Chapter 819: Hero's Twilight

Pfft!

Fresh blood splattered as Ming Wang's forehead was pierced on the spot, and then he was sent flying by Xuan Huang's palm strike. His blood-drenched body traced a crimson arc through the empty sky before plummeting into the raging sea of thunder.

After an unknown amount of time, Ming Wang staggered to his feet, swaying unsteadily and nearly collapsing several times. His hair was disheveled, and his body was covered in blood and exposed bones, a sight that shocked anyone who saw him.

In that moment, everyone fell silent, watching him quietly. The once peerless king now cast a desolate and forlorn shadow.

He had been defeated, utterly and completely.

He had gambled and lost, in a tragic and heroic manner.

For some reason, seeing Ming Wang in this state stirred an inexplicable sense of sorrow in everyone on the battlefield, whether it was Gu San Tong and his allies or Cheng Kun and his group. Ages ago, that figure must have been full of grand ambitions, commanding the rivers and mountains. His black hair should have been as dark as a waterfall, not the silver strands it was now. His face should have been sharp and defined, not wrinkled as it was. His stature should have been upright, not desolate and isolated. His eyes should have been vast like the starry sky, not murky and dim as they had become.

Yet, he remained a king, the world-conquering Ming Wang.

But heroes fade with age, worn down by the passage of time—he had grown old.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The Nine Emperors regrouped, standing in a neat line as they slowly advanced toward him. They were emperors, peerless sovereigns. Once, he had aspired to rule the world, but now they showed no mercy. The laws of the Dao would not tolerate outsiders in the sea of thunder; anyone who appeared there had to be eradicated, no matter who they were.

"Fa Fa Lao, withdraw from the sea of thunder."

After a long silence, Cheng Kun and Yin Zhou below began shouting frantically.

The battle was not yet decided, and they needed Ming Wang and the Yin Ming army. If Ming Wang insisted on fighting the Nine Emperors to the death, their side would lose without a doubt. They did not want to die.

But Ming Wang ignored the calls from Cheng Kun and Yin Zhou.

Thunder raged around him, yet it could not hide the wetness at the corners of his eyes.

He was crying—the peerless Ming Wang was crying. His dim, old eyes were blurred with bloody tears.

"When I conquer the entire world, I will come to marry you."

"I don't want the world; I just want a simple, peaceful life."

On the brink of death, Ming Wang seemed to hear those words echoing in his ears. Through his blurred vision, he saw an ordinary woman standing under a peach blossom tree, tiptoeing to gaze into the distance, waiting for his return. Back then, he was not yet the peerless king, but he had the heart of one. She had no peerless beauty, but her tenderness was like flowing water.

"Fu Er, I lost. Your Zhu Diao lost."

Ming Wang smiled, a smile full of weariness, his voice hoarse and exhausted. Tears of blood streamed down his aged face.

These words weighed heavily on everyone's hearts.

Even their sworn enemies in the allied forces sighed inwardly. After enduring the vicissitudes of time, the peerless king, in his final moments, thought only of that world-shaking beauty.

Or perhaps, his regret stemmed from a promise—to take the world and marry her, making her the most noble empress.

But the seas had turned to mulberry fields, and that promise had become a memory full of wounds. Years of waiting had turned into eternal regrets. Where could that world-shaking beauty be found now? They had missed each other through countless cycles of reincarnation, and in the blink of an eye, tens of thousands of years had passed.

Ah!

Amid infinite sorrow, a roar shook the heavens and earth.

In the sea of thunder, Ming Wang stumbled forward once more, charging at the Da Chu Nine Emperors. The peerless king, even in death, would fall on the path of battle.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

The Tai A Jian sword rang out, the Yan Huang Shen Bei erupted with world-shaking pressure, the Yue Huang Fu Mo Tian San spun rapidly, the Dong Huang Zhong bell tolled endlessly, the Tian Zang Tong Lu radiated brilliant divine light, and the Yuan Hong Jian unleashed a magnificent sword beam.

The sea of thunder raged, but it was overshadowed by the Nine Emperors' attacks.

Boom! Bang! Rumble!

Deafening explosions mixed with thunder, making the heavens and earth tremble.

Ah!

In that moment, too many people sighed. The towering Ming Wang had finally fallen.

No one knew when the roaring ceased, but the sea of thunder had shrunk to less than half its size, and the figures of the Nine Emperors slowly dissipated.

Along with them vanished that unyielding figure. The peerless Ming Wang became part of the past, his body buried by the thunder, along with his scars, regrets, and love.

Bang!

Soon after, the Yin Ming general Guang Long exploded into dust.

Following him, a chain reaction swept the battlefield. Heng Yue's ancestor Yu Ji and Qing Yun's ancestor Yun Qiu burst apart one after another. Then, the Yin Ming generals and ancestors from the three sects turned to ash one by one. Across the entire battlefield, all the Yin Ming forces dissolved into smoke amid the bloody winds.

At this sight, Cheng Kun and the others saw their last hope vanish. The survivors of Zheng Yang Sect, still resisting, collapsed to the ground, their faces pale. With Ming Wang dead and the Yin Ming army destroyed, they were powerless to turn the tide.

Kill!

The allied forces surged like four oceans from all directions, overwhelming the Zheng Yang Sect army in waves.

The battle had reached a point with no uncertainty. Zheng Yang Sect was already at a disadvantage, and now, with Ming Wang's death and the Yin Ming army's destruction, their strength was less than a tenth of the allies'.

In a war without suspense, the outcome was inevitable.

As Cheng Kun and the others were captured one by one, the battle truly came to an end.

Gazing down from the sky, the land for a hundred li around was stained red with blood. Streams of fresh blood flowed, piles of corpses formed mountains, and blood-red lakes and mists blanketed the world.

Yet, the matter was not over.

Now, everyone's eyes turned to the sky, for Ye Chen was still fighting the Da Chu Nine Emperors in the sea of thunder.

At this point, he no longer resembled a human form. Even the terrifying regenerative power of the Huang Gu Sheng Ti could not keep up with the constant appearance of wounds. The holy light enveloping him had grown dim, on the verge of extinction at any moment.

Ming Wang had already fallen—why could Ye Chen persist?

The reason was that Ming Wang was stronger than Ye Chen, so the Da Chu Nine Emperors he faced were naturally more powerful than Ye Chen's.

However, this also proved one thing: in the same realm, Ming Wang was no match for Ye Chen. The fact that Ye Chen had held on this long without dying was the best evidence.

Still, Ye Chen was being beaten so badly he could barely turn over.

Yet, he was calmer than expected—or perhaps silently so, in a way that was unsettling, leaving people unable to guess his thoughts.

"Are you feeling sorrowful inside?"

In his divine sea, Tai Xu Gu Long spoke leisurely.

"Yes."

Ye Chen replied, his voice firm and resolute, with divine light flickering in his determined eyes.

"Who would have thought that the half-dead Huang Gu Sheng Ti would, at this moment, be grieving for the death of his great enemy?"

Tai Xu Gu Long chuckled in a puzzling way.

"My enemy is my enemy, but I do respect him."

"He is a peerless king, deserving of that honor. But is your sorrow really for him? No, it's not. What saddens you is this endless path to the heavens. This road is full of sorrow, and the people on it are pitiable. Even the supreme kings or the emperors who shake history have their stories, but those stories aren't meant to be told—they're to show you that when you're living like a dog, you can still shed two pathetic tears like a human."

"Is this the insight from you, once a supreme being, for the later generations?"

Ye Chen's voice turned flat and indifferent.

"You can think of it that way."

Tai Xu Gu Long lounged lazily in Ye Chen's divine sea. "When you truly reach the peak of this world and gain a long life, you'll realize that so-called invincibility is the same as utter solitude. While bearing the highest glory, the supreme one also carries the loneliness imposed by time. He'll have to watch his family, loved ones, and friends age and die before his eyes, powerless to stop it. When you reach the end of your life, he'll be left without a single familiar face to see him off. Isn't that laughable?"

Ye Chen fell silent, but his heart grew even more sorrowful. The "he" in Tai Xu Gu Long's words was undoubtedly himself.

As a former supreme, he had experienced everything described, and as a junior, Ye Chen felt an unprecedented fear and uncertainty. Even emperors lived in tragedy—was this road endless until death?