Chapter 1737: The Vanishing

There was no white-robed man, no Daoist child, no thatched cottage, no grand metallic palaces, no cosmic lake, nor any sacred mountains—everything that had been seen was now gone.

Here, only silence remained, along with a few scattered bones, withering through the ages, coldly enduring in desolation, a scene of profound bleakness.

Shi Hao felt a chill from head to toe. What had he just experienced?

Just moments ago, everything had felt so real, so unimaginable, like a fleeting dream. And now, awakening to this, his spine was still crawling with cold sweat.

It was truly terrifying. After all, he was a cultivator at the Dunyi realm, with profound mastery, one who had shattered the records of this era, creating myths—an unprecedented young prodigy.

Yet, he had been ensnared. That dream had been too real.

Lowering his gaze to the snow-white, yet incomplete skull before him, he involuntarily took a few steps back, his heart pounding. If his suspicions were true, it was too horrifying.

Had a mighty master of the Forbidden Land truly met such an end?

The so-called supremacy, the power to dominate the world, the invincible might—all had come to nothing. Not even his own body had been preserved, reduced to smoke. The grand tides of fate had swept him away in an instant.

A ruler of the Forbidden Lands, reduced to bones, lying cold and forgotten in the wilderness, accompanied only by eternal solitude.

This scene was eerily reminiscent of what mortals called “dream visitation”—where the dead manifest their lingering obsessions through dreams.

A master of the Forbidden Lands, a being of boundless divine might, capable of defying fate and standing unrivaled in the world, had still met this wretched end. To “manifest” in such a way was nothing short of tragic.

Shi Hao stared at the snow-white skull, struggling to accept it. Had the dream, so vivid and real, truly been its doing?

A cold wind swept across the parched earth, howling mournfully, deepening the desolation of the place.

Shi Hao retreated further, putting distance between himself and the skull. He began searching the area, meticulously combing for more traces of history, more clues.

There was a broken mountain range, once shrouded in immortal mist. In the dream, they hadn’t been towering, yet they exuded an aura capable of suppressing the heavens—mountains of the Great Dao.

Upon them had stood metallic palaces, each grand beyond measure, so overwhelming that even a glance could rend the soul with pain.

But now, looking around, what remained beyond the shattered peaks?

*Clang!*

His foot struck scattered rubble. The cold wind lifted dust, revealing fragments of metal tiles and remnants of foundations.

They were metallic—the ruins of what had once been magnificent structures.

All had been destroyed, reduced to nothing.

There were no eternally youthful beauties, no undying legacies. Everything rots in time—even a master of the Forbidden Lands, mighty as he was, had turned to dust.

Shi Hao turned back, returning to the medicinal field. It was still there, its former glory faintly visible—the ridges of the field, the withered plants.

It was eerie. While the metallic palaces had crumbled, here, decayed divine herbs still lingered, an unsettling anomaly.

The field glowed as Shi Hao approached, releasing a rain of light. The withered herbs, the rotten divine grasses, turned to ash before his eyes.

Startled, he halted. With a soft sigh, he realized this was the last vestige of the field’s spiritual essence, preserving its former appearance.

But what was lost could never return.

He turned away, and on his way back, he spotted the Golden Lion, motionless, seemingly deep in slumber.

Shi Hao approached and patted it. Indeed, it was asleep, unharmed.

“What happened?” The Golden Lion suddenly snapped its eyes open, fur bristling as it leaped back, staring at Shi Hao with alarm.

“*Roar—*”

It let out a low growl, feeling a sharp pain in one paw. Looking down, it recalled the events before its slumber.

“The cosmic lake… my fur, my flesh…”

It remembered clearly—Shi Hao had crossed the lake, and it had tried to follow, only for its paw to be corroded by the lake’s rules, flesh stripped away until only bone remained.

Now, the pain still lingered, though its flesh and fur had regrown.

“Hmm?” Shi Hao noticed the blood on its paw, surprised. Had the dream not been entirely illusory?

“Why is the cosmic lake dried up?” The Golden Lion was stunned. Then, looking around, it froze in disbelief.

Where was the lush greenery? The immortal mist? All had vanished, leaving behind a wasteland.

Even the scent of the immortal herbs was gone.

The Golden Lion stood petrified. Then, baring its teeth, it pawed at the dried-up lakebed, stirring fine sand.

But to its shock, the moment it disturbed the grains, the earth trembled violently, the very heavens seeming to shake.

The Golden Lion scrambled back, stunned. Each grain of sand was as heavy as a star.

Shi Hao, too, was astonished. Kneeling, he picked up a handful of sand—each grain weighed like a celestial body.

“This… truly is a cosmic lake!” he murmured in awe.

Every grain was a real star, refined into sand. The once-glistening waters had been a sea of stars, gathered before the master’s humble abode.

What a grand display of power!

With the master’s demise, the cosmos had dried up, the lake turning to sand, its former glory lost.

Returning to the skull, Shi Hao found no trace of the thatched cottage or the tree stump—all had vanished.

In their place lay three skulls, positioned exactly where the white-robed man and the two Daoist children had stood.

The Golden Lion shuddered, unable to believe its eyes.

With a sigh, Shi Hao knelt, intending to bury the skull, to spare it further desecration.

But to his shock, he couldn’t move it. The skull remained immovable, as if anchored to the fabric of the world.

A mere skull, yet he couldn’t lift it?

With his strength, plucking stars from the sky was trivial, yet this skull defied him.

Then he noticed something unusual.

Brushing away the dirt, he uncovered stone tablets, each inscribed with writing—some bold and powerful, others delicate and graceful.

The first tablet bore a signature: *Ao Gu!*

The name of the first youth the master had mentioned in the dream—the most formidable prodigy of the Chaos Clan from the early Immortal Ancient Era.

One by one, he recognized the names—all the youths from the dream.

The final tablet bore the name of Qing Yue, the Lunar Grace Goddess.

It hadn’t been an illusion. It was all real.

From the tablets, he gleaned fragments of truth. Those prodigies had indeed come here, received teachings, and apprenticed under the master.

But even then, the master had already been a skull, just as he was now.

They, too, had tried to bury him, but failed, leaving only these inscriptions as memorials.

Shi Hao’s mind reeled. Just how ancient was this master? Even in the early Immortal Ancient Era, he had already been a skull. When had he died?

Nearby lay a teapot, jade fragments, and a broken cup—all relics from the dream.

Shi Hao picked up the teapot, then the cup. To his astonishment, when he poured, tea flowed out—still crimson, still faintly steaming.

He was stunned. How many years had passed? Over an entire era, yet the tea remained warm?

The Golden Lion gulped, entranced by the rich aroma.

Shi Hao took a sip. The taste was the same—bitter, astringent, unbearable.

Seeing the Golden Lion’s eager gaze, he poured it a drop.

Instantly, the lion howled, writhing on the ground in agony, as if its body were tearing apart.

“Bitter! Painful!” it roared, thrashing wildly.

At the same moment, Shi Hao sensed a shift. Looking up, he saw the thatched cottage reappear, the low hills, the metallic palaces, the medicinal field—all restored.

And there, seated before him, was the white-robed man, smiling gently, flanked by two Daoist children.

“I did say this tea wasn’t for just anyone,” he remarked lightly.

With a tap of his finger, the Golden Lion coughed up shimmering droplets, its pain subsiding.

“Senior!” Shi Hao called out, voice trembling.

“It’s time for you to leave. Settle your worldly affairs, then return.”

This time, Shi Hao seized the jade without hesitation. As he stood, everything vanished once more, leaving only the skull behind.

“My body perished long ago. What is lost remains lost.”

These were the last words Shi Hao heard before departing.

The Golden Lion, thoroughly spooked, needed no urging. It bolted, carrying Shi Hao away at breakneck speed, fleeing the Forbidden Land as fast as it could.