On the horizon, the night mist ruptured, and yellow sand blanketed the sky. It sounded as though thousands of troops and horses were galloping forth, treading across the vast sky.
The sound grew clearer and more distinct, utterly real—by no means an illusion.
"Enemy attack!" Even the young disciples present heard the shouts of men and the roars and neighs of beasts.
Misfortunes never came alone. Right after all the ancestral masters had fallen in battle, unknown, formidable enemies had launched a sudden assault, their terrifying murderous aura sweeping across heaven and earth.
Everyone's expression changed. The desert itself was trembling; yellow sand crashed like surging waves, constantly heaving.
The aura emanating from the distant enemies permeated heaven and earth. Not only were they powerful, but they were also vast in number, their silhouettes already faintly coming into view.
"Where... where did these forces come from?" Some of the youths felt their hearts race with dread; it was their first time experiencing such a massive spectacle.
Along the horizon, birds of prey and flying beasts formed dense swarms that blotted out the sky. Astride them sat beings clad in cold metal armor.
Those exotic birds and ferocious beasts were all higher beings, cloaked in baleful energy as if they had weathered countless battles. Blood-red light coiled around the bodies of many.
At the end of the desert, it truly was a host of thousands upon thousands, if not more. Their objective was clear: swooping in to slaughter everything in the domain of the immortal graves.
At that moment, heaven and earth trembled faintly as sand waves surged. When certain exotic beasts and birds of prey abruptly accelerated, breaking the sound barrier, the night mist blew apart, creating an utterly terrifying scene.
For a moment, like a collapsing mountain or an ocean tsunami, a massive horde of enemies rapidly swept into sight, bringing a suffocating sense of oppression.
Evidently, this was by no means a counterattack by the sun elven race. The elves lacked such murderous aura; the invaders carried an air of blood-forged valiance and raw ferocity.
"What are you standing there gaping for? Prepare for battle!" an elder shouted loudly.
In truth, though the cultivators of every path were steeped in grief over losing their ancestral masters, they were not numb. Sabers and swords had already been drawn from their scabbards, and spiritual artifacts hovered in midair.
A chilling air filled the desert. As the formidable enemies drew near, it felt as though an iron torrent was surging forward, sending shivers down people's spines.
These cavalrymen were fully armored, and so were their mounts—well protected, all glinting with a cold, eerie gleam.
Even their faces were covered with exquisite metal masks.
Now it could be seen clearly that most of the invading enemies were humanoid beings.
However, on the backs of some birds of prey and ferocious beasts, several humanoid riders actually possessed two heads.
Most of the riders were clearly human. Though separated by a great distance, those who had mastered special ocular techniques could discern what race they belonged to, and could even see that most had brown pupils, while some had black, blue, gray, and other colors.
The collective aura exuded by this host was tremendous, overwhelming the soul as it spilled outward.
Almost all the mounts could fly, filling the entire sky in dense, terrifying swathes.
Some mounts flew close to the ground, the wild gales whipped up by their wings churning the yellow sands into the sky.
As they drew closer, they did not charge straight ahead; instead, they gradually slowed down until they finally came to a halt.
Behind them were several warships—colossal vessels hovering in the night sky, upon which powerful figures looked down over the area.
"There are ancestral master–level figures," Grandmaster Ling Canghai said gravely. When his eyes met those of certain figures in the night sky, a wave of palpitations gripped his heart.
Even without projecting a powerful spiritual field, the other party could intimidate a grandmaster like him.
In an instant, everyone on the ground felt an icy chill run through their bodies. No matter how one looked at it, their chances of survival today seemed exceedingly slim.
"From start to finish, this whole matter has been a conspiracy!" an elder sighed.
Before the sun elven diplomatic mission had even entered the Dayu imperial capital, the hunt had already begun. A colossal power had meticulously plotted and prepared all of this.
Everything had been premeditated. The sun elven race had deliberately dangled an irresistible immortal bait—the immortal graves and divine tombs.
After all, even a race like theirs, which revered nature, had embarked upon the path of immortal cultivation because of excavating portions of the great tombs, giving rise to three ancestral master–level powerhouses.
Meanwhile, the ancestral masters of the outer realm, the esoteric sect, and the Newborn path all possessed lofty ambitions; every single one wished to pioneer their path, unwilling to devolve into lesser gods or Feathered Immortals.
Thus, when rumors of a primary tomb concerning the Seventh Realm spread throughout the Dayu imperial capital, the baited hook was cast.
Within the domain of the immortal graves, extraordinary inheritances were indeed buried. Yet the underground was perilous in the extreme—in reality, an Earth Immortal had been sealed beneath, not an ordinary tomb at all.
Lin Yuchen, a grandmaster of the esoteric sect, spoke up. "The sun elven race was merely a vanguard. Behind them lies a powerful civilization pulling the strings!"
This was rather terrifying: the sun elven race was merely an affiliated civilization, an "outpost," with the true main force standing behind them.
A young disciple asked, "Who are they? Why did they fix their eyes on us like vicious wolves, preparing so meticulously just waiting for us to step into the trap?"
Many felt indignation and grief choking their chests. The ancestral masters had all perished tragically here, the Earth Immortal's blood essence seeds that could grow into new avatars had not yet been extinguished, and now such vile foes had descended upon them.
On this day, they had experienced far too much—despair, tragic sorrow, wrath. At this point, they no longer felt fear; there was only bitter resentment and an unyielding desire to fight fiercely to the death to avenge their ancestral masters.
At the same time, many felt sorrow and indignation on behalf of the ancestral masters: they had passed away before even laying eyes on their true foes.
Full of bitterness, a prominent elder said, "Does it still matter who they are? In the night mist world, amid the boundless darkness, who knows how many pairs of crimson eyes are gazing out? All of them are hunters. Once we made a misstep and exposed a grave vulnerability, they came. We are already regarded as prey."
Someone shook his head and said, "Of course it matters who they are. These are no ordinary hunters in the night mist. They should be our old rivals, our former nemeses—we have 'dealt' with them more than once."
Instantly, many felt their hearts shake. These rivals had a significant background?
Someone immediately asked, "What origins do they have? Have they clashed and fought with us in history?"
Someone nodded and said, "Far more than merely clashing. Fierce, bloody battles erupted before. Once a thousand years ago, a second time four hundred and fifty years ago, and today is our third encounter. They have come for vengeance!"
"Ah?" The younger generation was startled.
The elders realized at once, knowing where the adversaries hailed from.
Soon, the adults and youths also realized, having heard elders speak of it in the past; they now guessed who it was.
"The formidable nomadic hunting race of the north!"
A thousand years ago, after the northern nomadic hunting civilization flourished and grew exceptionally powerful, it marched directly south. Their iron hooves trampled the State of Wu, which had not long been unified, plunging the realm into turmoil and staining the mountains and rivers with blood.
Naturally, the ancestral masters of the outer realm, the Newborn path, and the esoteric sect emerged from seclusion one after another, joining forces with the Wu Dynasty to strike back across the front against this exceptionally powerful adversary.
Many ancestral masters died in that battle, but the enemy fared even worse; they were practically crippled, pursued all the way to the bitter cold of the far north.
This Great Reclamation by the immortal path, the esoteric sect, the Newborn path, and the Wu Dynasty had been forced upon them. They had pursued the enemy across countless tens of thousands of li, expanding their territory substantially.
Lu Zizai had once told Qin Ming that most of the reclamations in history had been forced. Sensing looming crises, the ancestral masters had hoped to repel the enemy beyond their borders. All of this had a foundation in fact.
Five hundred years ago, the Wu Dynasty collapsed, while that powerful nomadic civilization gradually regained its vitality. After meticulously preparing for decades, they allied with the two-headed werewolf race and the giant race of the far north, seeking bloody revenge.
Four hundred and fifty years ago, they marched south once more.
However, this time, before they could even reach the heartland, they were discovered and intercepted.
For the outer realm, the Newborn path, and the esoteric sect were at the zenith of their strength. Even though the enemy had enlisted the two-headed werewolf race and the giant race, their ranks were still pierced through and routed into utter collapse.
In that campaign, this nomadic hunting civilization was nearly wiped out entirely, leaving only small bands of experts who fled westward in disarray, vanishing for more than four hundred years thereafter.
Someone sighed, "That nomadic hunting people possesses mobility that is simply too great. Almost every one of them is accompanied by higher exotic birds or flying spiritual beasts. Otherwise, the ancestral masters would have settled the matter once and for all in a single battle—how could they ever have been given a chance to appear a third time?"
"Though that battle four hundred and fifty years ago was another passive reclamation for us, the impact on us was immense," another person lamented.
At that moment, many fell into silence.
After the great reclamation battle heading north, besides the deaths of several ancestral masters, many others were injured. It was precisely at that juncture that vicious enemies also invaded from the west—an exceedingly powerful demonic civilization.
Without stopping to rest, the ancestral masters marched west, ultimately dragging their injured bodies into the most brutal battle against the invading foes.
In that campaign, the oldest ancestral masters were nearly all wiped out in the fight.
"Do you know why the soil of the Plain of Divine Demise is so fertile and dark red? It is not just because godkin creatures bled there, but also because a host of old ancestral masters spilled their hot blood upon that land!"
That westward reclamation could be considered a pyrrhic victory, but in the end they swept through their adversaries and repelled the enemy beyond the borders, preventing the mountains and rivers of their own heartland from being stained with blood.
Fortunately, after that battle, many surviving heaven-sent geniuses achieved greatness, and a portion broke through their bottlenecks to become new ancestral masters.
"What a tragedy!" Thinking of the ancestral masters, everyone present turned red-eyed. This time, before the ancestral masters could even meet the true, vicious enemies who had invaded, they had already been plotted against.
Among them, many ancestral masters had still been young adults four hundred and fifty years ago, having not yet attained the Sixth Realm. Having endured the two great reclamations in the north and west, they had survived successive bloody battles and finally grown to full prominence, only to wither prematurely and pass away forever here today.
Thinking of this, everyone felt a piercing ache in their hearts.
In the night sky, atop the mounts that blotted out the heavens, those figures were murderously fierce, waiting only for an order from an ancestral master–level figure to begin the slaughter.
Farther back, aboard their colossal warships, certain ancestral masters remained motionless, gazing down upon the immortal graves one after another, fixing their eyes on the shattered armor, mangled bones, and bloodstains.
"Where is Present Rulai? No, calculating by the passage of time, it should be Past Rulai now. Now we have returned—are you all still in this world?"
From the sky, the grand, booming voice of an ancestral master of the nomadic hunting civilization finally rang out. It shook the dark clouds in the vault of heaven until they burst apart, causing the blood and qi of many people on the ground to surge violently, their faces turning pale as they nearly collapsed.
"Helian Chengyun, can you still draw your bow? Come out—three arrows to decide victory or defeat!" another old ancestral master of the nomadic civilization roared into the night sky. Astonishingly, this was a humanoid two-headed wolf, its roar shaking the entire desert.
Next, a terrifying giant appeared and bellowed, "Leng Mingkong of the outer realm, who prides himself on having the talent of a Heavenly Immortal, can you still fight? Today I have come to avenge my revered master!"
His voice shook heaven and earth, and his physique was as towering as a mountain.
"The old monster of the esoteric sect who disdained becoming a god, the brat who delusionally dreamed of piercing through Kunling, and the Six Imperials of the previous generation—all of you, get out here before this old man!"
An old man wearing a golden mask, his eyes dark brown, stood aloft in the air. His white hair danced wildly, actually warping the night sky.
The sound of his roar shook the sand waves across the entire desert, sending them crashing high into the sky in an extraordinarily terrifying spectacle. This was a veteran ancestral master–level figure from those former years.
And behind them stood several more terrifying figures, all in the Sixth Realm.
Clearly, when they fled all the way westward four hundred and fifty years ago, they had absorbed and integrated other formidable races and powerhouses along the way.
Xiang Yiwu's eyes were bloodshot, his expression steeped in boundless sorrow. Trembling, he cried, "Ancestral Masters! Your former defeated foes have made a comeback. They are howling to kill us and trample our magnificent lands! Where are your souls? Can you see this?"
"Ancestral Masters!" Many murmured in grief, yearning desperately for the ancestral masters to return and strike across the front against these old nemeses once more.
Someone spoke: "Fear not. Even without the ancestral masters, there is still your generation. From age to age, talents emerge to lead each era for centuries."
"What you say is... Huh?!" Xiang Yiwu was just about to reply when he froze completely. He looked at the broad figure shrouded in white mist standing near him, then looked toward Present Rulai sitting cross-legged before the immortal grave, bleeding from his seven apertures. He felt as though his eyes could not take it all in.
Comparing the figure in the white mist before him to the seated ancestral master, why were their silhouettes so identical?
Xiang Yiwu turned his head back and forth, looking between the two to compare. Then shock washed over him. He could hardly resist the urge to raise his hand and disperse the white mist around the person beside him to see clearly.
At that moment, similar occurrences happened throughout the crowd; many people began to feel something was off.
For just now, someone had repeatedly recounted past events related to the reclamation four hundred and fifty years ago, answering related questions and even pointing out the identities of certain old monsters in the night sky. This was truly bizarre!
"Ances... tral Master?"
In an instant, hot tears welled in some people's eyes. They could hardly believe what they were seeing.
"Past Rulai is gone, so where is Present Rulai? Old monsters of the esoteric sect, Leng Mingkong of the immortal path, Helian Chengyun—can you old scoundrels still fight? Are you still in this world?"
In the night sky, an alien old monster with unkempt golden beard and hair, resembling a male lion, bellowed loudly. His voice shook heaven and earth.
"Still here!" Right at that moment, from before the immortal graves, someone answered him!
Chapter 307