Chapter 1762: Fleeting Years

Shi Hao’s primordial spirit returned to his body. He opened his eyes and stood motionless for a long time, lost in deep thought.

Beside him, the golden lion guarding him flickered its golden eyes incessantly, also pondering—what kind of place was that? It had actually drawn Shi Hao into a trance.

In the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, people were competing fiercely, vying for the qualification to enter the Immortal Domain and to gain the favor of its powerful orthodoxies.

Shi Hao contemplated deeply, his thoughts drifting to that unfathomable “young master” and others, stirring ripples in his heart.

If he hadn’t been afflicted by the Immortal-Severing Curse, that creature would have tried to drag him into following some so-called young master—something he hadn’t expected.

“Becoming someone else’s subordinate?” Shi Hao scoffed coldly, wondering just how strong such a creature could be.

A sense of urgency gripped him. He had to train relentlessly, forge his own path. Otherwise, who knew what terrifying opponents he might face in the future?

At the same time, a surge of ambition filled him. Even if he cultivated silently in the lowly lower realm, he would still achieve the Dao. Sooner or later, he would break through.

The upper realms were embroiled in war, the Immortal Domain in upheaval—great waves were certain. For now, he needed to steady his mind, refine his own techniques, and witness the perfection of his own Dao.

In the eastern part of the Stone Country, the disaster had ended.

Not long after, Shi Hao returned to the imperial capital of the Stone Country, greeted by cheers from countless people who sincerely hailed him as the Stone Emperor.

The imperial capital had many visitors, such as Qianqian, one of the Ten Great Beauties of the Profound Domain. She had been the first to meet Shi Hao after his descent to the lower realm and had now come to visit.

Today, many guests arrived. After confirming Shi Hao’s return, a large group came to see him.

The nine-headed lion, Jin Hong, arrived, his golden fur dazzling, his nine heads radiant like a celestial being descending to earth. It had to be said—his lineage was naturally divine and majestic.

He had taken human form, concealing half of his heads, appearing like an ordinary person. He brought several others with him—a fire crow, a five-colored luan bird, a purple marten, and two brothers from the Three-Eyed Clan.

These individuals could be considered Shi Hao’s friends through conflict.

First, the nine-headed lion had suffered greatly at Shi Hao’s hands in the past, even being ridden as a mount—though it had been due to the lion’s arrogance and disrespect.

Among the others, the five-colored luan bird had also suffered, having a large chunk of its flesh sliced off by Shi Hao and roasted in the Hundred Shattered Mountains.

In the end, things had turned out well. They had grown closer to Shi Hao, and Jin Hong had even become his sworn brother.

Over the years, whenever people spoke of Shi Hao’s past, the nine-headed lion was often mentioned.

“You’ve improved!” Shi Hao laughed heartily, stepping forward to greet them. Reuniting after so many years brought joy and endless emotion.

Even Jin Hong himself shook his head, amused. Back then, they had fought to the death. That they could now be brothers was truly unbelievable.

“Who’s this? A fellow lion?” Jin Hong eyed the golden lion.

The golden lion had always been proud and arrogant, never considering taking human form—at least not now. He believed his lineage was transcendent, above such transformations.

Hearing a lower-realm lion comment on him and call him “brother” enraged him.

“You little lion, how dare you disrespect me!” The golden lion bared its fangs, threatening Jin Hong.

*Whack!*

Shi Hao smacked its head without hesitation. “No baring fangs. Behave.”

Then, he turned to Jin Hong and explained, “This is my mount.”

“Oh, my fellow lion, how disappointing. How could you stoop to being my brother’s mount?” Jin Hong teased.

Shi Hao sighed inwardly—this guy was no saint either, provoking the golden lion.

The golden lion was furious. In its eyes, all lower-realm creatures, even its kin, were beneath notice. To be spoken to like this was an insult.

The pure-blooded nine-headed lion was one of the Ten Great Mounts, but they were notoriously ferocious, having slain gods who tried to ride them.

Strictly speaking, their lineage was related to the Fearless Lion, though the nine-headed golden lion was clearly a mutation.

“Teach him some of your secret techniques when you have time,” Shi Hao said to the Fearless Lion.

“Why should I?!” the Fearless Lion roared.

“Your fellow lion here was once my mount too, but he later became my brother. If you teach him some skills, I’m sure he’ll help you break free,” Shi Hao coaxed.

The effect was immediate. Later, the Fearless Lion and the nine-headed lion grew quite close.

Soon, another group arrived—descendants of the lower realm’s Sky Mending Pavilion. Qingfeng also came out to greet them.

They held deep affection for the Sky Mending Pavilion, having trained there in their youth.

Of course, this was different from the Sky Mending Sect.

Even though Shi Hao had trained there, he only acknowledged the Ghost Grandpa, not the Sky Mending Sect.

The lower realm’s Sky Mending Pavilion had been founded by the Ghost Grandpa after he defected from the upper realm’s sect.

Too much had happened there. Shi Hao sighed, emotions surging. He would visit again—had the guardian vine, that gourd tendril, been reborn? Had it undergone nirvana?

“Prominent horns!”

When Shi Hao saw the group from Sky Mending Pavilion, he burst into laughter at a silver-robed youth—Xiao Tian, once the strongest among his peers there after Shi Hao.

Hearing “prominent horns,” Xiao Tian’s face darkened. Hitting where it hurts…

Their first meeting had been dramatic—Shi Hao had repeatedly ambushed him, leaving his forehead covered in bumps, hence the nickname.

“Hahaha…” The group erupted in laughter.

Among them were Zhou Yuhao, Yan Xin, Piaoxue, and other old acquaintances from Sky Mending Pavilion.

The reunion was joyous. Qingfeng drank with them, while Shi Hao sighed when asked about the upper realm, sharing only fragments.

Many things were too bizarre, too unbelievable to explain.

Misunderstanding his cultivation level as Heavenly Deity, they were still stunned—what monstrous speed was this, reaching such heights in just over a decade?

Shi Hao smiled bitterly. Childhood friends would one day drift apart. When he left again, he might never cross paths with them—his road was too long, too perilous, too lonely.

For a moment, he envied the ancient orthodoxies of the Immortal Domain, where young companions could walk the same path together.

He sighed softly, a pang of melancholy in his heart.

Yet, Shi Hao was content. This reunion was enough. Even if they never met again, even if their paths diverged, the laughter, the memories—they were enough.

Finally, he bid them farewell, promising to visit each in turn.

The next day, Shi Hao arrived at Sky Mending Pavilion, rebuilt upon ruins, carrying their shared past.

In that battle long ago, too many had died. It was the younger generation who had rebuilt.

There, Shi Hao met another familiar face—Xia Youyu, as talented as Xiao Tian, a woman who had left a deep impression on him.

She had been the first outsider he met after leaving Stone Village, encountering the seven-year-old Shi Hao in the wilderness.

“Senior Sister Xia!” Shi Hao greeted her, memories flooding back.

Few elders remained at Sky Mending Pavilion, a mere handful. Shi Hao paid his respects solemnly, his heart full of emotion.

Qingfeng wept, bitter and sorrowful.

When Sky Mending Pavilion fell, so many elders had died protecting their disciples, so many senior brothers and sisters had perished holding the line for the younger ones.

“Elder Mu Yan, I’ve come to see you.” Shi Hao knelt before a grave, eyes stinging.

This venerable elder had taught him thunder techniques, a mentor in truth, lost in that storm.

Before leaving, Shi Hao saw a vine growing from the ruins—its leaves emerald, its aura divine. It was the seed of the old guardian vine, found and nurtured.

Yet, his heart sank. The vine remembered nothing. Reborn, it was a new being.

“But there is hope. Tender shoots, vibrant life—this is transcendence.” Shi Hao left, carrying that hope with him.

His heart was heavy. This visit felt like a farewell—to the past, to lost years. He knew he might never return.

Walking these old paths was perhaps his final goodbye.

Once he set foot on his destined road, there would be no turning back.

After leaving, Shi Hao dismissed Qingfeng and the golden lion, walking alone in silence toward the North Sea.

The sea churned, black as ink.

Gazing into the distance, Shi Hao knew he had to go—to the Kun Peng’s Nest, to uncover its mysteries.