Chapter 1046: Hero's Tomb

Boom!

A thunderous roar echoed through the heavens.

Ye Chen, as insignificant as a grain of sand, had actually shattered the towering demon pillar, causing it to collapse with a deafening crash.

The earth trembled as a dark halo spread endlessly from the northern reaches of Cangyuan. Wherever it passed, hordes of Tianmo vanished in waves—foot soldiers or commanders, any that touched the black light turned instantly to ash, leaving no trace.

No! No no!

In the dim expanse, the air filled with terrified screams as the Tianmo soldiers wailed in despair.

The towering demon pillar was the very foundation of the Tianmo invasion of Da Chu. Its destruction meant the end for all Tianmo in Da Chu, which is why they had guarded it so fiercely from the start.

It was a vast and terrifying scene.

From high above, the Tianmo forces blanketing the land appeared to be wiped away by an invisible hand.

Damn it!

From the void, a cold, authoritative voice seemed to echo.

It belonged to a great emperor from the Tianmo domain, attempting to descend upon Da Chu, but the pillar's destruction prevented it.

Only after some time did the screams on this land fade, leaving not a single Tianmo in Da Chu.

In that moment, the world fell into a deathly silence.

Da Chu lay in ruins, a scene of blood and carnage everywhere—corpses strewn across the fields, rivers of blood flowing.

The tattered Da Chu war banners still fluttered in the wind, stained with the fresh blood of Da Chu cultivators. Each one had once been a living soul, now lying forever on this soil.

In one corner of the land, Ye Chen lay quietly.

He was not dead, his disheveled white hair matted with blood, covering half of his weathered face. He looked incredibly aged and exhausted, as if he could sleep for eternity.

He had won, not disappointing the beings of the myriad realms, and had avenged the ninety million heroic spirits of Da Chu.

A gentle breeze blew by, carrying a whisper like a lover's call, stirring his bloodstained white hair and caressing his battered sacred body, hoping for a more peaceful rest for his weary self.

Break!

At last, the silence was shattered by a sharp command.

Tianxuan Gate had been unsealed, a brilliant beam of light shooting straight into the sky, piercing through the imprisoning cage that shrouded the heavens and tearing a hole in the ethereal vault. The chaotic mists that veiled the sky were dispersed as well.

Immediately, a ray of dazzling sunlight pierced down to the earth—the first sunlight since the Tianmo invasion.

The chaotic mists continued to dissipate, revealing the clear blue sky, with warm sunlight bathing the entire land. The darkened Da Chu, after enduring the Tianmo catastrophe, finally saw light again.

The heavens have shown a sign! The heavens have shown a sign!

As light flooded the world once more, people knelt in droves, praying devoutly for no further disasters.

But they had no idea the immense price paid by the immortals they spoke of for this light to return. Every ray of sunlight had been bought with the blood of countless Da Chu cultivators. No matter how bright it was, it could not erase the glaring red of blood across the land.

Under the sunlight, the sleeping Ye Chen was carried away.

Da Chu remained peaceful.

After some time, sobs began to rise.

Looking into the distance, groups of young cultivators searched through the mountains of corpses and seas of blood for their loved ones.

A few cultivators still survived in Da Chu, but their numbers were negligible, mostly young ones. Their elders had charged into the battles against the Tianmo, and those who lived through the catastrophe were the ones left standing.

With the Tianmo gone, more and more young cultivators arrived on the lands of Bei Chu, wandering the vast expanse in search, their cries of grief unending.

In Nan Chu,

Ye Chen lay quietly on a bed of ice jade, as still as a statue. He had been asleep for nine full days since being brought back.

In these nine days, he slept peacefully, his damaged sacred body gradually healing in his slumber. However, the hidden wounds from his battle with the emperor were etched into his bones and would not vanish overnight.

Standing before the ice jade bed was a slender figure. Upon closer look, it was Tang Ruxuan, Xiong Er's wife.

She was one of the few surviving cultivators of Da Chu. In the entire Hengyue Sect, only she and Ye Chen remained alive. She had found Ye Chen but not her husband.

At her side was a petite figure.

It was Ruoxi, not a cultivator but a survivor. She was blinking her big eyes at Ye Chen on the ice jade bed and occasionally reaching out to gently touch his face.

On the tenth day, the sleeping Ye Chen's little finger twitched slightly.

The next moment, he wearily opened his eyes, his somewhat cloudy gaze carrying a hint of weathered confusion.

"Ye Shidi, you're awake."

Tang Ruxuan, who had been watching by the bed, hurried forward.

"Where is this?"

Ye Chen's voice was hoarse and faint.

"Hengyue Sect."

Tang Ruxuan replied with a tearful smile, her face haggard.

"Hengyue Sect."

Ye Chen murmured, a sharp pain in his heart. He dared not meet Tang Ruxuan's eyes. Her husband had fought alongside him as his brother, yet now lay buried far away.

Suddenly, he got down from the ice jade bed and stepped out of the pavilion.

Hengyue was now in utter ruins, with over ninety percent of its spirit mountains and halls collapsed, everything in disarray. This was nothing like the once fairy-like Hengyue Sect.

Without a word, he walked out of Hengyue Sect, his head of white hair making his figure look desolate and forlorn.

On the vast lands of Nan Chu, he wandered aimlessly, visiting the headquarters of Tianting, Qingyun Sect, and Zhengyang Sect.

Nearly every corner of Nan Chu bore his shadow.

At each place, he would stop for a long time. On the devastated ground, he could vaguely see familiar figures and faces, weaving memories etched deep in his soul.

After traversing Nan Chu, he set foot on the lands of Bei Chu.

In the cultivator world of Da Chu today, one could look far and wide and see scarcely any cultivators.

The vast territory felt emptily silent, like a graveyard.

Just as in Nan Chu, Bei Chu was a wasteland of destruction—no cities, no intact mountains, the once beautiful rivers and mountains ravaged beyond recognition by the hateful war.

He continued his aimless journey, every inch of ground under his feet stained with the blood of Da Chu cultivators. Among the ninety million heroic spirits were his loved ones, disciples, masters, brothers, and ancestors.

His eyes grew blurred.

What kind of world was this? This land should not be like this—it should teem with living beings, filled with laughter and joy.

Yet, the life and joy that should have been there had turned, in his weathered memories, into wounds of scars, passed down through ages, lamented generation after generation.

As he walked, he gathered along the way, like a weary old man or a pitiful scavenger, collecting the remaining blood and bones of the fallen spirits and the weapons they had wielded in life. He wanted to preserve them, for they had fought to their last drop of blood for the survival of this land.

A breeze stirred, and he gently raised his hand, reaching toward the earth.

Buzz!

With a tremor of the ground, a stone monument materialized, towering over ten thousand zhang high, standing tall as if piercing the sky.

He waved his hand, his heart heavy with grief, and carved three characters on the massive monument: Heroes' Tomb.

He did not leave, standing quietly before the monument, gripping a bamboo knife and etching names upon it one by one. They had died for this land and deserved to be remembered by future generations.

Tang Ruxuan arrived as well, tears streaming as she carved Xiong Er's name.

In the quiet night, the surviving young cultivators flocked in, each holding a bamboo knife, each with eyes brimming with tears, carefully inscribing names on the heroes' monument.