Chapter 1703: Six Paths of Reincarnation (3)

In the Liù Dào Lúnhuí, the pitch-black scorched earth stretched out in boundless solitude.

Yè Chén walked alone, as insignificant as an ant. The dust of time had veiled him, his lonely figure gaunt and desolate.

This journey had lasted for who knows how many years, with time itself growing ancient.

In the distance, a majestic and imposing pass reappeared, stern and cold, its three blood-drenched characters exuding a sense of antiquity: Chùshēng Dào.

Yè Chén leaned on his wooden staff, standing at the base of the pass, motionless for a long time.

In the past, he had skipped the Chùshēng Dào, but today, it was destined to be made up. The road home was filled with hardships, and he had grown accustomed to them.

He had forgotten time, forgotten pain; everything had become numb. As he gazed at the pass, his expression remained utterly still, without a ripple.

After a while, he lowered his eyes and stepped into the pass.

The moment he entered, a torrent of sounds assaulted his ears: barks of dogs like waves crashing on the sea, roosters crowing, cattle lowing, sheep bleating, and wolves howling fiercely.

This was a world of animals, filled with rotting corpses, feces, bones, and an overwhelming stench—filthy and bloody.

An ethereal voice echoed:"The Chùshēng Dào of the Liù Dào Lúnhuí, the tragedy of being an animal for a hundred years."

As the voice faded, Yè Chén's body transformed, turning into a mangy, emaciated dog.

In the Míng Jiè, Bái Zhī and Míng Jué's expressions turned strange.

This was too bizarre, even fresh. Each stage of the Liù Dào Lúnhuí was more outlandish than the last, designed from the start to torment to death.

It was a good thing Chǔ Líng had left a few days earlier and wasn't here.

Otherwise, seeing all the trials Yè Chén had endured along the way, she would have been heartbroken beyond words—pure torment, inhuman suffering.

Dì Huáng remained as calm as ever, simply watching in silence.

Míng Dì, however, stirred, his hand unconsciously reaching into his sleeve, fumbling around as if searching for something.

For some reason, this great emperor's smile seemed off.

Dì Huáng shifted slightly, glancing sideways. Seeing Míng Dì trying to suppress a laugh, his face darkened, as if he knew exactly what Míng Dì was after.

Míng Dì cleared his throat and pulled out a flask of wine, sipping it leisurely.

Originally, what he had intended to grab wasn't wine, but a jade slip.

That jade slip was no ordinary item; it was imprinted with footage of Dì Huáng's past trial in the Chùshēng Dào, where he had also transformed into an animal.

As the emperor of the Míng Jiè, Míng Dì had watched the entire thing from start to finish.

Not only had he watched, but he had also recorded it. Whenever he had a moment, he would pull it out for a look—the scenes were quite entertaining.

Through the endless ages, he had amused himself with those recordings.

Who would have thought that Dì Huáng, who had once stood toe-to-toe with five emperors, had such a glorious history? Only Míng Dì would dare to preserve it so carefully.

Dì Huáng averted his gaze, suppressing the urge to lash out.

If Míng Dì actually dared to pull it out, he wouldn't mind dragging this guy off for a serious talk. What was a great emperor, anyway? He was still itching for a fight.

Míng Jué and Bái Zhī watched the two supreme beings with confusion, wondering what secrets they were hiding. From their expressions, it was clearly something amusing.

The place was peaceful, but in the Chùshēng Dào, it was a scene of chaos.

The cries of animals overlapped one another as they fought over food and territory, with herbivores being oppressed by carnivores.

In one corner, Yè Chén was covered in blood, limping along—he had been bullied too, nearly bitten to death by a wolf.

He tried to speak, but all that came out were barks: woof, woof.

Now, he was no longer the mighty Àogǔ Shèngtǐ that shook the heavens.

Devoid of power and origin, he was just a dog—susceptible to hunger, needing to eat, and driven by primal instincts.

To survive and keep moving, all he could do was kill, hunting for food in his canine form to fill his belly.

A dog's life spanned only about a dozen years—this would be one cycle.

After that, he might turn into a pig, a sheep, a wolf, or something else, surviving in various ways.

A long hundred years, a humble hundred years, repeating endlessly.

As the years drifted by for a century, he gradually forgot he was human, that his name was Yè Chén, an Àogǔ Shèngtǐ.

All he could remember, all he knew, was to fill his belly.

Time passed swiftly, and after a hundred years, it finally came to an end.

The filthy world turned to historical dust, and the animals everywhere dissipated with it. He transformed back into human form.

He had endured it—the tragedy of being an animal for a hundred years—and successfully passed the trial.

Yet, those memories would be etched into his soul forever, reminding him of how lowly he had become in his quest to return home.

Once again, endless darkness enveloped him as Yè Chén set out on his solitary journey.

By now, he had conquered the first four paths of the Liù Dào Lúnhuí.

On the vast scorched earth, he leaned on his wooden staff, trudging forward with difficulty, as if struck by the weight of time, limping along.

At the peak of Míng Jiè Mountain, Dì Huáng and the others continued to watch. For them, it had only been a few days, but for Yè Chén, it was centuries.

"He has passed four paths; just two more, and it will be complete." Míng Jué took a deep breath, his eyes filled with reluctance.

"The real trials are only just beginning." Míng Dì sighed lightly, his profound emperor eyes flickering with deeper meaning.

"Just beginning?" Bái Zhī and Míng Jué exchanged glances, both furrowing their brows.

Even Míng Dì said as much, so one could imagine how terrifying the next two paths would be. Yè Chén was likely to fall there.

What followed was somewhat monotonous; the water screen only showed Yè Chén walking across the scorched earth, with no changes or passes in sight.

The wait was long, lasting a full two days.

In the Míng Jiè, one day equaled a hundred years in the Liù Dào Lúnhuí, so two days meant two hundred years. Yè Chén never stopped, and his form grew even more aged.

"Master, why is the interval so long this time?" Bái Zhī asked, growing anxious as she looked at Dì Huáng.

"Only when he collapses will the Rénjiān Dào truly appear."

"Collapses? Why is that?" Míng Jué asked in confusion.

"The Rénjiān Dào is different from the others." Míng Dì said calmly.

Míng Jué and Bái Zhī grew even more puzzled but didn't press further. They just stared at the water screen, watching that aged back, fearing he might fall.

On the scorched earth, Yè Chén's hair was white, and he was utterly exhausted.

Two hundred years had turned him into something like a walking corpse, mechanically lifting his feet, step by step.

It wasn't until nearly three hundred years had passed that a fierce wind howled in, kicking up sand and dust that swallowed his frail form.

The scene shifted; the dim world gained light for the first time. Mountains and rivers were beautiful, shrouded in mist, like a fairyland.

"What is this place?" Bái Zhī was stunned.

"This is the Rénjiān Dào." Dì Huáng took a deep breath.

"No hints at all, and he just stumbles right in? This path is indeed strange." Míng Jué scratched his head.

"Strange? It's downright terrifying." Míng Dì sighed, not forgetting to glance at Dì Huáng beside him.

Míng Jué and Bái Zhī furrowed their brows even more. For an emperor to call it terrifying, the Rénjiān Dào must be incredibly frightening.

At the same time, they both turned to look at Dì Huáng.

They knew he had conquered the Liù Dào Lúnhuí in the past.

Back then, he had been defeated in the Rénjiān Dào, and that defeat had lasted for endless ages, with his only chance buried in the dust.

Dì Huáng said nothing, his divine eyes flickering with a momentary daze. Stopping at the Rénjiān Dào all those years ago had been a true regret; he knew its terror all too well.

Even as a Dàchéng Shèngtǐ, he had been utterly defeated.