In the Knowledge Sea, Silver Sorcerers who had just stepped into the Void Realm were fleeing in mad panic. They too wanted to log out of the Void Realm directly, but simply exiting required remaining motionless for twenty seconds—time enough for the Void creatures to enjoy a hearty feast and pick their teeth afterward.
Never had they imagined that the tranquil Knowledge Sea could one day become so furious, wave upon wave crashing down until their heads spun. Nor had they ever imagined that waters where one might swim for half a day without spotting a single Slash Fish Dragon could become so crowded that they had nowhere to run!
Countless Void creatures crawled up from the ocean depths. Growth-stage creatures, usually rare sights, were everywhere now, and there were even mature-stage creatures spreading their wings and soaring through the sky. What terrified the sorcerers even more was the mournful wailing that pierced ten thousand li of white fog. Merely hearing it caused their souls to shudder uncontrollably and their spirits to scatter—a suppression of godhood far beyond their imagination, belonging to an entity of at least the complete form or higher!
One Silver Sorcerer after another perished in the jaws of the Void creatures, and those who lost their lives in reality were not few. It was not that sorcerers could truly escape death every time, but rather that upon dying, their souls would rapidly return to their physical bodies within seconds. Generally, Void creatures could only manage a few extra bites during those few seconds, allowing the sorcerer to retain at least a sliver of soul to stage a comeback.
Yet this time, every sorcerer was targeted by at least ten Void creatures. The moment one died, ten gaping, bloody maws would ravenously tear into their soul. Even those fortunate enough to survive by a mix of luck and strength were invariably severely crippled, confined to bed and unable to care for themselves!
The situation on the Time Continent was much better—because many sorcerers died before they could even react.
Those sorcerers who believed that the "Destiny Weaver," "Ox of the Sky Carriage," and "Time Walker" were mere rumors and misconceptions, and that the so-called "White Bull" was just a natural phenomenon rather than a living being, witnessed a spectacle that day that was likely unprecedented and perhaps never to be repeated.
They saw the White Bull running.
It galloped across the Time Continent at a speed more than a hundred times faster than its normal gait. Whether one was a favored darling of the heavens, a combat prodigy, or a veteran sorcerer, at this moment all they could do was watch helplessly as time receded from them at a hundredfold speed. The River of Flowing Gold chased behind the White Bull at a speed akin to a bursting dam.
The sorcerers drove their virtual wings and unleashed miracles, but none could possibly catch up to the vanishing time, left only to fall into the Domain of Stillness devoid of all color.
If one could die quietly in the Domain of Stillness where time had stopped, the Silver Sorcerers in the Knowledge Sea would have ground their teeth in sheer envy; after all, dying in the Domain of Stillness caused less soul damage than a single bite from a Slash Fish Dragon.
The trouble was that the Time Continent was a circle, and the White Bull would come back around.
Before they could freeze completely into death, the White Bull completed a full circuit and returned. The tempestuous River of Flowing Gold ravaged the land like a catastrophic flood. Before the sorcerers could even react, they were submerged beneath the golden torrent, washed away and destroyed by time.
For the young, it might not have been so fatal; but for elderly sorcerers, the scouring of the River of Flowing Gold accelerated the aging of their souls. The final remnants of their soul's time became mere spray in this flood of time, leaving them no chance ever to return to reality.
Though the casualties were catastrophic, the impact on society was actually minimal, for in this sudden catastrophe, Sanctuary sorcerers and legendary sorcerers remained entirely unscathed. Ruby Mountain had previously been sealed off from the inside and out, while the new third layer of the Void Realm, the "Dream Stairway," was currently under construction. Any Sanctuary sorcerers who attempted to explore it had been killed by all manner of bizarre accidents, so over time everyone dutifully waited for the Dream Stairway's renovations to be completed.
The five nations issued "Void Realm High-Risk Warnings" almost immediately, barring sorcerers from connecting to the Void Realm. No one knew why the Void Realm had suddenly turned berserk, nor did they understand why it seemed targeted at sorcerers, but they could vaguely sense that they were merely caught in the collateral damage of someone's wrath.
While they struggled under heavy burdens, someone else was surely basking in quiet tranquility.
No one could remain entirely detached: when a speck of dust from an era falls, it becomes a mountain atop the heads of the masses. The strong at the summit always harvest the fruits, while the weak at the base are always left to pay the price.
Yet if the sorcerers who suffered heavy losses or lost their lives could have known the truth, they might have found a shred of solace. For this time, they were not the only ones made to pay the price.
*
Blood Moon Heaven. Upon the altar before the world secret realm "Blood Sea," the Flaying Twins, Scarlet Handmaidens, Night Shadow Priests, and Blessing Angels led tens of millions of subjects in kneeling prayer. The eternal crimson moon had slipped into a total lunar eclipse—one that even the angels of the Blood Moon had never witnessed. Only a brilliant corona radiated around the moon's silhouette. The world was plunged into darkness; only the turbid dark crimson within the Blood Sea continued to flow.
As the Blood Sea began to boil, the seawater shifted from dark crimson to vivid, fresh red. Violent though it was, when he stepped out from the ocean depths, the water tenderly cradled his distinct, bony bare feet and intimately nudged his tall, unclothed body forward.
His skin was pale as snow, his hair black as a waterfall cascading to his waist, yet his physique was as flawlessly sculpted as a work of art carved by a god's own hands. His eyes shone blood-red like brilliant gemstones, and he had a sleek, supple wolf's tail. He possessed the fangs of Gluttony, and the sharp claws of Wrath.
He was the interweaving of blood and moon, the dominator standing atop all mortal races.
When he descended onto the altar, the Blood Moon burst into radiant splendor once more, yet all light belonged to the sole sovereign of this world; each beam of light wove itself into the most noble robe across his body. The boundless Blood Sea surged upward, deferentially transforming into a mantle that added glory to the most benevolent and virtuous monarch.
"Fanxing," the Blood Moon Overlord said calmly. "This time, you win."
*
All-Knowing Heaven. In this world constructed from countless layers of webs, the Bell-Listening Angel, the Last Words Angel, and the Gaze Angel arrived at the center of heaven. Before them lay a cocoon woven from spider silk, seamless and tightly sealed. From within came countless murky whispers; every word was a secret, every sigh a passage of history.
The moment the cocoon split open, innumerable black cloths escaped through the fissures. The entire world turned into an intermingling of black and white. Spider silk and black cloth together wove a colossal web beyond imagination: the black cloths encompassed every secret of the past, while the white silk observed every truth of the present. Combined, they constituted the entire future of this world.
At the center of the cocoon, a leggy, mature woman with long pinkish-purple hair slowly opened her eyes. She reached out, taking the paper umbrella rising from the nexus of black and white. She opened the paper umbrella and held it aloft. Outside the umbrella, black and white chased and mingled, but inside, it reflected that train still hurtling along at breakneck speed.
"Fanxing," Weaver narrowed her eyes. "This was merely my prelude. The true victory or defeat is yet to come."
*
Fantasy Heaven. Atop a World Tree spanning heaven and earth sat a small library. Yet within this library were housed hundreds of millions of books. If anyone were fortunate enough to visit, they would discover that every single book here was a Sorcerer's Handbook.
At the library's center lay another Sorcerer's Handbook. As the wind fluttered its pages, they were blank at first, but lines of text soon appeared:
"He is the most handsome human in this world, possessing hair like the sun and eyes like the moon. He can hear the voices of all things and see the colors of all creation. His bones are firmer than the hardest alloy; his flesh and blood regenerate in the span of a breath. The structure of his body perfectly embodies the beauty of engineering, with every gesture wielding strength under absolute control. His brain is the most complex neural network, where every thought can leverage reality..."
As hundreds of pages filled with text in mere seconds, the figure of an orange-haired youth slowly emerged from the leaves of the book. When he set foot upon the floor, the Sorcerer's Handbook behind him vanished.
He raised a hand, and an instant tempest of knowledge swept through the library. Hundreds of millions of Sorcerer's Handbooks converged toward his hand, condensing into a pair of glasses, which he gently put on.
"This time," the Lord of Joy sighed softly, "I have lost."
*
Endless Heaven. Inside the world secret realm "Valhalla," a never-ending banquet was still underway. Goblets clashed and laughter rang out in unrestrained revelry. Heroes from ten thousand years ago, warriors from a millennium past—countless powerhouses had gathered across time and space to savor destiny's reward for their valor.
Death had never been the sole ending.
Suddenly, the golden bell inside Valhalla tolled, its resonance echoing between heaven and earth, awakening the boiling blood of the dead and stirring the battle lust of deceased souls. Only when the golden bell tolled did this feast enter its climactic crescendo!
All heroic spirits were granted bodies of flesh and blood and divine weapons. They looked at one another and raised their arms with deep respect. After waiting for so long, they could finally determine who was the most valiant god of war in this great hall!
Flesh and bone ground to pulp, blood flowed like rivers, beacon fires burned out, and drumbeats faded into the distance. When the warrior slew the final hero and rose from the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, he glanced around to find that, besides himself, not a single person remained standing.
He walked past the banquet tables where wine had chilled and food grown cold, across the pale wasteland paved with white bones, across the boiling river of blood, across lush fields of wheat, and across snow-capped peaks, arriving before Valhalla's sole throne.
As he sat down, his hair turned a weathered silvery-white, his skin resembled weathered stone, and his features were carved with the profound marks of time. He clasped his hands. The bell of Valhalla rang once more, celebrating the return of the strongest warrior to his throne!
"Next time," the Lord of the Endless Abyss said in a low voice, "I will not fall again."
Chapter 990