Chapter 1061: Time Drags On

Da Chu was peaceful and harmonious.

Across the vast central lands, countless figures stood, mostly elder cultivators bringing their descendants.

They stood before the Ying Ling Tomb, pulling out wine flasks and pouring libations.

Beside the Ying Ling Tomb now stood a colossal statue over ten thousand zhang tall—it was Ye Chen's statue, every stroke and detail carved with masterful precision, bringing him to life in vivid detail.

A hundred years had passed!

So many people looked on with weathered expressions, their eyes blurred as they gazed at Ye Chen's statue.

A hundred years had passed since Ye Chen departed.

Everyone's faces carried a sense of nostalgia, mostly from cultivators who had reincarnated. In a century, they had all restored their former cultivation and prowess, each becoming the ancestor of their own sect.

Yet, even after a hundred years of time slipping away, they could not forget that lean youth from the past. It was he who fought for boundless light on this land, and it was he who embarked on a lonely journey for this realm.

"Mother, is that my uncle?"

Beneath the statue, a seven- or eight-year-old boy looked up at Hao Tian Shi Yu.

"He was a peerless hero." Hao Tian Shi Yu smiled, her beautiful eyes still misty with tears. She had reincarnated but had not reunited with her father, mother, sister Shi Yue, or many from the Hao Tian family. Now, after a century of changes, she was a mother herself and one of the ancestors of the Hao Tian family and Zhu Jian City.

At her side, Chen Rong Yun also gazed with full nostalgia. A hundred years had felt like an instant; he had long shed his former sharpness and become a prominent figure, one of the few powerful alchemists in Da Chu.

Hao Tian Shi Xue and Li Zhang had also arrived, each holding a three- or five-year-old child, quietly regarding Ye Chen's statue.

Yang Ding Tian and his group soared through the sky and landed before the Ying Ling Tomb.

No one spoke; they all quietly looked up at Ye Chen's statue. Huo Teng, Shi Yan, and the others had tears welling in their eyes; Tang Ru Xuan pressed her hands together in prayer; Pang Da Hai and his companions each took out their wine flasks.

People from Yan Huang arrived, as did those from Pan Long Hai Yu. They were joined by representatives from Hei Long Island, Dan Cheng, Bei Hai family, Xuan Tian family, the four great families of Da Chu, the three sects of Nan Chu, Shang Guan family, Xiong family, Si Tu family, Mu Yun family, Ou Yang family, Su family, Zhao family, as well as the descendants of past kings and emperors.

They were all silent, stepping forward one by one to pour wine or light incense.

More people followed, mostly Ye Chen's old friends from the past, as well as those who had reincarnated after falling in battle for Da Chu.

They also brought along young disciples from various sects.

At that moment, these disciples knelt in reverence, though their faces showed confusion.

From the time they could remember, their elders brought them here every year to pay respects. They did not know who Ye Chen was, only that he was a legendary ancestor who had shed his blood for this land and reached the heavens.

A hundred years had passed, with new generations replacing the old.

Da Chu was now a thriving era of countless talents and rising stars, with young prodigies emerging endlessly.

After a hundred years of recovery and peace, this land had truly entered its first prosperous golden age since the great catastrophe. All factions lived in harmony, with no wars in a century, and each faction's name was prefixed with the word "Tian Ting."

A hundred years had passed, and in the mortal realm, new generations had replaced the old.

In a secluded forest, beside Xi Yan's tombstone, two more graves had been added—those of her father and mother—now overgrown with weeds.

In a palace, Liu Ru Yan's grave no longer had the trembling old man to clear away the leaves. Only in the dead of night did faint strains of qin music echo through the world.

Old friend, a hundred years have passed—are you still well?

In the distance, Ye Chen's nine Dao bodies stood quietly, each with a gentle woman by his side.

In a hundred years of freedom, they had all started families, finding their own romantic fates in the mortal world. Every year, they came here to pay respects, lingering before Ye Chen's statue.

A hundred years had passed!

At Tian Xuan Men, Dong Huang Tai Xin quietly gazed into the misty void.

Like her, Fu Ya and the other old quasi-emperors did the same. A hundred years of time had made them even more aged.

A hundred years ago, they had seen Ye Chen off from this very place.

A hundred years later, they still stood here, looking in that direction, unsure if that youth was still alive.

Several decades ago, Ye Chen's three thousand incarnations had turned to mist at the same time. From that moment, their eyes had dimmed. The dissipation of incarnations meant something had happened to the true self, affecting even the clones.

Perhaps the Ye Chen they had placed their hopes in had already died, collapsing from exhaustion in the endless darkness and solitude.

In the space black hole, it was deep and deathly silent.

If one looked closely, in the boundless darkness, there was a faint light, like a speck of dust in the starry sky.

It was Ye Chen—he was not yet dead, still struggling onward with difficulty.

Now, he was utterly aged, with white hair and turbid, dim eyes. The sacred light around him flickered in and out, on the verge of extinguishing at any moment. Every step he took was incredibly heavy.

He had been walking in this space black hole for a hundred years.

For a hundred years, he had been like a blind man, groping through the darkness without direction or end.

A hundred years had not eroded his will. Even with snow-white hair and a hunched back, he pressed on, treading through dangers and persisting in solitude.

At some point, he stopped and sat down wearily.

He took out his storage bag and removed the last three hundred Ling Shi, instantly crushing them to absorb the spiritual energy.

A hundred years ago, his storage bag had over ninety million Ling Shi and endless spiritual pills, but in this century, he had used them all up. This dark world offered no spiritual replenishment; once consumed, it was gone forever.

Now, even the last three hundred Ling Shi were depleted.

He was burning his sacred blood to sustain his progress.

The passage of time had ravaged the once-powerful Sheng Ti, leaving it scarred. The backlash from Xian Lun Tian Dao had his foundations teetering on the edge of collapse, as if he had reached the end of his life.

This time, Ye Chen might disappoint you all!

His voice was hoarse and weathered. Sitting there, he lowered his proud head, not even bothering to brush the dust from his shoulders. He was like a statue, ready to fall into eternal sleep here.

Yet again, he rose, like a frail elder, taking heavy steps toward the depths of the darkness.

He was walking step by step toward the end of his life. When his sacred blood burned out, he would fall and merge with the endless darkness, dying alone with no one to see him off.

Time flowed relentlessly, each mark a scar of hardship.

That lonely figure finally collapsed.

He was so exhausted, his dim eyes flickering with fading light, his weathered eyelids trembling, on the verge of closing. Everything around him grew blurred in his vision.

Xian Lun Tian Dao, activate!

In his final moment before shutting his eyes, he mustered his last bit of strength to unleash the forbidden secret technique of the Xian Lun Eye.

Yet, the heavens showed mercy, and a black vortex appeared, bringing the first ray of light in a hundred years of darkness and solitude.