Chapter 1332: The Mountains and Rivers of Chu

Two voices rang out simultaneously, resounding across the vast borderlands of the Great Scarlet Heaven!

From the abyss of darkness, a figure emerged, its steps causing the earth to tremble slightly. Wrapped in black mist yet adorned with a faint crimson glow, it bore a terrifying halo—a blood-red divine ring, evidence of countless lives it had slaughtered.

On the side of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, many turned their gazes toward the source of the voice—a ship forged of immortal gold, filled with young warriors. Some glanced at Shi Hao, but the voice had not been his.

From the opposite shore, demonic figures akin to gods and devils also turned their attention, their cold stares fixed upon them.

**”What are you staring at? Are your eyes crooked? I, your king, am right here!”** A thunderous voice boomed—not from Shi Hao’s mouth, but from his shoulder.

At last, the crowd understood—it was someone else entirely!

Many had to activate their divine sight, peering closely, for the creature that had spoken was incredibly small.

It was the Heavenly Horned Ant, roaring its challenge to the foreign cultivators!

Its hatred for the beings of the opposite shore ran bone-deep. Its father had fallen in battle, its mother slain, and its siblings massacred by none other than He Wushuang. The grudge was vast as the heavens.

From the black abyss, the creatures remained indifferent. One of them sneered coldly, **”The Heavenly Horned Ant—not yet extinct?”**

**”My lineage has endured since ancient times! How could we perish? Prepare your necks—I will come for them soon!”** the golden ant bellowed.

**”Is this realm so devoid of warriors that it sends an immature insect to fight?”** another voice mocked from the abyss.

These beings were ruthless, sparing few words, yet each utterance cut deep. Their blood-soaked records left no room for rebuttal.

**”Nonsense! I have trained for twenty years—no, eighteen… or perhaps seventeen! Who dares face me?”** the ant clamored.

The crowd fell silent. Even its claimed years of cultivation were uncertain—was this descendant of the Ten Fiends truly reliable?

**”Enough,”** an elder murmured, silencing it.

Though the ant’s intentions were noble—to fight and defeat the enemy—it was still immature, not yet of the younger generation’s age. Its time had not come.

**”But I want to fight!”** the ant insisted stubbornly.

**”Your time will come, but not now. Do you not see? The strongest of each era are stepping forth in order. You will have your turn,”** the Grand Elder said.

On the warship, all the young supreme beings clenched their fists, their gazes locked on the black mist shrouding the ruins.

**”Is there no one who dares face me?”** the dark figure challenged again.

An elder from the opposing side stepped forward. The golden ant could not be sent out now—even as a disruption, it would be meaningless.

**”I will fight him!”**

At that moment, an elder emerged from the Immortal Academy—his skin sallow, hair streaked with gray, his frame gaunt as he advanced step by step.

There was no retreat, no refusal. If the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths failed to answer the challenge, morale would plummet further.

**”Who is he?”** Many wondered, studying the unremarkable figure—a frail, sickly old man with no aura of power.

Yet none doubted his significance. Only someone extraordinary would dare represent this generation.

**”Chu Shanhe!”**

Someone recognized him, murmuring his name with reverence.

**”Chu Shanhe? Why does that sound familiar?”** another whispered.

Though his fame had faded, his past glory was undeniable.

**”Five hundred thousand years ago, he was known as ‘He Who Devours Mountains and Rivers,’ a peerless genius who dominated his era alongside another—the Twin Prodigies of their age.”**

**”Ah, I remember now—a blazing star who vanished as swiftly as he rose.”**

With prompting, memories resurfaced.

Chu Shanhe had been the Immortal Academy’s brightest star, until tragedy struck.

He and seven others—the most dazzling young supremes of their time—had ventured into a forbidden zone in the Nine Heavens, seeking a fallen immortal king’s weapon and a lost legend.

Only Chu Shanhe returned. The others perished, including his beloved, his equal in the Twin Prodigies.

The loss shattered him. Some said his will to conquer died; others claimed grief drove him mad.

For five hundred thousand years, he had languished, forgotten—until now.

**”Shanhe, your condition… it remains unresolved,”** an Immortal Academy elder fretted.

**”I can fight,”** Chu Shanhe insisted.

Yet as his divine power surged, his sallow face flushed crimson, blood trickling from his lips.

The crowd’s hearts sank. How could he battle when even standing wounded him?

**”Shanhe, you cannot go. Your body is not ready,”** the Grand Elder urged.

What kind of injury festered for half a million years, defying even the Immortal Academy’s healing?

**”It does not matter. This ailment has tempered me. It will not hinder this fight,”** Chu Shanhe declared.

**”Ah, the wounds from the forbidden zone—the black and white light of life and death. Only he survived,”** someone murmured.

Chu Shanhe fought not out of stubbornness, but necessity. Others would surely fall.

As the former number one of his era, his chances were higher—even with his affliction.

With no other choice, he had emerged to fight.

**”Boom!”**

From the abyss, the enemy advanced, each step like a hammer upon their hearts.

**”Ah—!”**

Some screamed, unable to endure the agony. The steps alone wounded them, blood seeping from their lips.

With a sweep of his sleeve, Chu Shanhe tore through the void, silencing the steps as he faced his foe.

**”A blood-drenched halo,”** he observed. The enemy’s black mist swirled with a crimson ring—condensed from the essence of countless slain.

**”Come!”** the enemy roared, his humanoid form radiating overwhelming bloodlust.

**”Boom!”**

The battle erupted, shaking heaven and earth. Their movements blurred—only the cracks in the sky and falling stars bore witness.

Lightning split the clouds, raining blood—a celestial lament for the fallen souls stirred by their clash.

Few could evoke such phenomena. Only supreme beings could.

A hundred exchanges, a hundred and fifty…

The duel escalated, nearing two hundred moves.

**”Cough—”** Chu Shanhe spat blood, his condition worsening.

**”End this!”** the enemy snarled. His blood-ring morphed into a weapon, ensnaring Chu Shanhe, threatening to bisect him.

**”Why can’t he break free?”** Panic surged. Another supreme would fall.

If even the former number one lost, despair would deepen.

The enemy lunged, claws aimed at Chu Shanhe’s skull—a fatal strike.

**”Ssshh—!”**

Suddenly, Chu Shanhe’s body erupted in black and white light, severing the blood-ring as he countered.

**”Splat!”**

The enemy split from brow to waist, his body exploding.

**”What was that?”** Gasps filled the air.

Against all odds, Chu Shanhe had triumphed.

Cheers erupted—but were cut short as Chu Shanhe collapsed, blood gushing, his body desiccated as if drained of life.

The Immortal Academy rushed to save him.

**”Fascinating. The black and white light of life and death—unique to a forbidden zone. Instead of destroying him, he nurtured it within,”** a voice mused from the abyss.

Even they acknowledged the forbidden zone’s mystery.

**”Shanhe tempered that light into a weapon. He overexerted himself—he must rest!”** the Grand Elder urged.

**”Unexpected. Our eleventh-ranked warrior from five hundred thousand years ago has fallen,”** another voice remarked.

The words chilled the Nine Heavens’ forces.

Chu Shanhe—their former number one—had only defeated the enemy’s eleventh?

The victory felt hollow, the weight of despair heavier.

Then, from the abyss, three figures emerged—an elder, a middle-aged man, and a young king, spanning generations.

**”One-on-one is tedious. Let us fight in three pairs—quickly!”** the elder declared.

Their disdain was clear. Even after Chu Shanhe’s victory, they remained unshaken.

These three represented the pinnacle of their respective eras—ranked far higher than eleventh.

**”Good! I’ve waited long enough!”** the golden ant cried, leaping up—only for Shi Hao to yank it back.