Walking Alone Through the Ages

The dragon vanished into the jungle.

Within the wolf clan's territory, several crude cities testified to their primitive way of life.

Xiao Chen drifted through them like a wisp of ethereal smoke, a ghost passing silently through. He was merely a traveler, with no desire to change anything and no power to do so. Before any wolf clan could react, he had already left.

Soon, Xiao Chen crossed the vast lands inhabited by the beastmen. Among them, he saved a vixen and personally visited the kings of other beast tribes, but he found only disappointment.

Only that vixen and the wolf king possessed extraordinary talent. The rest, though remarkable, could never attain the Half-Ancestor realm even given ten million years, let alone the Ancestral God level.

Xiao Chen departed in disappointment. His next stop was the territory of the Celestial Race, an ancient race of legendary talent that had recently re-emerged into the world. He held great hopes for them.

The Celestial Race dwelled in the Central Plains. They were indeed a powerful race, having seized the most fertile lands upon their reappearance.

"I wonder if that ancient Celestial elder survived. If he could see his race flourishing again on this land, would he grieve or rejoice?" Xiao Chen murmured to himself.

The Celestial Race differed little from humans in appearance, save for a third vertical eye on each forehead—the key to their innate divine abilities.

Naturally, these varied from individual to individual, their vertical eyes giving birth to countless strange and wondrous powers as their cultivation advanced.

Xiao Chen walked into the city and observed this thriving race. Hope stirred within him as he sensed their strength—what power would they wield if they fully developed?

In the Celestial capital, he spied an Otherworld Half-Ancestor of the Seventh Heaven. To Xiao Chen as he was now, such a being was nothing. He could erase him with ease if he wished.

But he did not. Killing a Half-Ancestor could change nothing. Had a true Ancestral God of limitless potential been present, he might have felt compelled to act.

That Half-Ancestor was actually teaching the Celestial Race various divine principles, curses, and combat techniques, accelerating their development.

Xiao Chen watched like a spectator. He sensed that this cycle of the Otherworld's emergence might be brief, ending soon.

He could already foresee the Celestial Race's fate.

This time, Xiao Chen did nothing. He merely observed in silence. Over ten years, he traveled through every region of the Celestial lands and selected several hundred outstanding individuals.

If possible, he would have liked to take root among them and quietly teach.

But in the end, he was disappointed. This powerful race indeed far surpassed all others—even the dragon race could not compare.

Yet he perceived a fatal flaw.

The Celestial Race had a very high starting point, but once they reached a certain stage, their advantage faded. Their most brilliant members could swiftly attain Deathless Longevity, but afterward they lacked creativity.

High starting point, immense power, but deficient in innovation—this was a fatal weakness for any race!

Breaking through to the Half-Ancestor realm might not be so difficult, but advancing further afterward became exceedingly hard.

Perhaps heaven was fair: granting them a lofty beginning, but planting a defect later. On the whole, they were not perfect.

In the end, Xiao Chen sealed an imprint in the minds of only a hundred-odd outstanding Celestial beings—a record of cultivation secrets and everything that had happened on this land since ancient times.

If they could break through to the Half-Ancestor realm and above, the seal would open naturally, revealing all the hidden knowledge and past events.

They were not perfect seeds, but he had to sow some.

Then Xiao Chen traveled to another region, entering the domain of a mysterious, nearly perfect race.

The elven race was delicate in form and near-perfect in features, extraordinarily beautiful. They lived in the heart of forests, with tranquil, reclusive hearts, like hermits.

Xiao Chen found them among picturesque mountain forests. He tasted the divine sap flowing from the Tree of Life, quietly observing this race.

Disappointment once again etched itself across his face. Their starting point was as high as the Celestial Race's—they were born mages. Moreover, they had long lifespans, with ample time for cultivation.

But their creativity was even worse than the Celestial Race's.

"The mysterious and powerful races of old have reappeared in the world. I have seen them up close, but none are truly perfect…"

After his disappointment, Xiao Chen calmed. "In this world, everything follows a pattern. Perfection is impossible."

Still, he left seeds of hope, sealing an imprint in the hearts of a hundred elves.

Finally, Xiao Chen visited several more races and arrived at the dragon race's gathering place. They were powerful but few in number—no more than ten thousand.

Xiao Chen felt a special connection to the dragon race. Though they were not the strongest, he left over a thousand spiritual imprints sealed among them.

After doing all this, Xiao Chen sighed.

Once upon a time, he too had lived on this land. But now, two thousand eight hundred years had passed, and everything had changed.

This was no longer his era—or rather, it was no longer humanity's era. The once-dominant races had all re-emerged, but humans alone were missing.

Three thousand years ago, his friends and enemies had walked this land. Three thousand years later, the stars had shifted, a hundred generations had risen and fallen—everything had changed.

Those who had fought beside him had turned to dust. Those who had shared wine and laughter had become bones. Humanity was extinct. In this world, only he remained.

This was a loneliness beyond words. Heaven and earth were vast, but he had no home.

Xiao Chen stood on a high mountain, gazing into the distance. The breeze ruffled his black hair and stirred his heart, which had long been still and unmoved.

Everyone was gone. Even an old enemy—if just one could be resurrected, even one with an irreconcilable blood feud—if he could see a few faces from the past reappear before him, he could laugh away all grudges.

But there was no one. None existed anymore. All had turned to bone. Life could not begin again.

Liu Mu, Chen Fang, Jin Sanyi, Niu Ren—one vivid face after another floated before Xiao Chen's eyes. But now, he was utterly alone.

And Keke... poor little one... Recalling the countless events of the past, Xiao Chen felt his eyes grow blurred. But in the end, no tears fell—only a faint mist drifted from his gaze.

Finally, Xiao Chen walked from the eastern edge of the continent toward the former Yong Province, traveling step by step from west to east, as if making a final farewell to the past.

Beneath his feet lay the earth that had buried the people of yesteryear.

After a thousand years, who was who? Dust returned to dust, earth to earth. Who could say where the souls of a former age had gone?

The grass was so verdant—perhaps its roots drank the flesh of old friends. The deep pool was so dark—perhaps its bottom held the bones of heroes.

Ancestral Dragon Village had long since vanished. Xiao Chen had known this outcome. He was very silent. His parents—were they alive or dead? There was not a single clue. He did not know where the ancient village had gone.

Xiao Chen stood there quietly for three days, then turned and left.

But when he passed the site of the Dead City, he recalled Keke, remembering how she had once carried a basket to burn paper offerings for him. That memory, in his now-stagnant heart, stabbed with sudden pain.

Suppressing his grief, he soared into the sky and departed the Nine Provinces, which had so unsettled his spirit.

Passing through the Four Worlds, Xiao Chen found them unchanged—still lifeless.

With a long sigh, he left the Nine Provinces and the Four Worlds, entering the Death World.

A faint hope still lingered in his heart. Had all the cultivators near the God Village truly been annihilated by the Otherworld Ancestral Gods back then?

Could no one have escaped that catastrophe?

He wanted to search the Death Continent thoroughly. Perhaps there might still be one final surprise.

Xiao Chen entered the Death World. Passing by the God Village, he froze.

He had long since removed that land and buried it in the Nine Provinces. But now it seemed someone had re-dug the earth here, forming a massive burial mound like a mountain.

"Who came to bury this place? Did someone really survive?" Xiao Chen probed with his divine sense but found nothing. Then he strode deeper into the Death Continent.

He passed the city of the young female sovereign, which had long been destroyed. The old Skeleton Emperor and Reverend Jigong were both gone—their fate unknown.

Tianwaitian, Renwairen, Yingxiong—had they passed? According to the prophecy, they were to merge with the Great Might Nether King and be sacrificed in the Death Heavenly Palace... Xiao Chen murmured to himself as he pressed forward. But he no longer encountered the Deathly Mist, which meant he could not find the Death Heavenly Palace or the Great Might Nether King.

"Xutian! I have come to find you!" Xiao Chen shouted into the depths of the Death World, his voice shaking the surroundings. But no one answered. The depths of the Death World were utterly silent.

Further in, dangers multiplied—even Ancestral Gods faced great peril.

"Is the young female sovereign Qingqing? She and the three skeletons entered the Death World's depths and never returned. Are they safe?"

"You came." At that moment, from a vast expanse of white bones deep in the Death World, the shadow of Daoist Xutian emerged. He gazed fixedly at Xiao Chen. "A pity, you lost the formation diagram." After its clash with the stone gate at the end of the ninety-nine stone steps, the divine diagram had split and sunk into the Nine Provinces' earth.

"Xutian, I did not come to ask you to fight your powerful enemy. I want to know—did anyone survive from the God Village back then?"

"I don't know. The Death Continent is vast—how could I know everything? Perhaps some did survive. The Otherworld Ancestral Gods who entered this world encountered resistance from many powerful beings in the depths, suffered losses, and were forced to retreat."

"Did you ever see a young female sovereign and three skeletons entering the depths of the Death Continent?" Xiao Chen asked, for there was too much he needed to know.

"I did see them. But that young woman is no ordinary sovereign—she has long since advanced to the Ancestral God realm." Xiao Chen was startled. "Can you take me to that region?"

"Impossible. The deepest part of the continent is a forbidden zone of death—no one ever returns. You would find many broken ancient demon cities there. If you wish to go, I won't stop you, but I cannot spare the effort to venture there now."

"Then I will go myself."

Xutian shook his head. "I advise you to stop. There are those who would welcome your arrival. You should know that during the final battle two thousand eight hundred years ago, kings of the Death World also struck at the stone steps' end. Some have taken notice of you. They are very interested in the divine diagram."