In the bustling city, there was never a shortage of note-style novels about immortals and ghosts circulating among the people. Some told of sensual encounters between humans and spirits at night, others of thrilling tales of immortals dueling with magic. All were written with wild imagination, drawing readers into flights of fancy. James Smith had read quite a few, but no matter how fascinating those stories were, they were ultimately just the fantasies of scholars—compared to what he was witnessing now, they paled in comparison by countless times.

A hundred thousand thoughts for a hundred thousand people, and a measure of vital energy forms a thriving city!

“Nine brothers reside at Daoli Mountain, but among the nine, only two are true blood brothers, and they are twins.” George Baker brought up another topic: “One of them is me, the other’s original name is Henry. After our great oath of brotherhood, he became the second youngest and changed his name to Henry Baker...”

Speaking of his brother, George Baker squinted his eyes, his expression cheerful and serene: “That kid is incredibly gifted. Among the nine sworn brothers, he advanced the fastest... He never told me about his path, but since we are twins, we have a natural connection, so I know—the Dao he comprehended is: justice. Now you know who that little fellow in the red robe you met in the Illusory City was, don’t you?”

The black-clad child James Smith saw in the Illusory City was not George Baker, but his twin brother Henry Baker.

George Baker seemed to want to say more, but his face dimmed slightly, and he sighed softly: “In another hour, dawn will break. It’s time to go... Who knows if I’ll ever return.”

Chapter 7: There’s an Old Daoist Here

After instructing James Smith not to move even a little, George Baker took out an ancient, wickless bronze lamp from his sleeve and placed it in front of him. Then he straightened his back and began to inhale... one breath, lasting for half an hour. At first, James Smith didn’t feel anything unusual, but soon he felt the world shake, as if George Baker’s single breath was about to suck the entire world dry!

James Smith didn’t know that when George Baker began his whale-like inhalation, everything in the Illusory City—bricks, tiles, plants, people—visibly withered and decayed, turning back into wisps of true essence, which were then drawn back into their master’s body.

What James Smith also couldn’t see was that after the Illusory City vanished like a bubble, the surrounding desert began to change as well. The sand, though fine, was still tangible matter, but now it gradually weathered and turned to mist, becoming drifting yellow smoke. Each grain of sand was like this, and so was the entire desert. When George Baker finished his long breath, the vast desert had turned into a sky full of yellow mist.

All the vital energy stored within hundreds of miles was seized in a single breath by the man in black robes. If George Baker hadn’t deliberately protected them, James Smith, Six Pence, and Big Black Hawk, who were nearby, would have vanished as well.

From another perspective, if George Baker wanted, just one breath could take Six Pence’s life—what kind of cultivation is that?

After filling his breath, George Baker half-closed his eyes and began to recite a grand incantation in a steady, resonant voice.

James Smith couldn’t understand what he was chanting, but he could see that with every word George Baker uttered, the sound didn’t dissipate. Instead, it condensed into a tangible form—a talisman glowing with blue light, fluttering in the air like a butterfly, lively and agile.

A thousand-character incantation meant a thousand blue talismans flew from George Baker’s mouth, scattering throughout the stone house.

When the chanting ended, George Baker suddenly spread his hands, interlacing his ten fingers into a strange hand seal, pointed at the ancient lamp, and shouted thunderously, “Zhuo!” With his shout, the thousand-character incantation floating in the stone house suddenly converged. Instantly, blue light filled the room, the talismans linked together into an ancient spell, circling the lamp in layers.

The lamp had no wick and could not burn; only the spell produced light. Moments later, a bean-sized glow leapt from the lamp.

A black glow.

The spell spun faster and faster, the lamp’s light growing larger and stronger—like a bean, a fist, a plate, a millstone... until it filled the stone house, enveloping both James Smith and George Baker.

The moment the black lamp light enveloped him, James Smith belatedly realized—this was no ordinary light. The blackness came from: a rift!

What grew from the lamp was a hole that tore through heaven and earth.

The black hole swallowed everything in the stone house.

Despite his shock, James Smith didn’t forget to ask the elder in time, “Where are we going?”

...

It didn’t hurt or itch, just a moment of dizziness. When his vision cleared again, James Smith found himself in another place: the sky was stained with blood, red to a shocking degree. James Smith was certain the sky’s true color was crimson, not caused by clouds, because he could see the sun, moon, and stars.

From this, James Smith roughly understood that he had probably left the Central Lands. Nowhere in the Central Lands would there be a black sun.

The sun, moon, and stars coexisted in the sky, each a heavy, pitch-black celestial body.

But the ground, stretching from his feet to the distance, was a ghastly pale.

A blood-red sky, pitch-black sun and moon, and a deathly white earth.

With a ding, the blue lamp fell beside him.

James Smith steadied himself and asked George Baker at his side, “Senior, where is this?”

Summoning the spirit lamp and escaping through the black rift had consumed a great deal of true essence. Even someone as powerful as George Baker was pale at this moment. He reached out to put away the blue lamp and said, “A realm beyond the world. I don’t know its exact name—let’s just call it the Blue Lamp Realm.”

A world within a world, a heaven beyond the heavens.