Shi Hao desperately wanted to ask the old man why he was shouting like that. It was completely inconsistent with the information he had gathered—in fact, it was the polar opposite.
The city was vast, constructed from massive black stones that gleamed with a cold, metallic sheen, exuding an oppressive aura.
Yet, within its walls, it was bustling with activity—crowds of people, streams of carriages, and an overwhelming sense of prosperity.
Once the topic was raised, many grew agitated and indignant. According to them, they were the true masters of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, now displaced from their homeland, driven out by devils.
Shi Hao observed carefully. These people were indeed indistinguishable from ordinary humans, not some alien race.
If they were of the same kind, why did they call those beyond the borderlands devils?
In truth, it was the people of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths who had the right to call *them* devils, for once these beings crossed the borderlands, it meant destruction—the burial of an entire era.
Legends spoke of the Immortal Ancient Era, but who knew if there were other epochs before it, all erased, forever lost?
It was like a cycle, a predestined fate. Now, in this era, everything would be obliterated once more.
Thinking of this outcome, Shi Hao felt a surge of anger. Clearly, it was these people who sought to annihilate the Three Thousand Dao Provinces, so why did they still act like victims?
At the very least, from what he knew, the Three Thousand Provinces had always been on the defensive, never invading this world. Their plight was tragic.
Determined to uncover the truth, Shi Hao began covert operations, secretly capturing a few individuals and probing their minds. He found that their words and thoughts aligned.
*”Where exactly is the discrepancy? Which world is lying?”*
Shi Hao firmly believed that the Three Thousand Provinces were the victims, especially now that they faced the specter of death once more.
In the following days, Shi Hao immersed himself among the natives, observing, interacting, and gathering detailed information.
*”Some are strong, but others are weak. Overall, they don’t seem overwhelmingly more powerful than the Three Thousand Provinces. How could they possibly annihilate the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths?”* The question gnawed at him.
To seek answers, he journeyed across countless mountains and rivers, entered numerous great cities, and encountered one formidable race after another.
He had to admit—some races were absurdly strong. But could they truly obliterate the other world with such dominance?
Many of these great clans had existed since the Immortal Ancient Era. In the Three Thousand Dao Provinces, they had long vanished. If any of them appeared in the other world, it would cause an uproar!
This was the pinnacle. The so-called extinction, the so-called disappearance—it was all a lie. They were thriving!
A strange feeling crept over Shi Hao. *”Who exactly are we fighting? Who is the enemy?”*
Now, upon reflection, it seemed they were opposing the Immortal Ancient Era, battling the descendants of that epoch. It was absurd.
After all, in the previous era, these very beings had lived in the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, only to be buried by their enemies from this side.
Yet, he saw no trace of those enemies—only the ancient beings who should have been annihilated.
It sent chills down his spine. He remembered the visions from his divine journey into the Immortal Ancient Era. The creatures he saw now were the ones who had been destroyed, while their adversaries—though shrouded in mist—had towering forms, some humanoid, all exuding unique majesty.
*Where were those enemies?*
Shi Hao was bewildered. Crossing the borderlands, he had encountered no foes, only the ancient beings who should have been erased.
*”I must uncover the truth,”* Shi Hao declared.
Thus began his wandering, exploring ancient lands, poring over public records until they nearly fell apart in his hands.
For an entire month, Shi Hao immersed himself in a peculiar atmosphere, relentlessly searching for answers.
His efforts bore fruit when he discovered an inscription on a cliff: *”The truth is buried beneath history!”*
To the inhabitants of this world, it was nothing—just a grumble left by some disgruntled powerhouse.
But to Shi Hao, it struck like thunder.
Different people, different scenes—everything felt incongruent.
*”Investigate. I must uncover the truth!”* Shi Hao began appearing in various places.
To his astonishment, this world was unimaginably vast—far from smaller than the Three Thousand Provinces. It was boundless, endless, with no limit to its expanse.
Moreover, the number of cultivators here was staggering, and due to the laws of heaven and earth, they seemed stronger than those in the Three Thousand Provinces.
Thus, Shi Hao visited one ancient tribe after another, spending months gathering fragments of truth.
The ancient history of this world was muddled, with scant records predating the Primordial Era.
In some of the oldest tribes, remnants of artifacts and engravings piqued his suspicion.
Particularly eerie were the fragmented images on stone carvings and bronze cauldrons—baffling and cryptic.
Shi Hao paid close attention, growing ever more vigilant.
His search led him to others also seeking answers—explorers of antiquity, mostly bards and wanderers.
Their motives differed—they sought not grand secrets, but mere curiosity about the past.
Yet, for Shi Hao, they were a blessing. He needed their knowledge, their insights.
Through exchanges, he learned their ways, befriended them, and reaped immense rewards.
No matter how hard one worked alone, the results were limited—especially for an outsider like him.
*”In the whispers of a few, there was once a dark age, drenched in blood. But for some reason, that history was erased, as if forcibly turned over like a page,”* said one bard.
*”In the distant past, part of our world’s inhabitants were too powerful, too lofty. Then, inexplicably, they vanished,”* added an elder.
Shi Hao’s heart raced. After months of searching, he had finally uncovered crucial clues.
*”They were saviors, supreme and peerless beings!”* another chimed in.
These were myths passed down in the smallest circles, unknown to most, pieced together from fragmented carvings in remote cliffs.
A sense of foreboding gripped Shi Hao. If these broken fragments were fully deciphered, the truth might be unbearable—a weight too heavy to bear.
*”I want the truth!”*
He set out again, mingling with these seekers, venturing alone into ruins for clues.
Then, a breakthrough—he stumbled upon a title: *The Immortals.*
These beings, unfathomably powerful, had once walked this world, aligning with the fragmented clues he had gathered. They had shaped history.
Yet, after their disappearance, no trace remained.
*”Young man, this world holds truths beyond our comprehension, veiled in mist. But sooner or later, they will surface,”* an elder told him, offering a vital lead: not everyone was ignorant of the past.
The mightiest sects of this world likely knew what had transpired in antiquity—but they guarded the secret.
*”The oldest lineages know the truth?”* Shi Hao’s eyes gleamed.
*”Likely. I once heard a supreme elder of a sacred ground say that beyond this world, there are indeed Immortals… protecting us,”* the elder replied.
The first half of the statement thrilled Shi Hao, but the last sentence sent a chill down his spine.
*The Immortals were protecting them?*
A cold dread settled over him. If the clues from the Three Thousand Provinces were correct, those beings were the *enemies.*
How had they become saviors in this world’s narrative?
Shi Hao knew with certainty—the beings of the Immortal Ancient Era had been targets of extermination. The great war was real; he had witnessed it.
Yet now, though descendants of the destroyed survived, they had forgotten the past.
Soon, Shi Hao learned of a brewing storm—ancient sects were mobilizing, preparing for an unprecedented war.
Rumors spread that success would allow them to return to the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, to leave this place.
Shi Hao’s heart trembled. *”Is it finally happening? This world is preparing for war.”*
*”The Immortal Mountain has awakened! A great opportunity is upon us!”*
At that moment, news broke—the legendary mountain, vast beyond measure, said to harbor beings close to immortality, had stirred.
Normally silent and unremarkable, it only awakened in special epochs.
Now, it had revived, offering a chance to glimpse part of the *truth.*
According to accounts, the awakened mountain would reveal countless stone carvings—fragments of ancient history.
Shi Hao set out immediately, traveling for days before arriving.
The mountain loomed before him—colossal, its reddish-brown surface resembling dried blood, its hue undiminished by time.
An overwhelming pressure radiated from it, suffocating, as if a giant hammer had struck his chest.
Shi Hao was awed. *”This mountain is terrifying.”*
Gazing up at its peak, piercing the clouds, he marveled at its grandeur.
Approaching the base, he was stunned—carved into the stone walls were remnants of ancient diagrams, traces left by predecessors.
*”The Immortals!”*
Shi Hao’s expression shifted as he studied the engravings. The images depicted beings of unfathomable power—true immortals.
They were real. And they had once ruled this world.
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