The Night Mist Sea surged, its crashing waves beating against the firmament. The Golden Board unfurled violently, expanding in all directions, its interwoven patterns crisscrossing the void like paths across boundless fields.
More than that, towering peaks manifested immediately after, while rivers and seas surged and rushed across the expanse.
Framed by swirling golden mist, it was like a sun hanging high in the sky. It was a magnificent spectacle, truly a scroll of splendid mountains and rivers come to life.
Having assumed physical form, the Golden Board whistled away into the distance.
Along the way, wherever it passed, the boundless darkness was driven back. Surging waves of night mist, churning like a vast ocean, rose to the heavens before bursting apart, rapidly dissolving and evaporating.
The Golden Board was voyaging into an alien realm. The foreign war had begun.
In the mere blink of an eye, Sky City behind it had shrunk to the size of a firefly, so faint amid the ocean of black fog that it was scarcely visible.
Such was the astounding speed of the Golden Board!
In the far rear, many people saw it off in silence, watching it recede into the distance. Hearts weighed heavy; none knew whether their fathers and brothers would return alive.
The army standing atop the Golden Board felt nothing but sheer awe.
A grandmaster murmured, "Throughout antiquity, when the gods and immortals of the heavens mounted distant expeditions to apprehend the peerless demons of the mortal world, it must have looked like this, wouldn't it?"
At this moment, as the great army set forth, it genuinely resembled a host of a hundred thousand heavenly soldiers and generals marching out. Banners fluttered, armor gleamed in the immortal mist, vast and mighty.
"You may understand it that way as well," the Golden Board replied.
It was accelerating, growing larger and larger.
"Is this a grotto-heaven?" someone asked.
The mountains and rivers grew ever clearer. Everyone felt as if they were standing in a real world bathed in sunlight, where majestic mountains stretched without end and torrential rivers cut across the earth.
A supreme Earth Immortal spoke: "This is the war state of the Golden Board after its full awakening—mountains and seas manifest, grand formations merge, and dharma chains interlace."
He hailed from Misty Peak; as a high-ranking figure from one of the old mountain strongholds of the heavens, he naturally possessed some understanding of the Golden Board.
"The Mountain and Sea Chart?" Many wore startled expressions. From the name alone, they could tell how vast and terrifying this activated war domain was.
An old monster of the Huang family spoke up: "In truth, times have changed; this is already a weakened version. In the primordial era, when one could fly bodily through the sky at merely the second realm, the 'sea' in the Mountain and Sea Chart did not refer to seas on the ground, but rather meant roaming across the sea of stars."
At several crucial junctures in history, that clan had been overseen by Heavenly Immortals. Their heritage was bottomless, so it was hardly surprising that they knew of that distant past.
Alas, let alone a sea of stars, not even a single star could be seen nowadays. The sun had vanished, the moon had hidden away, and heaven and earth were an endless expanse of pitch-black obscurity.
An unaffiliated cultivator asked, "The moon isn't that far from us. Has no mighty figure ever tried to fly across and take a look?"
"How could there not be? Predecessors have wandered in spirit to search for it, only never to return."
There was even a mighty figure who crossed over in the flesh. Though he ultimately returned alive, he was deeply secretive and never mentioned the matter again. No one knew whether he had ever seen the moon.
The Golden Board shone, and mountains and rivers materialized.
Soon, the positions of the young prodigies, the stalwart grandmasters, and the top old monsters shifted. Some stood atop different mountain peaks, while others halted beside great rivers.
Everyone wore standard-issue armor that covered even their faces. With dense white fog permeating the area, it was difficult to tell who was who, and everyone's positions had been scattered.
"This is the battle formation system. In a grand clash between supreme civilizations, victory does not hinge on individual martial might. When the time comes, everyone must unite their strength, resonate with the dao patterns of this wartime Golden Board, and coordinate to fend off the enemy."
This meant that within the entire Golden Board, all the expeditionary forces were a single collective whole. When one suffered, all suffered; when one flourished, all flourished. Their fates were bound tightly together.
Everyone's expression changed instantly. A bloodbath on such an immense scale would be incomparably brutal—either total victory, or complete annihilation.
When two massive battle formations collided, if one side was breached, the scene was simply unimaginable. It was destined to be utterly bloody and cruel.
The winner took all, while the loser was left with mountains of corpses and seas of blood. That was likely the final picture.
Even a grandmaster turned pale and said, "This is far too absolute! This is gambling everything we have! If we lose, the entire foundation of a supreme civilization will be hollowed out. It's simply too tragic!"
What he spoke was the truth. In a conflict between supreme civilizations, once the bloodshed reached this stage, there was no room left for compromise—only fighting to the death.
A seven-sun stacker said in a heavy voice, "That is why, deep within the night mist world, it is no surprise if the flames of some supreme civilizations are extinguished overnight."
For a time, the atmosphere turned somber. Color drained from some people's faces, and an oppressive weight settled upon their hearts.
This was completely different from what they had imagined. The Golden Board was dragging everyone into a decisive battle, yet there were only two outcomes: total victory or utter annihilation?
"Isn't this a bit... reckless?" Even an Earth Immortal old monster spoke up cautiously.
Clearly, this mode of combat was utterly unlike anything before.
No matter how brilliant an individual was, it was of little use unless one transcended far above the rest.
The Golden Board laid its cards on the table, saying, "An ultra-large-scale bloodbath between supreme civilizations is merely a desperate option of last resort. A full-scale outbreak may not necessarily occur, but the battle formations must be activated, ready at any moment to burn our boats."
Faced with such an invasion by a supreme dao ground, if Yujing did not display its resolve, other crimson eyes might open in the depths of the night mist world and fix their gaze upon this place.
Immediately after, it informed them that even in a localized war, they still had to be prepared to go all out, for bloody clashes could escalate at any moment.
Soon, people learned that the so-called small-scale battles were also exceedingly cruel.
When the time came, the Golden Board would oversee things from the rear and coordinate deployments centrally, dispatching grandmasters, Earth Immortals, and others to corresponding battlefields according to the specific conditions in each area.
People realized that it was truly a precision war machine, overlooking the entire field and capable of making reasonable, effective arrangements without delay.
Under normal circumstances, one-sided tragedies such as an Earth Immortal slaughtering a grandmaster would not occur.
The Golden Board's internal rules would operate on their own. Wherever signs of imbalance appeared, it would deploy corresponding strength there to keep the overall situation under control.
For example, if a seven-sun stacker from the enemy camp suddenly descended, the Golden Board could immediately teleport formidable figures like the Sage or the Dog Sword Immortal over.
If their own camp had enough powerhouses, the Golden Board would certainly no longer cautiously maintain a balance, but would swiftly deploy immortals and grandmasters to create an overwhelming rout.
An old monster reassured his descendants, saying, "So on localized battlefields, if you, as an immortal seed, are unfortunate enough to encounter a grandmaster, there is no need to panic excessively. The Golden Board will promptly dispatch experts to relieve you."
Even so, everyone's hearts were heavy.
They were entering a supreme battlefield, something rarely encountered once in countless great eras, an ordeal not even their fathers or ancestral masters had ever experienced.
"With our elites completely deployed, won't our rear be too empty? What if an enemy acts unpredictably and launches a sneak attack?"
"Deep within the night mist world, crimson eyes might even open and target our base camp."
Some voiced concern, feeling that the Golden Board was being overly aggressive.
"No need to worry. If that moment truly arrives, the New Board will wake the Dao Board at any cost."
"Does the Dao Board really still exist?" a seven-sun stacker asked.
The Golden Board said, "It should not have fully decayed yet."
From mortals to objects, no matter how elevated their realm, even figures as mighty as the Lord of Yujing had been replaced generation after generation, each meeting their day of demise.
"When Yujing vanished, where on earth did it go?" someone couldn't help asking.
Some even secretly questioned: now that even Yujing was gone, had it fled? Why did the Golden Board still adhere strictly and scrupulously to the ancient rules?
"It seeks survival, searching for a way to live," the Golden Board replied concisely, saying no more.
A heavy silence hung over everyone's hearts, as if pressed under a great mountain. Though they had heard rumors long ago, they still felt the road ahead was vague and uncertain, the world's fortunes like heavenly fire pouring across the earth, perilous and unpredictable.
Inside the Golden Board, mountains and seas were vivid. Atop some of the towering mountains, treasured cauldrons glowed, bubbling as they boiled ancestral tree sap essences and simmered spiritual vines.
"The great medicines are ready!"
The rich medicinal aroma pulled everyone's thoughts back.
This was a tangible benefit. Medicine furnaces sat atop each mountain, where immortal mist and five-colored medicinal light rose in wisps, drawing everyone's gaze.
"We are about to cross the boundary, leaving the regions reached by Yujing's influence!" the Golden Board warned.
Ahead, a massive, pitch-black chasm stretched across the nine heavens, as if someone had cleaved the firmament with a giant axe, leaving an eternal wound that could never heal.
This was the most primitive Mist Gate, spanning vast distances to connect with an unknown, far-off mysterious realm—an ancient path charted only after generations of repeated exploration.
It was precisely because of such a path that Yujing could possess an enclave in the distance.
The Golden Board cautioned, "Prepare for battle. We are about to enter a new, distant world and may encounter harsh environments at any time."
Dense fog churned and starlight flickered faintly, while countless drifting clouds of light and otherworldly toxic fire raged within this chasm-like passage. For ordinary people, passing through would be exceedingly difficult.
With a whoosh, the Golden Board carried the marvelous spectacle of mountains and rivers through in a flash, instantly arriving in an entirely new world.
In this alien realm, even the dao rhythm was somewhat different. If they stood outside the Mountain and Sea Chart, many would likely find it quite uncomfortable.
Afterward, the Golden Board intentionally let them feel it, allowing the dao rhythm to surge in. As expected, some people felt that staying here for long would become a heavy burden.
"Heaven and earth are changing. You must gradually adapt."
Above the land, the night mist was thick. However, the expeditionary forces were all elites; many carried rare treasures or had cultivated spirit eyes and the like, allowing them to pierce through the clouds and catch indistinct glimpses of the ground below.
Vast expanses of land were utterly barren, riddled with pits and hollows, mine shafts dotting the mountains and wilderness.
Other regions were the complete opposite: lush with vegetation, primordial forests stretching as far as the eye could see, echoing with the cries of apes and roars of tigers—two complete extremes.
One Earth Immortal used a treasured mirror to capture the sight of a city inhabited by towering barbarians, half a torso taller than normal humans.
Within the city, they worshipped a greenish flame. Many people danced sacrificial dances around it, bowing repeatedly in veneration, giving off an overwhelming air of primeval savagery.
Though they dwelt in a city, they resembled a massive tribe more than anything else.
"In earlier times, most here were humans. After the Barbarian God invaded, many humans and humanoid beings mutated completely, their bodies swelling until they became barbarians."
In the ranks, the Old Barbarian God heard this and immediately widened his copper-bell eyes, feeling as though he had caught a stray arrow out of nowhere.
That was an invasion by evil gods; it had nothing to do with him!
Most of the once-prosperous cities had devolved into tribal settlements. That was the Barbarian God civilization—a primeval cult that worshipped ancient and mighty deities.
The Golden Board said, "More precisely, they are totem gods."
Everyone finally understood why, during their daily formation drills when entering the golden consciousness space, they had faced all manner of bizarrely shaped primeval monsters. Those were the very adversaries they might encounter next.
The Golden Board stated plainly that behind all this, there might be even graver hidden truths or enemies that urgently needed to be investigated.
Suddenly, a bright radiance burst from the night sky ahead, shaking the dense cloud banks, and an immense celestial palace loomed half-hidden.
"Friends have come from afar, yet alas, you carry blades on your backs and harbor malice in your hearts. I fear you do not come with goodwill."
In that region, amid a sea of clouds and mist, heavenly watchtowers, silver palaces, and jade pavilions stretched out in endless succession, extraordinarily grand and ethereal, as if they were approaching an immortal court.
The sights before them hardly resembled the style of the Barbarian Gods; they were far too exquisite.
The mountain lord of Star Mountain spoke up: "This is a realm governed by our Yujing! You evil gods invade it, yet dare to utter such shameless boasts!"
"Brother, calm your anger for a moment. We were merely passing through this domain and temporarily borrowing the land for a brief rest—at most fifty years. When the time comes, we shall surely return it intact."
The palace master of Thunder Marsh Palace said, "Your words are prettier than singing! Do you take us for your believers, to be fooled and cheated? If you are merely passing through, then move elsewhere this instant and return every last piece of rare ore!"
Across from them, a deity exuding a primeval aura stepped forward—tall and burly, with animal skins wrapped around his lower body, a bare torso, and long hair hanging loose. He chuckled heartily. "Fellow Daoist, you are far too petty."
Immediately after, a cat-faced deity stepped out, wearing a sullen expression. "Neither of us has the right to point fingers. Yesterday, you people stole and harvested our clan's secret medicine, so we are even."
On Yujing's side, a seven-sun stacker said, "How can roving bandits squatting in our home call it even? Are you leaving or not?"
A primeval deity in the form of flame declared loudly, "Gentlemen, let us speak reasonably. Everything can be discussed in due course. Look, we have opened the celestial palaces and jade watchtowers and prepared fine wine, waiting here for a long time. Is this not to turn weapons of war into gifts of jade and silk?"
The Golden Board spoke: "You occupy our domain and make vain talk of peace. Are you leaving or not?"
In an instant, mountains and seas surfaced, sending the entire Night Mist Sea into upheaval.
Ahead, that cluster of jade towers and pavilions, along with numerous immortal watchtowers, rocked violently above the clouds as if on the verge of disintegrating.
"Fellow Daoist, calm your wrath."
Right then, far behind the buildings cloaked in spiritual light, the boundless sea of clouds parted, and a vast, ancient, and immensely powerful aura swept forth like an overwhelming tide.
In a split second, it steadied the trembling immortal palace complex.
It was a colossal peak. The moment it surfaced, it seemed poised to crush the firmament.
It was black as ink, towering and ponderous. At its base, there were a total of one hundred and eight terrifying phantoms resembling Heavenly Gods, joining forces to hold up the mountain.
"Could they truly be... remnant shadows of Heavenly Gods?" On the Golden Board's side, many people felt their hearts quake, sensing that the dao rhythm of those phantoms was dreadfully unfathomable.
An Earth Immortal of the Huang family revealed the truth: "In this era, where could there be any Heavenly Gods? They have all been dead for many years. Perhaps they existed in history, accumulated over the course of endless ages, but by now they are mere empty shells, showing off their past glory and nothing more."
Everyone nodded; only this accorded with common sense.
The Golden Board shook, and dao patterns instantly spread outward, suppressing the aura of those one hundred and eight phantoms so that they no longer appeared so bottomless.
The Golden Board spoke: "Since you have come, do you intend to wage a decisive war between supreme civilizations with me?"
Undoubtedly, that pitch-black mountain was a massive war instrument of the totem god camp, equal in stature to Yujing's Golden Board.
"I have come only to halt the fighting and keep Brother Dao from acting too rashly," the immense mountain spoke.
Upon its pitch-black slopes were engraved numerous motifs—all primeval totems that made it look unfathomably deep, as though gods were holding it aloft.
It had endured through many great eras, worshipped by all clans and serving as the resting place for numerous totems.
"Are you threatening me?" the Golden Board said in a deep voice.
The Totem Sacred Mountain spoke: "No, I am merely preparing for the worst. If Brother Dao insists on a fight to the death, I shall accompany you to the bitter end."
Then it added, "I would ask Brother Dao to think twice and assess the matter carefully. After all, if war erupts between our two supreme civilizations, the consequences will be somewhat unbearable for both of us."
The Golden Board said, "Bandit logic. You occupy our territory, and yet you say such things to me?"
The pitch-black mountain said, "I am willing to make compensation in other areas. Everything is negotiable."
The Golden Board said, "Get out of this domain first before there is anything to discuss!"
The Totem Sacred Mountain said, "It seems this battle cannot be avoided. Even so, I still ask you to deliberate. Before that, how about we test the waters first? Let both sides gain an understanding of each other, to see whether we truly need to unleash a bloodbath of the highest order."
Testing the waters naturally meant initial small-scale engagement and probing—gauging each other's foundations, learning about one another, and ideally intimidating one side into backing down.
"Agreed!" the Golden Board consented.
The Totem Sacred Mountain said, "The best outcome would be that after our sparring, both sides gain mutual respect, and finally drink wine and enjoy song and dance before the celestial palaces and immortal watchtowers, letting bygones be bygones."
In front of those immortal palaces, a profusion of divine patterns interlaced, revealing an immense open ground that would serve as the battlefield.
Evidently, the so-called mutual respect was merely an excuse and a face-saving retreat should one side find its strength lacking and shrink from battle.
Though billed as sparring and testing the waters on a small scale, the other side directly involved deities; powerhouses of the seventh realm stepped forward.
The Totem Sacred Mountain said, "Even if it is a small-scale exchange, the participants should not be too few. People from every age bracket should take part. Only then can we understand each other's true strength and prevent miscalculations."
Its voice was not loud, and it had remained polite throughout, but it was actually exceedingly aggressive and brimming with confidence.
"As you wish!" the Golden Board agreed. It began calling names. Experts of the seventh realm stepped forward, among whom were the Sage, the Dog Sword Immortal, and various mountain lords, palace masters, and cave lords from the old mountain strongholds of the heavens.
However, they all wore the same standard-issue armor that concealed even their faces, making it impossible to tell who was who.
Suddenly, a stir went through the crowd. From the ranks of the young and vigorous in the totem camp, a terrifying colossal beast stepped out, its entire body bathed in golden light.
"This is... a mutated super golden colossal beast!" Several people gasped, especially the experts of Night Province; having lived through the colossal beast disaster, they were most sensitive to such colossal entities, and their hearts sank.
More than that, behind it was a five-colored colossal beast, covered in divine patterns that flowed with rich dao rhythm.
Even many of the older-generation experts changed color. These were mutated colossal beasts that had undergone totemization since youth; they could virtually be called innate sacred beasts.
"Mere four-legged beasts. What need is there to mind them? Taiyi, step forward and prepare!" After naming the seventh-realm experts, the first name the Golden Board called upon its second round was "Taiyi."
For a moment, a brief silence fell over the Mountain and Sea Chart. All sides were all too familiar with that name—the former first rank on the board, mysterious and unfathomable. He was here as well, and had been singled out by the Golden Board.
Chapter 535