Thirty Thousand Years of Silence and Change

Time flew like an arrow. Thirty thousand years had passed. The world had changed beyond recognition.

Many had long since faded from Xiao Chen's memory—a sorrowful truth, but one that could not be helped. Time washed away all things, leaving no eternal beauty, no immortal grace. Everything could be ground to dust.

Suddenly, he sensed a familiar aura. Dugu Jianmo's presence shocked him to the core.

Sword-light tore through the sky. From a pitch-black abyss, dazzling beams shattered the great barrier of the Curse Realm, piercing heaven and earth.

Yes, it was Dugu Jianmo—proud, fierce, cold, and ruthless. An iron sword swept across the sky, its might overshadowing sun, moon, mountains, and rivers.

Thirty thousand years of life and death, parting and loss—Xiao Chen had experienced countless friends falling one by one. Now, encountering an old comrade stirred a hundred emotions. Vivid faces flashed before his eyes once more.

"Chi!"

Suddenly, a colossal sword-beam slashed toward him—cold, merciless, filled with killing madness!

"Clang!"

Xiao Chen seized the ten-foot-long Heavenly Stele and held it before him. The enormous beam struck, sending sparks flying, before finally dissipating.

But the sword-light did not stop. Dozens, hundreds, thousands of beams converged into a great river, rolling and crashing against him!

"Weng—Ke—Ah—Hou—Mou—Duo—Zao—Dao—"

Xiao Chen roused the Eight Origin Sounds. The heavenly tones shook the ancient past, pierced the distant future, and rolled forward like a great millstone of formlessness, crushing all sword-qi.

Yet the smell of blood grew heavier. Billowing crimson mist surged forth, dyeing the entire sky red. The sun and moon were veiled. Mountains and rivers were swallowed.

"Boom!"

An overwhelming pressure erupted violently. The surrounding peaks collapsed instantly, reduced to ash. The distant great river evaporated in an instant, exposing the dry riverbed.

Hundreds of li were shrouded in blood-mist. A savage, brutal aura filled heaven and earth!

"Dugu Jianmo!" Xiao Chen roared, each word taking form like a great seal, pressing down into the abyss.

Blazing light flared. Baleful red mist surged. A disheveled figure charged up, radiating killing intent.

What eyes were those? Gazing into them was like staring into an abyss, like falling into hell.

At one moment they were empty, dead, ancient; the next, piercingly cold, like an ice cavern; then blood-red, savage, and mad.

Xiao Chen keenly sensed that Dugu Jianmo was not himself—his spirit was crazed and unclear.

"Du—gu—Jian—mo!"

He spoke each word with emphasis, each syllable like a great hammer descending from the sky, smashing toward the tall figure ahead.

His voice shook the heavens and earth like a great bell, trying to awaken Dugu Jianmo.

But Dugu Jianmo's aura only climbed higher, his gaze growing more terrifying, shifting between hollow deadness and icy sharpness.

"Crack!"

The ground around the abyss split. Dozens, hundreds of great crevices spread into the distance.

Even Xiao Chen was startled. This aura was already terrifying, yet it continued to surge wildly. After tens of thousands of years, Dugu Jianmo had grown beyond imagination.

"Clang! Clang!"

Sparks flew from Dugu Jianmo's body. He and the iron sword in his arms merged into one. His towering form seemed to turn into a lump of iron.

His body became a sword—his flesh transformed into iron. It was no illusion; it was real. He had become like an iron man, and an even more powerful aura exploded from within him.

In that instant, all the great mountains on the horizon were pulverized by an invisible, formless sword-qi.

Even Xiao Chen trembled. He used the Heavenly Stele to block the formless sword intent and killing thought.

Only then did a trace of clarity appear in Dugu Jianmo's eyes. He bit his iron-like lip and said with difficulty, "Use the Heavenly Stele… to press me down… into the abyss!"

"What happened to you?" Xiao Chen frowned. He was surprised to find an old friend in such a state.

"This place… is the Pit of Ten Thousand Souls. I have merged… with the boundless willpower… and the souls of gods and demons…"

Dugu Jianmo spoke through clenched teeth, barely holding on to the last thread of his sanity.

Long ago, the Curse Realm had a peerless grand formation that could have blocked even the Otherworld Ancestral Gods. It was ultimately destroyed, but its formation eye remained—under this very abyss. Moreover, this place was once the Pit of Ten Thousand Souls, where countless heroes had been slain. The ocean of killing intent and the incomparably terrifying soul-force were all suppressed below.

Back then, after Dugu Jianmo's entire clan was slaughtered, the combined sword-will of all his ancestors broke through the Otherworld Ancestral God's barriers and entered his body. He went mad seven times in a single day, and finally threw himself into this abyss. For thirty thousand years, he had trained in a mountain of corpses and a sea of bones, enduring unimaginable suffering. He had merged with the boundless willpower of the Pit of Ten Thousand Souls, fusing with the souls of gods and demons.

It was a cruel and horrifying process. He had nearly gone completely mad and destroyed himself. If not for the small Heavenly Stele that had fallen here long ago and was suppressing the Pit of Ten Thousand Souls, he would have perished. Only a powerful Heavenly Stele pressing down on this place allowed him to keep a sliver of consciousness and continue his arduous training.

"Aren't you afraid it will crush you to death?" This was the seventh Heavenly Stele; Xiao Chen could not spare it.

"No harm… a ten-foot stele… cannot seal me…"

Xiao Chen said no more. He used the seventh Heavenly Stele to press down on Dugu Jianmo, and the stele and the man slowly sank into the abyss.

"Wait!" At that moment, Dugu Jianmo's eyes shot out two fierce beams. He hesitated, then asked, "They…"

"Ah Bing… they are all gone. I am sorry, I could not find them."

Hearing this, Dugu Jianmo closed his eyes, then plunged fiercely into the abyss. Xiao Chen knew that their next meeting would be countless millennia away. By then, Dugu Jianmo would likely have transformed completely.

"One day, I will come out myself and kill into the Otherworld…" A pained roar echoed from below the abyss.

Xiao Chen closed his eyes, following his instincts. He searched the entire Curse Realm but found no trace of another Heavenly Stele.

Then he tore through the void and arrived in the World of Immortality.

At that moment, his heart stirred. Something at the far end of the Southern Wastes was calling to him.

Eight Aspect Worlds, dreamlike and illusory, rolled through the heavens. Xiao Chen arrived in the Southern Wastes in an instant.

Not here—still further ahead. Before he knew it, he had walked out onto the open sea. Azure waves churned, monstrous waves surged into the sky. Ahead, a massive island, brimming with life like a brilliant green pearl, floated on the ocean.

Dragon Island. Had it not been overseas from the Nine Provinces? Who had moved it back?

Xiao Chen walked on the waves and stepped onto the lush giant island. In the World of Immortality now, new dragons had been born, but not a single one remained on this island.

Suddenly, a wave of life-force pulsed outward—extremely powerful.

It came from the direction of the original Dragon Sacred Mountain. Had the Divine Tree that touched the sky reawakened? Thousands of auspicious light beams shrouded nearly half the island.

Xiao Chen arrived almost instantly. He saw that the Divine Tree's roots had long rotted away—dust returned to dust in the power of time. But beside it, another towering tree had grown, as majestic as a mountain, its whole body a jade-green. It stood there, thriving.

Light flashed, and the great tree vanished, replaced by a middle-aged man with firm, radiant muscles that shimmered with faint green light.

Xiao Chen felt a vague sense of recognition. He pondered silently.

"We have met before," the green-haired man said.

In a flash, Xiao Chen remembered. Many years ago, when he first entered the World of Immortality and contended for supremacy on Dragon Island, he had encountered an old treant in Treant Valley and witnessed it transforming into a flesh-and-blood body.

Back then, Dragon Island was sealed, and gods were forbidden. The old treant's power defied heaven—he was undoubtedly a formidable figure. Otherwise, how could he have coexisted peacefully with the Corpse Demon Chi You in those days?

Xiao Chen nodded, filled with emotion. So many years had passed; almost everyone of his generation was gone. Yet he could meet someone he had only seen a few times. It was a reminder of how unpredictable life was.

"There is someone else…" Xiao Chen frowned. He sensed a wisp of deathly aura, faint but heart-shaking. It made even him feel danger, which spoke to the being's fearsome power.

"Boom!"

At that moment, wind and thunder roared from the center of Dragon Island. Surging black mist of death rushed over.

Though still hundreds of li away, the momentum was breathtaking. In an instant, a colossal corpse-shadow appeared before them.

It stood ten meters tall. Black mist billowed, dimming the forest. The stench of decay spread.

The gigantic corpse-shadow walked forward. Behind it, a pair of rotting wings quivered faintly.

"The world is vast, and the changes are strange…" Xiao Chen could only sigh. All his friends had vanished, but he kept meeting acquaintances he did not know well.

It was the Undying King from the Death Swamp on the original Dragon Island—the one who could trade words with Chi You in the old days and had made King Qin Guang, King Yan Luo, and King Reincarnation tremble with fear. His origin was certainly extraordinary.

Over the long years, he had become a powerful Ancestral Lord, and even Xiao Chen felt danger from him. He was definitely a strong being with a story.

Xiao Chen did not press. Everyone had their own history. The Undying King might have had a world-shaking past, but he had fallen on Dragon Island. Perhaps he, too, wished to start a new life. Otherwise, why would he still keep his rotting corpse-body when he was this strong?

No hostility, no wariness. The three of them sat calmly on a mountain peak, watching the distant sea of clouds and exchanging a few words.

So Dragon Island had been moved back by them. Humans were strange creatures—even the powerful could be nostalgic.

In the end, the two men left only a simple, powerful promise: if Xiao Chen ever needed to strike into the Otherworld, they would answer his call.

After they parted, Xiao Chen walked alone, searching Dragon Island.

He closed his eyes, following his instinct. He felt a strange aura—there was a Heavenly Stele here.

When he opened his eyes again, he had arrived at the snow-capped peak on Dragon Island.

He brushed away the thick snow on the summit and revealed a familiar object—a palm-sized fragment of a Heavenly Stele, plain and ancient.

Long ago, the Heavenly Stele on Dragon Island had flown beyond the heavens and vanished. How had it fallen back?

Xiao Chen did not know. Perhaps it was enough that he could obtain its Heavenly Mark.

He activated his profound art, the ancient method of the Heavenly Stele, channeling divine power. A unique aura spread out.

Light flashed. The Heavenly Mark of this stele entered Xiao Chen's body as smoothly as milk mixing with water, as if it had always been a part of him.

Not long after, Xiao Chen came to the Devil's Plain. The vast plain had changed from its former deathly stillness. Many powerful tribes now lived here. But he only sensed residual stele aura—no stele itself.

That same day, Xiao Chen tore through the void and arrived at the Burial Valley in the Qi Realm. He had searched here once before, but found nothing.

Now, having cultivated the ancient method of the Heavenly Stele, though he had not yet fully understood it, he could use it to sense the stele's presence.

The Burial Valley was now lush with green. The once-barren dead land was covered in thick vegetation.

But if you scraped away the topsoil, you would find countless bones—the remains of gods and demons, which could never truly decay.

He uprooted towering ancient trees with his bare hands, exposing a vast area. Beneath the soil lay the ruins of forty-nine heavenly palaces.

In these ruins, Xiao Chen sensed a trace of the Heavenly Stele's aura.

He reached into the earth and grabbed a handful of rubble, letting it trickle through his fingers. He sighed and frowned.

The stele had been here not long ago, but now it had vanished.

Yes, perhaps a few decades, maybe a century ago, it was still here. Someone had found it and taken it. Using his Truth-Seeking Eyes, he peered through this time and space, catching a glimpse of a blurred past figure searching through the ruins.

"Who was it? How could he understand the Heavenly Stele so well…"

Xiao Chen's heart sank. He had a bad feeling—someone else seemed to be collecting Heavenly Steles just like him.

Using his Heavenly Mark as a guide, he closed his eyes and probed silently again.

That person was definitely an expert who had taken the stele. His traces were hazy and hard to discern.

Eventually, Xiao Chen returned to the Nine Provinces. The moment he set foot on the land, the Heavenly Mark within him shuddered.

His heart stirred. He activated his profound art, offered up the Heavenly Mark, and closed his eyes, following his instinct. He did not know how long he traveled, but he felt himself deep underground, arriving at a mysterious ancient building.

It was an extremely vast space. The ancient architecture had withstood the test of time without showing any signs of decay.

The depths underground were profound and boundless.

Here, Xiao Chen sensed the presence of a Heavenly Stele—and its aura was exactly the same as the one from the Burial Valley!

That one had been taken. Why was it here? Was the powerful figure who took it here? Who could it be?

Xiao Chen advanced step by step. He did not release any divine energy fluctuations, moving like a ghost, silent and invisible.

Soon, he frowned. Ahead lay a huge pit filled with bones. Though not as massive as the Pit of Ten Thousand Souls in the Curse Realm, there were at least hundreds of thousands of corpses piled together—a jarring sight.

He paused briefly, then moved on.

Suddenly, he sensed a faint life-force. In the dark corner ahead, a humanoid creature lay face down on the ground, looking disheveled and pitiful. It was a woman. The left side of her face was smooth as jade, peerlessly beautiful—a stunning beauty with icy skin and jade bones, a rare celestial maiden.

But when she felt someone approach and slowly raised her head, the hair that had covered the other side of her face fell away, revealing a terrifying sight: the right side was a bare white skull, ghastly and chilling, with a dark hollow where the eye should be.

Who could have been so cruel as to torture a woman of such peerless beauty to this state?

Half angel, half demon. Half a face of eternal elegance, half a face like a vengeful wraith. Her sole remaining beautiful eye first gazed vacantly at Xiao Chen, then suddenly flickered with emotion.

"It's… you? Don't come near! Go away!"

The woman suddenly shrieked as if losing control, painfully covering her right face with her hand, burying her features in her tangled hair. She backed away and hid in the dark corner.

"Go away!"

Xiao Chen was stunned. Then he recognized her—this was Zhao Lin'er, the former Empress of the Nine Provinces. He had never imagined she would end up like this.

"Clank, clank…"

Iron chains rattled. Zhao Lin'er's limbs were bound with divine iron chains that cut nearly to the bone, having grown into her flesh. She was imprisoned here, a cruel sight.

"Why this?"

Once, Xiao Chen had wished nothing more than to kill this woman. But now, almost everyone from the Nine Provinces had died. After the great wars with the Otherworld, such petty grudges meant nothing to him.

He was about to shatter the divine iron chains and free her.

"I don't need your pity…" Zhao Lin'er wept and backed away.

The once-haughty Empress of the Nine Provinces had fallen to such a miserable end. Facing her old enemy again, her loss and complex emotions were beyond words.

At that moment, footsteps sounded from ahead. Chains clanked. Another life-force stirred.

Xiao Chen flickered and was there in an instant. He pointed at the iron door blocking the stone cave; it shattered. Inside, another divine iron chain bound a small celestial horse, as white as jade, spotless, and extraordinarily spirited.

Xiao Chen's heart warmed. This was the little celestial horse from Dragon Island—the one that had once saved him from the claws of a tyrant dragon. Though this peerless unicorn had ultimately followed Zhao Lin'er, he still felt a surge of gratitude.

The little celestial horse had not changed in form, but its body was filled with incomparably powerful divine energy. However, it seemed to have been gravely wounded and sealed here.

Xiao Chen shattered the divine iron chain with a gesture, freeing the horse. Then he returned to Zhao Lin'er and broke her chains as well.

"I don't want you to save me…" Zhao Lin'er broke down sobbing.

The little celestial horse tottered over and transmitted a message to Xiao Chen: "This place is a lost underground civilization. The Otherworld people conducted many inhumane experiments here. All the mortals are dead. We two were kept as divine-demon test subjects…"

Xiao Chen understood at once. He rushed deeper underground, with the little celestial horse carrying Zhao Lin'er close behind.

In a grand, magnificent building, Xiao Chen was astonished to find many instruments from a technologically unknown age. And on the central platform lay the very Heavenly Stele from the Burial Valley—apparently being analyzed by the mysterious devices.