of pure, overflowing energy had appeared between heaven and earth. It was colorless, formless, drifting freely like clouds in the sky.

Later, this pure mass of energy developed consciousness. Though it had no form, it could transform into anything, as if this energy-starved world had gathered all its remaining power to create him—the undeniable favored child of heaven and earth.

That mass of energy was Jian Yuanbai.

Compared to those present, Jian Yuanbai’s life was as simple as a blank sheet of paper. He was sincere, passionate, and utterly genuine. In other words, to these people, he was easy to deceive.

To them, a mere sphere of energy from Jian Yuanbai was like long-awaited rain after a drought. At first, everyone revered him, but once they realized how easy he was to trick, they grew more and more skilled at deceiving him into giving them spiritual energy.

Now, after their initial shock, they all began to plead with him to spare Liang Wei.

Jian Yuanbai curled his lips into a smile, but his gaze remained icy. He gripped Liang Wei’s chin, forcing his mouth open.

“Jian Yuanbai?!”

“You mustn’t!”

“Stop!”

Jian Yuanbai let out a cold laugh, lifting his eyes to look at the crowd. “Liang Wei—I’m definitely going to kill him.”

Then, without any expression, he placed the purple liquid into Liang Wei’s mouth.

“In less than a moment, your soul will dissipate. Since this world lacks spiritual energy, I might as well use you to replenish it a little—better than nothing.”

After doing all this, Jian Yuanbai stood up, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with cold indifference. “Find yourselves a new leader.”

His ruthless decisiveness left everyone stunned into silence.

Just as Jian Yuanbai was about to leave, he suddenly stopped. “Who was in charge of creating the small world?”

“I-It was me.” A middle-aged man hesitantly raised his hand.

Jian Yuanbai said, “Come with me.”

He led the man out of the Supreme Spirit Hall, leaving the others to exchange uneasy glances—each of them feeling that something about Jian Yuanbai had changed.

—

“You can’t find him?” Jian Yuanbai slammed his hand onto the table and stood up abruptly. “How is that possible?!”

Under his hand, the jade-carved table shattered into pieces. The middle-aged man sitting nearby trembled as he wiped his sweat.

The one responsible for creating the small world, Si Shiyuan, spoke cautiously, “We’ve searched everywhere, over and over. He really isn’t there.”

“Completely fusing one’s soul into an unfinished small world is already an extremely dangerous act. Those who took part in this experimental mission all had no chance of survival. I suppose he must be…”

This was the highest realm, yet it had entered the Age of the End of Dharma. Spiritual energy was depleted, and world barriers prevented them from descending to lower realms to escape. Even so, through great difficulty, they had found a way to barely survive.

Stories created by mortals could be shaped into reality, and with the intervention of spiritual energy, they could form extremely low-level small worlds. By inserting themselves as tools into these worlds, they could receive a sliver of the small world’s heavenly blessings once it stabilized.

But the blessings they received through this method were too meager. Thus, someone began to experiment—fully merging their own soul into a world, becoming the protagonist of that story, the child of destiny. The heavenly blessings granted to the child of destiny were the most abundant, and thus, they could be obtained upon the world’s formation.

However, fusing one’s entire soul into an unfinished small world meant losing all memories while facing countless unknown dangers.

Every previous attempt had ended in death.

With a sharp ring, a sword was drawn. Jian Yuanbai pointed his blade directly at Si Shiyuan, his gaze chilling to the bone. “Shut up.”

He turned and left. Since he couldn’t find any information here, he would have to use the most straightforward method—searching for people one by one in the Twelve Halls.

The Supreme Spirit Hall had seemed to hold only a dozen people that day.

But in truth, atop the Sealed Spirit Step Clouds, within the Twelve Halls, there were tens of thousands. Even in this age of the decline of Dharma, they had not stopped scheming against each other, dividing into factions.

Searching through the Twelve Halls as if walking through an unguarded land—no one, not even the once-revered Lord of the Twelve Halls, Liang Wei, could achieve such a feat.

But Jian Yuanbai could.

One Hall, Two Halls, Seven Halls… until the final Twelfth Hall.

After emerging from the last place, Jian Yuanbai wandered the Sealed Spirit Step Clouds in a daze. The wind blew from all directions, as if sweeping through his unsteady heart.

Nothing. Nowhere.

He couldn’t find his wife. He was nowhere to be found, as if Jian Yuanbai’s memory had faltered, as if Longlong had never been brought out, as if those six worlds had been nothing but illusions. As if he had never existed at all.

Yet Jian Yuanbai was absolutely certain—Longlong had been brought out.

Even the self-deception of thinking that returning to the last small world would allow him to find his wife was impossible.

The clouds churned. But Jian Yuanbai, lost and without direction, drifted like a ghost until he finally stopped and crouched by the roadside.

Behind him, the stone mountain stood desolate and silent, devoid of any trace of life.

The wind passed without a trace. The clouds moved without a sound. His tears fell one by one, vanishing into the clouds without leaving a mark.

The cold, strikingly handsome man now crouched on the clouds, covering his face as he sobbed.

“…Wife… where are you?”

Suddenly, a hand patted his shoulder from behind.

“Don’t cry here.”

“If your tears pass through the Sealed Spirit Step Clouds, the area below is going to have rain.”

No one else could turn tears into rain, but Jian Yuanbai, filled with spiritual energy, was different.

Jian Yuanbai sniffled, replying without lifting his head, “Oh.”

“Then I’ll go back to the hall.”

But the person behind him wasn’t done. “What for? To go back and cry?”

“Idiot.”

Jian Yuanbai irritably lifted his head—only to see an unfamiliar yet somewhat disheveled face.

There was blood on his face, his hair was a bit messy, and his clothes were stained with dust. But his features were stunning—his eyes shone brightly, his skin was pale and luminous, making the bloodstains stand out even more vividly.

It was a face he had never seen before, yet it carried a familiar essence—like shadows of the ones from those worlds: Little Pillow, Tangtang, Little Spoon…

Jian Yuanbai stared at him, unblinking, as if afraid to shatter a dream.

“…Wife?”

Shen Tingyue crouched down, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to Jian Yuanbai’s lips. His face, stained with blood, curved into a smile.

“I love you.”

He leaned closer to Jian Yuanbai’s ear and whispered ever so lightly,

“And thank you, husband…”

His voice was small, his face flushed red, yet his gaze was full of longing and deep reliance.

Thank you for crossing seven worlds, through countless crowds—loving me, unwavering and true.