Yang Kai chuckled inwardly. Bo Ya had rather peculiar tastes — back in the Demon Domain, she'd been fixated on Li Shiqing, clinging to her nonstop. He hadn't expected that after all these years, she was still hung up on the matter.
"Fine!"
Bo Ya blinked, caught off guard by how readily Yang Kai agreed. She distinctly remembered how wary he used to be of her — back in the Demon Domain, he hadn't even given her the slightest chance to be alone with Li Shiqing.
"What did you say? Say that again." Bo Ya feared she'd misheard and pressed him to confirm.
"I said it's fine," Yang Kai sent back through voice transmission.
This time Bo Ya heard clearly and burst into loud laughter. The dejection and grievance from moments ago vanished completely, and she looked for all the world like a fox that had just stolen a chicken. Had Yang Kai been standing in front of her, she would've slapped him on the shoulder and declared, "I knew I hadn't misjudged you!"
Her wish fulfilled, Bo Ya's mood brightened considerably. She naturally stopped complaining to Yang Kai and fell silent instead — the meaning was obvious: she didn't want to disturb him, so he could focus on finding a way out. If they couldn't even find the path back, they'd truly be trapped to death in this spatial rift.
With her quiet, Yang Kai had no reason to make idle conversation either. He continued shuttling through the void, searching for any possible exit.
But there was no clue to be found. No matter how profound his attainment in the Dao of Space might be, trapped in a place like this, unless one had extraordinary luck, escaping was nothing short of a pipe dream.
At some point, Yang Kai suddenly halted. Spatial laws swirled around his body, and the surrounding currents of void turbulence were subtly drawn aside by some unseen force, brushing past him without touching — giving him the appearance of one who could walk through a forest of blossoms without a single petal clinging to his sleeve.
He hadn't stopped to wait for death. He had simply remembered something.
He couldn't connect with the Star Domain's origin — it couldn't guide him back. But what about the will of the Star Boundary's heaven and earth?
He had inherited the legacy of Emperor Mingyue, and with that came a form of recognition from the heavens and earth of the Star Boundary. While this recognition didn't enhance his strength in any direct way, the benefits it carried were unmistakable. The most notable was a dramatic increase in cultivation efficiency — something Yang Kai had realized the moment he returned to the Star Boundary from the Demon Domain after advancing to High-Order Demon King.
The other benefit was the ability to perceive certain special changes within the Star Boundary. For instance, when the second war between the two realms erupted and ten Demon Saints descended upon the Star Boundary, shattering the barrier between worlds, he had sensed it clearly. This was an ability that belonged only to Emperors — not even Li Wuyi possessed it.
Beyond these, there was yet another intangible benefit: the accumulation of fortune.
Fortune itself was ethereal and elusive — something that couldn't be clearly defined or articulated, yet undeniably real. Some people were blessed with abundant fortune, while others suffered one stroke of bad luck after another. Those rich in fortune could fall off a cliff and survive unscathed, perhaps even stumbling upon a martial arts secret manual left behind by some ancient master. Meanwhile, those whose fortune had run dry might obtain the most exalted cultivation scripture and still suffer Qi Deviation during their practice, meeting a terrible end. There was a saying in the martial world: fortune was part of one's power. At critical junctures, this invisible, inexplicable force could very well mean the difference between peril and safety, turning misfortune into blessing.
Yang Kai's fortune had always been exceptional — without it, he couldn't have grown to his current level in barely over a century. But that was merely his own personal fortune.
After receiving Emperor Mingyue's legacy, however, while within the Star Boundary, this fortune would be amplified.
Come to think of it, back when he'd left the Star God Palace and was on his way to the Four Seasons Land, he'd happened to encounter Murong Xiaoxiao and Xiao Baiyi, which in turn led to the discovery of the Wind Lord's conspiracy. Could that really have been mere coincidence?
There was likely no small measure of fortune at play.
Beyond this, the recognition of the heavens and earth bestowed upon Yang Kai surely had other uses as well — he simply hadn't discovered them yet.
And now, it had become a guiding lantern for him in the darkness.
The Star Boundary and the Demon Domain were both great worlds within the cosmos. The reason he couldn't connect with the Star Domain's origin was that the Star Domain simply wasn't on the same level of existence as the Demon Domain. But if he could draw upon that recognition from the Star Boundary's heaven and earth?
Within this spatial rift in the Demon Domain, he might truly be able to find a way out!
The moment the thought struck, Yang Kai acted. He planted his feet, closed his eyes, and sank his mind inward.
Truthfully, although he knew he carried the recognition of the Star Boundary's heaven and earth — that a celestial will rested upon him — he had never actually been able to perceive it. This kind of thing was no different from that so-called fortune: something nebulous and impossible to define. It wasn't like the Star Domain's origin, which Yang Kai could sense and even see.
Let alone communicate with it and have it guide him homeward.
But in a situation like this, there was no other option. He had to try every last thing — do his utmost and leave the rest to fate. If it truly didn't work, he'd think of something else.
Time flowed on. Yang Kai cast aside the myriad distracting thoughts from his mind, his heart settling into a state as calm and still as an ancient well.
He didn't know how long had passed in that hazy, spiritually lucid state when something like a streak of light flashed across the sea of his consciousness. His composure rippled outward in layer upon layer of concentric waves, pulling him from that peculiar state.
Yang Kai's eyes snapped open. He turned and gazed in one direction.
Over there was nothing but pitch-black darkness — primordial chaos, teeming with spatial turbulence. Nothing could be seen, nothing could be sensed. No one could be certain that this was the way home.
Yet Yang Kai took a step forward and began walking in that direction, for the path he followed resonated with his innermost heart.
In the chaos, there were no landmarks, no sense of time. Yang Kai didn't know how long he walked. During the journey, Bo Ya sought him out for conversation a few times. Though she never directly asked, Yang Kai could sense what was on her mind — she likely wanted to know whether he'd found the way back, yet feared receiving a disappointing answer.