Once feared, distrusted, and scorned by certain clans—branded as tainted, their blood deemed impure, even slandered as flowing with filthy sin—now, their name was cleared by two Burial Mausoleum dwellers, revealing fragments of the truth. This left Shi Hao with a tumult of emotions.
His forehead still glowed as he strode resolutely toward the ancient city.
“Tell me everything—what exactly happened?” Shi Hao pressed, knowing this concerned the fate of certain clans beyond the Imperial Pass.
“This city has stood for more than an era—it is the true ruins of the ancient Imperial Pass, surviving countless epochs of upheaval!” Sanzang began with these startling words.
The “epochs” he spoke of were no ordinary spans of time, for the Burial Mausoleum dwellers slumbered through millennia, measuring time in fractions of an era.
Then, he recounted fragments of history.
In the past, this was the true Imperial City. Ravaged by endless war, it had been breached, besieged by vast armies, and even sealed by supreme formations.
Most notably, in one era, an unbreakable formation shrouded the sky, isolating the city from the outside world.
The once-indomitable Imperial City, standing tall through countless ages, was ultimately abandoned—relegated to a vanguard fortress, left to hold the front lines.
Meanwhile, those untouched by the crisis built a new, towering city in the rear.
Shi Hao listened in silence.
The Burial Mausoleum dwellers were mere observers, awakening only sporadically to glimpse the war. They could never grasp the full truth.
“This Primordial Imperial Pass holds immense power. Though smaller than the new city piercing the heavens, its resilience and might surpass it. Its walls have been stained with the blood of True Immortals and Undying beings—even Undying Kings have fallen upon its ramparts, and Immortal Kings perished within!” Shenming unveiled these earth-shattering truths.
Legend spoke of a glorious age when the Imperial City bathed in divine radiance, bolstering the fortunes of all clans, with heroes from the Immortal Realm coming and going.
Thus, it had a resplendent past.
In one ancient era, a grand ceremony was held within its walls to enfeoff kings—clans with unparalleled achievements were granted royal titles.
Their leaders could bear their clan names as kings.
Thus, there were the Vermilion Bird King, the Human King, the Dragon King…
Hearing this, Shi Hao’s heart stirred. Back in the lower realm, he had believed that Huo Ling’er’s Fire Clan carried Vermilion Bird blood, assuming they were descendants of an ancient lineage. But now it seemed their heritage stretched even further—their veins truly flowed with the blood of the Vermilion Bird!
“Among them, the Human King was not a single clan but divided among two or three surnames, with two or three kings. By now, most have likely perished,” Shenming said.
According to her, the kings of the borderlands numbered far more than seven.
“That was the most glorious age of the Primordial Imperial Pass!” Even Sanzang marveled.
It was precisely because of such grandeur that the Burial Mausoleum dwellers took notice, with some of their mighty secretly recording it in their burial texts.
In that era, the Imperial Pass triumphed, bathed in divine light, illuminating all realms.
If even the heroes of the Immortal Realm sought to visit, it spoke of a brilliance far beyond this current era.
Shi Hao fell silent. The age she spoke of must have been unimaginably ancient—once home to many kings, yet by later generations, only seven remained.
And Shi Hao knew: if only seven kings remained in later times, it meant only seven clans likely endured within the city.
“In the past, enfeoffment as kings was a recognition, a radiant legacy, blessed by all clans. Thus, those marks were symbols of glory and splendor.”
As Sanzang explained, the original enfeoffed kings possessed great divine abilities, blessed by all clans, forming even mightier powers—their brilliance fused into their bones, manifesting as intricate patterns.
“You mean these patterns are symbols of glory, blessings from all the clans of the world?” Shi Hao asked, astonished.
“Yes. It was a grand event, stirring even the Burial Kings. The burial texts record that some Burial Kings personally investigated in secret,” Sanzang affirmed.
These patterns were blessings with unfathomable power. If fully awakened, they could protect their clansmen.
Beyond that, they carried legacies—supreme divine abilities!
This was the crux: the glorious marks formed by the kingly patterns, along with their clan’s divine treasures, held peerless techniques.
Lost in thought, Shi Hao wondered: Were his Supreme Bone and Shi Yi’s dual pupils remnants of such ancient clan abilities?
Could certain prodigies’ origins be explained this way?
Otherwise, how could such peerless arts manifest within mere infants?
“Just how ancient were the Seven Kings? Could they have lived so long?” Shi Hao doubted.
Yet Shenming’s words shed some light.
“The original enfeoffed kings perished long ago, fighting until their souls were extinguished. For this ancient city was once breached, its people slaughtered. Even the Immortal Realm severed ties. The later kings were likely successors—their descendants.”
Once glorious, once resplendent—by later ages, the strongest of the enfeoffed clans became their kings.
According to Sanzang, the era of the Seven Kings was separated from the original enfeoffments by vast eons—they were descendants.
Shi Hao frowned, unconvinced. Some things felt far more complex than they seemed.
“Was I mistaken? Were the scenes I saw through the altar not from this era, but from a far older time—the seven survivors among the original enfeoffed kings?”
“Or were there truly seven mighty heroes in later generations?”
He couldn’t be certain. The new Imperial Pass held some truths, hinting at answers, but he dared not trust them fully.
“Have the blessings of the clans, their glorious marks, been forgotten even by their descendants?” Shi Hao mocked himself.
Yet, recalling how the Nine Heavens had been annihilated, slaughtered to the last, it made sense. Such destruction likely occurred across multiple eras, severing legacies.
Most crucially, clans like the Shi Clan had seemingly committed some act, earning the enmity—even persecution—of others, giving rise to the “sinful blood” slander.
And if the mark on one’s forehead was taken as proof of sinful blood, it was utterly absurd!
As they neared the ancient city, the uneven ground was littered with bones—some so lifelike, one might doubt if they still harbored life.
Shenming inspected them closely, confirming their deaths. Even their mana and essence had dried up, else they would still exude pressure.
Yet, why were their flesh and forms so perfectly preserved?
“That is…”
Sanzang was stunned. On a patch of land not far from the city, a pile of bones burned like a bonfire, its flames pale red.
Amid the skeletal remains, patches of unburned flesh lingered—even half a face.
Around the flames, seals of all kinds—a supreme formation—contained the fire.
“This formation is of the Undying level!” Shenming gasped.
This meant the flesh and bones burning within had been aflame since time immemorial—their origins terrifying!
And they found not one such pyre, but many!
Such beings had all fallen before the city, their destructive auras sealed away by peerless runes.
“On the walls… there are living beings!”
As they drew closer, Sanzang gaped in shock. After all this time, did the city still harbor life?
Shi Hao stared blankly, lifting his gaze to the walls. The place was desolate, silent, devoid of vitality.
Yet, atop the ancient gate tower, figures stood—living beings.
“Children…?”
They were a group of ragged children, ranging from eight or nine to fifteen or sixteen, their faces smudged, their clothes in tatters.
Beside them stood a few elderly figures—frail, as if bearing grave injuries, their vitality damaged, their expressions solemn as they looked down.
The weak, the old, the wounded—this described them.
“All these years, and someone still guards this place, never leaving?” Even Shenming was astonished.
“After so long, who have they been fighting in this era?” Shi Hao murmured.
In an instant, a thought struck him: Were they now suspended in the heavens, at the apex of the Celestial Abyss?
Could they be the survivors of the true Primordial Imperial Pass, steadfastly guarding the passage within the abyss?
Beyond the new Imperial Pass, above the desert, lay the Celestial Abyss—barring the Undying and their kings from crossing. None could explain its nature.
In this era, the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths had long been peaceful, untouched by threat.
But here was different. The creatures of the Foreign Lands had never ceased their assaults.
Were these people—these ragged, frail elders and children—the ones holding the line, standing firm at the forefront?
“Clansman…” On the wall, an elder fixed his gaze on Shi Hao, on the flickering runic flames at his brow, and spoke hoarsely, his clouded eyes glimmering with a faint light.
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