Chapter 602: The Departed

“Shao Hao, wake up! Do not close your eyes!”

“Child, hold strong! You’ve just returned—haven’t even had a proper look at Shi Village yet. You must not depart this way! You must live!”

…

Heartrending cries and sorrowful words filled the air as the crowd rushed forward, cradling him and channeling their divine power into his body for one final attempt to save him.

“Actually… I do not wish to leave either. But leaving like this already fulfills me.” Shi Hao’s eyes dimmed, devoid of luster. His strength had indeed been drained entirely, like a flickering candle about to go out.

“No! You said it yourself—you promised to return to Shi Village and see it properly. You can’t leave like this!” Da Zhuang gripped his hand and roared, tears brimming in his eyes.

“Xiao Hao, we forbid you from leaving!” pleaded Little Rascal, anxious.

“Stay alive! Don’t die…” Er Meng, awkward with words, could do nothing but repeat those simple, desperate pleas.

Shi Hao gazed at them—all his childhood companions: Da Zhuang, Little Rascal, Er Meng, Hu Zi, and the bratty kid. Together they had raided nests of fierce birds, run wild across mountains, and grown up side by side.

Memories surged: joyful days without a care, the mischief they shared, their youthful explorations in the wild expanse.

“Child, hold on!” roared the uncles, their foreheads pulsing with veins, frantic and helpless.

The elder clansmen approached tremblingly, their aged faces marked with panic, praying and reciting life-extending incantations over and over.

Even the village aunties wept; even the playful children wiped tears, all feeling lost, not knowing what to do.

“Yin Tao—there are still two left! Give them to him quickly!” shouted the clan leader, Shi Yun Feng.

“No more… I’ve already wasted too much,” Shi Hao whispered weakly, barely able to speak anymore. With his wish fulfilled, he exhaled one final breath and slipped away.

Across his body, patches appeared like tarnished bronze, the terrifying glyphs flaring violently. Without his Supreme Bone, he had no strength left to resist their advance.

According to the physician Zhang Zhong’s earlier calculations, he should have had a day or two left. But now, his life force was vanishing swiftly.

“Swallow them! How is that a waste? You must live! Do not close your eyes!” Shi Yun Feng bellowed. Gentle by nature, he rarely raised his voice, but now he shouted in desperation.

Shi Hao’s eyes dimmed completely, like a guttering candle before it snuffs out. The life drained from his face, and death loomed ever closer.

Shi Zi Ling and Qin Yi Ning held his arms tightly on either side, each trying desperately to preserve something they could no longer grasp.

“Yin Tao is here! Administer it quickly and help Hao refine it!” an elder shouted.

By now, Shi Hao’s eyes were nearly shut, dull and unseeing. He could no longer perceive the world around him.

Panic-stricken, Qin Yi Ning took the Yin Tao fruit and hurriedly tried to feed it to him, hoping to help him refine even a moment more of life.

“Yin Tao won’t work—Hao has taken it before and it wasn’t enough. Use this!” Little Rascal cried out, rushing forward with Xiao Hong.

Despite their grievous wounds—one missing half its body, the other with severed wings—they somehow summoned the strength to leap through the crowd.

It was an ancient, time-worn bottle filled with the scent of eternity, emanating a sense of ancient age.

Inside, only one drop of liquor remained—it was thick, clinging stubbornly to the bottom of the flask. Pouring it out wasn’t easy. The fragrance it released was so potent some villagers collapsed from the mere scent.

This was divine wine obtained from the nest of a Kun Peng, a treasure Shi Hao had preserved ever since his return.

In the past, this drop had even been brought to the Shi Kingdom’s Imperial Palace, hoping it might save his life. But he had refused, unwilling to squander divine treasures without certainty.

Now, driven by desperation, Little Rascal and Xiao Hong tried it, placing their final hope in the ancient Kun Peng, one of the Ten Primordial Beasts.

The drop was the size of a dragon’s eye, shimmering like a gem with ethereal light. Forced into Shi Hao’s mouth, the liquor vanished into his body.

Yet by then, Shi Hao had closed his eyes, his vitality all but extinguished.

“It still might work! There must be a way to save him!”

“Even a single day more would be enough!”

They poured their united strength into him, guiding the liquor into a torrent of warmth that spread through his limbs and veins, radiating brilliant light.

The onlookers gasped, eyes widening—could this be the miracle they hoped for?

“This drink has the properties of divine medicine! Truly extraordinary!” Little Rascal exclaimed in awe.

Shi Hao’s body began glowing; every inch of his skin exuded a luminous mist, enveloping him.

Indeed, the liquor left behind by the Kun Peng, one of the Ten Primordial Beasts, carried divine power. Had it not been for the uniquely potent curse of the Immortal Hall, any other injury, even death itself, might have been undone.

All watched in tense silence, whispering prayers, hoping for a miracle.

No one expected such a single drop of liquor to surpass even the Holy Herb brought back by the War Kings. A pleasant, unexpected surprise.

Yet Shi Hao remained motionless, his eyes closed, his vitality undisturbed, showing no change.

Anxiety gripped the crowd. Restless and tense, they could barely stand still.

Gradually, a fragrance of wine exuded from Shi Hao, and a faint mist shimmered around his body as though he were merely sleeping off a drunken stupor.

Unfortunately, his breath had nearly ceased, deepening their despair.

Time stretched, immeasurable. Those with weaker cultivation—children and the young—began to fall unconscious beneath the overwhelming effects of the liquor’s fumes.

The potency of this drop was no ordinary gift.

“Alas… It was not enough to defy fate,” Xiao Hong sighed. With their divine sight ignited, she and Little Rascal could see the truth and only shook their heads.

“It might stir him awake for a short while, but no more than that. After all, this is only liquor from the Kun Peng, not a life-saving elixir,” Little Rascal said grimly.

A pall fell over the crowd, their faces paling at the words.

Clan leader Shi Yun Feng clenched his fist, sighing softly. “Return to Shi Village. Let the child see the place where he grew up one last time with his own eyes.”

Stone houses lined the village streets, built from solid mountain rock. Dried meats hung on courtyard walls, and beast skins dried on rooftops.

The streets stood silent, the stone-paved ground spotless. On either side, fields of immortal herbs grew in neat rows.

Half a day passed before Shi Hao’s breathing deepened slightly. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, and a wave of astonished cries rose around him.

“Made you all worry again,” he murmured weakly. Both he and they knew—his time was short now.

Er Meng carried him through the village, from street to street. The clan leader’s old yellow dog, its tail half-bald, trotted beside them joyfully.

The familiar paths, the familiar faces—it stirred in Shi Hao a sense of confusion and longing, like stepping back into his childhood.

He recalled those days when he was the smallest, called “Little One” by the villagers, always trailing behind the older kids, tugging playfully on the yellow dog’s tail.

Finally, they reached the village entrance. Shi Hao sat there, gazing at the small clay pot in the clan leader’s courtyard, and smiled.

The others smiled knowingly, recalling the days when, each morning, he’d secretly boil beast milk in that very pot, trying not to be seen.

Many had teased him, yet he had persisted, always sneaking to make his secret brew, his face smudged with soot and ash.

“Alas… Willow God is gone,” Shi Hao sighed softly. So many dreams remained—ascending to the Upper Realm, challenging the Divine Prodigies and Heavenly Talents, seeking the mysterious lands for Willow God. But now, no chance remained.

Silence fell. If Willow God had still been here, perhaps everything might have changed.

Looking at the immortal herbs, the Yin Tao tree, and even the Ba Zhen chicken, they felt a deep nostalgia. Back then, Shi Hao had already been bringing treasures into the village, a young guardian with a mature heart.

Though young, he had changed Shi Village forever.

“Uncle Hao, you’ll live. You’ll be fine,” a child tugged his sleeve, lifting tearful eyes to him.

To them, Shi Hao was the best uncle in the world. Every time he returned, he took them into the wilds—robbing nests of fierce beasts, capturing terrifying creatures, fulfilling every dream.

To the children, he was invincible, almighty. Yet now, he was dying, and each child wept bitterly.

Shi Hao stroked the children’s heads one by one. Gazing at them felt like gazing at his own younger self. He smiled silently.

Farther away, Yue Chan stood motionless, not yet departed from the village. Her heart churned with complex emotion. She understood everything now—only a sigh remained.

Even the old woman had asked if there was a way, hoping for another chance.

But even with her aid, there was nothing to be done. The Main and Secondary Body cultivation method would take too long, far beyond the time Shi Hao had left.

“Jiu jiu…” Great Peng, Xiao Qing, and Zi Yun approached, nuzzling against Shi Hao, tears glistening in their eyes. They knew too. They clung to him, loath to let go.

“You must protect Shi Village after I’m gone. Don’t fly too far,” Shi Hao murmured.

The fierce birds nodded fiercely, tears brimming.

Not far off, a unicorn came galloping—Bai Xia, on the verge of evolving into a Celestial Pegasus, with snow-white wings spanning its back, whinnying and circling Shi Hao repeatedly.

The sun dipped westward, a crimson glow casting a melancholic beauty across the sky. The horizon bled red.

Shi Hao gazed at the fading sunlight, at his village, at the beloved faces around him. He reached out, wanting to grasp something, to speak one final word. But his strength failed him.

His eyes lost focus; his vision faded. With his last effort, he stretched forth his hand, bidding them farewell.

“Child!”

A chorus of anguished cries erupted, all reaching desperately for him.

Beneath the crimson glow of sunset, Shi Hao’s flame of life extinguished. His voice grew silent. His eyes closed, carrying with them a shadow of regret. He took his final breath.

“Child!”

The people wailed, overcome with grief. Everything they tried, all their efforts—still could not keep him.

Cries, sobs, whispered laments wove into a sorrowful tapestry.

That night, a mourning silence fell over Shi Village, pierced only by unending weeping. Nothing more could be done.

The next morning, although the morning glow was as radiant as ever, Shi Hao lay still. Placed in a wooden coffin, he was carried to a small hill, laid to rest according to his final wish.

A humble grave rose, overlooking Shi Village.

From here, he would always see the village, the villagers—always stay with them.