Walking along the embankment, they encountered four ancient corpses along the way, long dead, their origins and era unknown.
They shared one common trait—each was terrifyingly powerful, their withered bodies still exuding remnants of blood. Merely approaching them made one feel as if their own body would shatter.
“What kind of creature is this fourth one? Which clan does it belong to? I’ve never seen anything like it,” Shi Hao observed from a distance.
He had never encountered such beings in the Nine Heavens, nor in the foreign realms.
Even after countless ages of death, this creature still bore a majestic aura, its head adorned with horns. In life, it must have been a peerless powerhouse. Though its body had withered, its presence remained overwhelming, exuding a pressure that could shake the world.
Most striking was the blood left behind—its power was overwhelming.
Around the glowing blood, space itself cracked and collapsed, as if the entire world might crumble.
One could only imagine how terrifying this being must have been in life.
It had a human-like head, but its face was flat, with three vertical eyes on its forehead, gleaming with faint golden light. Its desiccated body still radiated a dreadful aura.
Its humanoid form was covered in fine silver scales, and from its tailbone extended a lion’s tail, draping over the other side of the embankment.
“I’ve never seen one before, but… it might be an extinct Three-Eyed Divine Clan from ancient times. Some descendants remain today, but their forms and abilities pale in comparison to this ancestral lineage,” San Zang remarked.
According to him, this clan had once dared to wage war against true immortals. Their three eyes, when opened, could dim the heavens and shatter ancient realms.
Yet, they were exterminated. Today, none of their pure ancestral lineage remains—only scattered descendants, interbred with other races, resulting in vastly altered forms.
Now, half of all races with vertical eyes on their foreheads trace their lineage back to this clan.
“Incredibly powerful!”
The three of them retreated. Even in death, this creature’s residual blood could stir the stars and annihilate any who dared approach.
“The fifth corpse!”
Shi Hao inhaled sharply as they continued along the embankment and encountered another body—humanoid, resembling modern humans, but with skin like golden hide, gleaming faintly.
“Golden bone-hide. ‘Indestructible Diamond Body’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. In life, a single rage from it could shatter ancient realms and bring down starry rivers—a truly fearsome ancient creature!” Shen Ming said, stepping back.
Just half a step too close, and the blood’s residual power nearly tore her apart, leaving bloody marks on her body.
They soon realized that maintaining a certain distance from the embankment shielded them from the impact, as if an invisible barrier blocked the lingering power of these creatures.
Five corpses in total, each unimaginably terrifying. Merely gazing upon them invoked an instinctive urge to kneel and worship.
Even in death, lying upon the embankment, their auras still seemed capable of swallowing the primordial chaos and suppressing all realms—utterly unparalleled.
How did such mighty beings perish?
Shi Hao was certain that creatures with immortal blood were virtually eternal. How, then, could they die? Were they fatally wounded beyond the embankment?
All five shared one trait: their bodies were withered, yet the blood they shed before death remained active, still radiating divine might.
Their essence had dissipated—why did only these drops of blood endure?
“What kind of injury could cause this? Only the blood shed at the moment of death remains?”
“Or was their essence devoured by something?”
They speculated, unable to comprehend how such mighty beings all met their end here.
Should they proceed? They hesitated. After all, these five creatures had crawled back from beyond the embankment, mortally wounded before dying.
If the three of them ventured forward, wouldn’t that be suicide?
Did Liu Shen pass through without leaving any warning? Shi Hao pondered.
“Let’s find a section of the embankment without corpses and take a look beyond. We must see what lies there!” Shen Ming declared.
They couldn’t bear leaving without knowing. Creatures with immortal blood had followed this ancient path, entered that realm, only to return grievously wounded and die upon the embankment—it was too mysterious.
Finally, they found a suitable stretch—no corpses, no bloodstains, just desolate, ancient stone, cracked in many places.
“Who knows how many eons this embankment has existed?” San Zang mused. Even for a Golden Burial Guardian—a being who slumbered for millennia—its age was unfathomable.
At last, they climbed the embankment and peered beyond.
Darkness. Profound and endless. Ahead, thick mist swirled, obscuring whatever lay below.
The air was heavy with black fog, churning ominously.
What place was this? They still couldn’t tell.
When they focused their utmost divine senses, they faintly detected something—
A distant, rhythmic sound, like tides ebbing and flowing. It was faint, as if separated by vast distance… or perhaps by time itself, echoing from another era.
“Like an ocean… far away, with waves rising and falling?” Shen Ming murmured, finding the notion absurd. Was this the great terror beyond the embankment?
Surely not. There must be other dangers—ones they couldn’t yet perceive.
San Zang summoned a wooden crane, thumb-sized, smooth as jade. A rare treasure, it could channel his power, briefly matching his full strength.
Yet, the moment it flew into the darkness beyond the embankment, it shattered instantly.
San Zang’s face paled—both from the loss of the treasure and the realization: if they crossed, they’d perish just as swiftly.
They retreated, searching the surroundings instead.
The embankment’s near side was vast. After walking far along it, they discovered an altar.
An impossibly massive altar, built from the remains of stars, towering into the heavens.
Though the stellar fragments had been refined, their sheer number made the structure staggeringly large.
Beside it, near the embankment, stood a stone tablet.
“Words!” Shen Ming pointed.
Ancient immortal script was carved into it.
“None but the peerless may attempt. Do not cross,” San Zang translated.
A warning to all who came after: do not attempt to breach the embankment lightly.
The implication was staggering—even the peerless could only “attempt” to cross? The threshold of power here was terrifying.
“Footprints!”
Shen Ming’s sharp eyes caught them.
The faint trail they’d lost earlier reappeared here, leading up the altar. Many footprints marked its surface.
Had this altar been left by that lone figure?
“It’s unfinished,” San Zang noted.
Clearly, construction had halted midway. Why?
Where was this colossal altar meant to lead?
Had that first explorer sought a path beyond—or something else entirely?
Did it intend to traverse the darkness past the embankment?
All who came after had followed its fading footsteps.
Yet, the altar remained incomplete.
“This way!”
Soon, Shi Hao found more footprints—faint, leading from the altar into the mist-shrouded gloom beyond the embankment.
There, they vanished entirely.
Had countless mighty beings throughout history followed these same steps?
Had Liu Shen, too, traced this path before disappearing?
Only one being could leave footprints here.
“Liu Shen, do you have any guidance?” Shi Hao asked, addressing the glowing green branch without much hope.
To his surprise, it brightened, pointing in a direction.
“Let’s go!”
The three moved swiftly, arriving several hundred feet away at a patch of earth and scattered stones.
There, etched into the dirt, was a crude drawing.
A simple sketch, like a child’s doodle, yet unmistakably ancient.
“A… teleportation array?”
The lines formed a rudimentary formation. Too simple, yet clearly old.
It was almost laughable.
“More footprints here. Maybe the same person drew this,” Shen Ming said.
This place was strange—no traces could endure here, save those left by that one being.
Suddenly, a green leaf floated up from between the stones, glowing faintly.
Words appeared on it:
“Those not peerless, turn back via the ancient array. Seek no further.”
Liu Shen’s leaf—a warning left specifically for Shi Hao.
“Liu Shen… have you regained your full power? Remembered everything?” Shi Hao whispered.
Liu Shen had been destroyed before, not once but multiple times, only to be reborn through nirvana. Had it truly recovered now?
“A pity,” Shen Ming sighed. They still didn’t know what lay beyond the embankment.
This crude drawing in the dirt—was it truly a teleportation array that could take them back?
“Let me undergo a tribulation first—I want to seize a Thunder Pool before we leave!” Shi Hao declared.
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