Chapter 19: The Nine Grades and Eighteen Levels of the Divine Path

Ye Chen’s heart trembled. Those towering trees were all symbols of the paths carved out by predecessors—their methods of cultivation, ladders to ascend to greater heights. This testified to an unimaginably vast and ancient history in this realm, immense and weighty.

Yet all brilliance is eventually swept away by wind and rain; what remains now? The illustrious figures of those times, the heroes and prodigies, have likely become mere pages in the grand chronicles of antiquity, their lives condensed to fragments of words, leaving behind sorrow and regret.

Ye Chen scrutinized the trees, noticing subtle differences among them.

“Some trees are lush with branches and leaves, others appear malnourished. The weakest ones seem hardly better off than I am.”

“Perhaps their creators perished midway—who knows if it was bad luck, sheer misfortune, or if Heaven itself struck them down.”

Ye Chen still felt a lingering ache in his body. “If that thunder had not gone off to trouble Ning Taohua halfway through, I might not have survived.”

Even the weakened lightning had nearly destroyed him; Heaven truly offers no mercy.

A strong sense of crisis gnawed at Ye Chen. Things could not go on like this; he had to grow stronger quickly.

“Is it done?” Ning Taohua asked anxiously. “Hurry up—Heaven is hell-bent on exterminating us, not even leaving a sliver of hope. In the past, there was still a chance of survival; now, there’s none. If you don’t move quickly, we’ll be buried here together.”

Ye Chen felt a jolt of alarm—he had to steady himself, not panic. If he died here, how could he accept it?

The white lotus pierced through space and landed beside a tree. Damn it, that tree was much taller than the lotus, devouring most of the chaotic energy circulating around, leaving the lotus only a meager scrap.

Still, some nourishment was better than none. Perhaps the chaotic energy was especially rich; as soon as the white lotus took root, it grew stronger.

Ye Chen barely had time to observe the white lotus when a deafening roar exploded. Trees were uprooted one after another; the forest collapsed in an instant. Thunder swept through, carrying the power to annihilate Heaven and Earth, spewing waves of frenzied heat. Such divine wrath—could any mortal withstand it?

“All right, all right, I’m ready! Let’s run!” Ye Chen moved swiftly—not to flee, but to leap onto Ning Taohua’s shoulder, becoming her pendant.

Ning Taohua reacted instantly, her body radiating a dazzling divine brilliance. Petals rained upward against the tide, colliding headlong with the boundless sea of lightning, then breaking through to carve a path as she sped away.

By the time Ye Chen regained his senses, they had already left the sea of rules and returned to the realm of illusion.

The experience felt dreamlike, unreal, yet Ye Chen knew everything he had witnessed had truly happened.

Thinking back, he shivered with lingering fear. Had Ning Taohua reacted a moment slower, both of them would have met their end.

Ye Chen was deeply intrigued by these changes. He was about to ask a question when he suddenly saw Ning Taohua’s blood-stained garments. She collapsed to the ground, transforming once more into a peach tree. Its leaves withered, peach blossoms fell like rain, and the branches shriveled. She appeared gravely wounded; who knew when she would recover?

Ye Chen stared at the peach tree, examined it closely, and finally sighed.

He had always regarded Ning Taohua warily and with no small measure of dislike, yet despite her calculations, a person cannot truly be devoid of feeling.

Ye Chen was no fool. He knew Ning Taohua had likely acted deliberately, but regardless of intent, actions must be acknowledged.

“My strength is still too low. If I were powerful enough, I could be magnanimous, embrace everything, and need not harbor suspicion. It’s only because I lack power that I feel uneasy.”

As long as Ning Taohua could pose a threat to Ye Chen, he could never feel entirely secure.

“The thunder has vanished.”

Ye Chen glanced above the peach grove; the storm of lightning had dispersed.

“I’ve withdrawn my presence—how is it connected to the thunder above the peach grove? All the thunder went after Ning Taohua; perhaps it won’t relent until she perishes.”

Ye Chen pondered, uncertain. “Is there something here I don’t understand?”

Vaguely, he suspected Ning Taohua had plotted it all.

“To shield me from disaster is no simple feat. Has Ning Taohua’s fate become entwined with mine? If so, Heaven itself can hardly be blamed for misjudging.”

This thought sent a chill through Ye Chen. Whatever the truth, if his suspicions were correct and Ning Taohua had orchestrated it all, he would not let the matter rest easily.

“For now, I’ll set these concerns aside. I’ve just broken through—I need to fully experience my current state.”

Divine cultivation follows the path of nine grades and eighteen stages. I am now of the ninth grade. Generally, this qualifies one to be a mountain god, earth god, lake god, or night wanderer. The earth god is also known as the tutelary deity, somewhat akin to a totem.

But I am not a tutelary god—my divine authority does not depend on that.

I should be a ninth-grade dream god.

Ye Chen mused to himself, “This is thanks to the unique nature of the dream butterfly. By evolving this dream realm, I’ve gained such remarkable authority.”

Under normal circumstances, for a deity to master the power of dreams is no easy task.

Though all deities possess the power to send visions, it does not mean they rule over dreams.

Ye Chen, however, could manipulate consciousness through dreams. Such a disruptive ability was formidable, difficult to guard against.

“To become a dream god is not so easy, but this is essentially the innate power of the dream butterfly, a stroke of luck for me. Otherwise, I would have become an earth god.”

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with being an earth god, but earth gods are tied to a single place, rarely enjoying freedom.

Dream gods, by contrast, wield authority over realms with no boundaries. That grants tremendous advantage.

This is not an age of human flourishing; the world is reviving amid ruin. If I were an earth god, confined to one place, growth would be nearly impossible.

Each has its strengths and weaknesses, and dream gods are not wholly superior. Dreams are inherently illusory and usually cannot affect reality—but for Ye Chen, that is no obstacle.

“With mastery over the path of dreams, if I fully unleash it and transform the virtual realm, its inclusiveness will be immense. By weaving dream into the cycles of yin and yang, the four elements, and the five phases, it can encompass everything, embrace all. Such is a path that gives rise to countless others.”

“Now it’s just a thought, but perhaps someday I’ll truly achieve it.”

With a single thought, Ye Chen saw the mountains and rivers in the virtual realm shift and transform. Spring, summer, autumn, winter—all seasons could be reversed; the cycle of the year obeyed his will, as if the world were clay in his hands, to be molded at whim.