Chapter 247: What’s So Great About the Mahayana Stage?

The River of Time had many peculiarities—for example, measuring distance in units of time, containing no humans, and even the Brahma Tower, which controlled the Dao of Space, couldn’t teleport into the River of Time.

“Only people who enter the River of Time at the same moment can see each other—like you and Ji Kongkong.”

“People from the past can’t see those from the future, and people from the future can’t see those from the past. This is a restriction the River of Time imposes on outsiders, so of course you couldn’t see me.”

“Only the native beings of the River of Time are exempt from this rule. For example, Ancestor Shun—he can see both the present you and the future you.”

The rules Ji Zhi explained weren’t ones he’d discovered himself—they came from the handwritten notes left behind by Emperor Shun, along with generations of trial-and-error by the Ji clan.

“If future people could meet their past selves, I could just go tell my past self what’ll happen in the future. Do I look like someone who knows the future?”

“Ancestor Shun said he saw your future self, and your future self didn’t meet your present self. That already proves the point.”

“The creatures in the River of Time are seriously something else,” Jiang Li joked, realizing none of these rules seemed to apply to the white fish.

Ji Zhi corrected him: “You’ve got it backward. We’re the unusual ones for stepping into the River of Time.”

“You can think of the River of Time as a reflection of time across all worlds. It exists independently—from every world, from the Nine Provinces, even from the Celestial Realm. In theory, no beings from outside the River of Time should be able to enter, but there are always exceptions—like Ancestor Shun. He left behind his bloodline, which gave rise to us. We are the exceptions. The white fish are the norm.”

“People who’ve always lived in the normal world will naturally be bound by all sorts of rules when stepping into a world that only contains time.”

“There’s another question.”

“Ask away.”

Ji Zhi was quite pleased—answering Jiang Li’s ignorant questions gave him a rare sense of accomplishment.

About time.

Ji Zhi felt like he finally had a chance to surpass Jiang Li intellectually today.

Other than having more wives than Jiang Li, he had never bested him in anything.

In cultivation, he was two major realms behind. His status, nominally equal to Jiang Li as the Zhou Emperor, still paled in comparison—among the people of the Nine Provinces, the Human Sovereign ranked higher than any emperor. Jiang Li also made friends based on personality, not power, and had a vast network. Ji Zhi, as emperor, had to uphold imperial authority and couldn’t just befriend anyone.

The closest Ji Zhi had ever come to surpassing Jiang Li was back when they were classmates.

At the time, they were both students at the Great Zhou Imperial Academy. Ji Zhi could only see two hours into the future.

He planned to check the textbook and discuss the exam questions with classmates after the test.

So, during the exam, he used his double pupils to peek at his future self’s actions—and got the answers.

It was basically an open-book exam, maybe even worse than that.

And he still only came in second place.

Jiang Li had beaten him solidly.

The fact that not even cheating could get him ahead left Ji Zhi extremely frustrated.

When Jiang Li was at the academy, he ranked first every single year. His solid foundation in cultivation theory was built during that time.

Worst of all, one of Ji Zhi’s uncles, who also taught at the academy and was proficient in the Dao of Time, discovered the cheating and told the old Zhou Emperor.

The old emperor flew into a rage. As royalty, Ji Zhi was expected to lead by example and follow the rules, not exploit his talent to cheat. He whipped Ji Zhi’s backside with a water-soaked leather whip and ordered that he not be allowed to use any healing pills.

It was the most he had ever cried in his life.

He spent the whole vacation lying face-down in bed with his butt in the air.

Since then, Ji Zhi had followed the rules obediently, becoming a model royal student—and eventually, a wise ruler.

“Why can I walk freely on the riverbank? Why doesn’t the mist stop me?” Jiang Li asked.

Ji Zhi suddenly deflated.

Aside from Jiang Li being absurdly powerful, what other explanation could there be?

He couldn’t very well say that Jiang Li was secretly a genius of the Dao of Time who had a sudden epiphany in the River.

Even Ji Zhi himself wouldn’t believe that.

When Jiang Li had said he was “running around” on the riverbank, Ji Zhi’s eyelid had twitched nonstop.

In the Nine Provinces, no one understood the River of Time better than the Ji clan. They had tens of thousands of years of heritage, and their ancestor was literally a fish that leapt ashore—they’d weathered all sorts of storms.

But Jiang Li’s situation was so outrageous that they hadn’t just never seen it—they hadn’t even heard of such a thing.

Ji Zhi figured that if Jiang Li hadn’t worried about Ji Kongkong’s safety and turned back, he might’ve run all the way to nine thousand years ago to see how the Stairway to Immortality vanished.

“Honestly, I feel like your Mahayana Stage strength is a bit too much. I don’t know about Celestial Immortals, but I’m sure a Terrestrial Immortal couldn’t brute-force their way through the mist.”

Ji Zhi eyed Jiang Li suspiciously. “We’re brothers—just be straight with me. Did you actually ascend a long time ago? Or is there some realm above Mahayana you’ve been hiding from me so I won’t feel bad?”

“Does this spiritual energy of mine look like someone who’s ascended?”

“Besides, didn’t Immortal Elder Changcun say so? A Mahayana Stage cultivator is already rare even in ten thousand years—being overpowered is expected. Like that Mahayana cultivator thirty or forty thousand years ago, who ascended and instantly became a Celestial Immortal, then went on to break multiple records, achieving several breakthroughs, and became a major figure in the Celestial Realm before the Stairway to Immortality was severed.”

Mahayana cultivators were incredibly rare—the last one dated back thirty to forty thousand years, seen only by Elder Changcun. Go back further, to eighty or ninety thousand years ago, and even Changcun hadn’t been born yet.

“Of course, I’m probably a bit stronger than that senior from thirty or forty thousand years ago. He couldn’t beat a Celestial Immortal—I probably can,” Jiang Li said smugly.

Jiang Li himself wasn’t entirely sure how strong he was. After becoming a Mahayana cultivator, he’d never had a worthy opponent to measure against.

Fusion-Stage cultivators could easily shatter stars. The stronger ones could destroy entire star systems.

Tribulation-Stage cultivators could treat planets like gravel, playing with them at will.

Terrestrial Immortals, at full power, could obliterate entire worlds.

Jiang Li was stronger than a Terrestrial Immortal—he could destroy entire worlds too. That was evident from how he condensed and refined the stars of an entire universe into tombstones.

But Jiang Li knew that still wasn’t his limit—he hadn’t used his full power yet.

Of course, he couldn’t exactly go around destroying worlds just to test his strength.

Otherwise, the Outer World Demons would call him a pro.

“Why is it so hard to find someone who can take a full-power hit from me…” Jiang Li sighed. It had been over two hundred years since he last went all-out.

“Get lost, get lost, don’t be an eyesore here.” Ji Zhi glared at him. As a Soul Formation cultivator, he just couldn’t relate to Jiang Li’s struggles.

Sure, Jiang Li getting stronger meant the Nine Provinces were safer, but Ji Zhi just couldn’t stand that smug attitude.

Show off all you want—but if I were Mahayana… I’d probably brag even harder, Ji Zhi thought guiltily.