Chapter 1467: A Glimpse of Eternity

Damn it!

Shi Hao felt an eerie discomfort from head to toe, a chill running down his spine. What he had experienced today was too bizarre, something he could hardly believe or accept.

Someone was mourning, and their face looked familiar!

Others stood by his side, insisting that he was already dead, that what remained was merely an unyielding obsession. The combination of it all sent shivers down his spine.

Shi Hao stretched his limbs, his bones cracking loudly. He opened his mouth, and his jawbone emitted crisp, snapping sounds.

He didn’t stop moving, dashing swiftly toward the horizon where chaotic mist swirled. A river of time severed past and present, and a Daoist priest wailed in grief.

**Heaven’s Mutation!**

This upheaval was too vast, its implications unfathomable, involving unpredictable stretches of time and space—hence the name “Heaven’s Mutation.”

Now, that place was slightly visible, though still blurry. Yet Shi Hao could confirm that it was someone he should have recognized—an old acquaintance.

*”Huang, my brother, may your soul return! With your talent, capable of swallowing past and present, how could you be gone…?”*

The Daoist priest wept bitterly. His loose Daoist robe was woven from threads of several immortal metals, an unparalleled treasure, yet now it was torn and stained with blood.

Clearly, he had endured a brutal battle—otherwise, how could such peerless immortal armor have been shredded?

*”Who could stop you? Who could harm you? On the path to immortality, your words remain etched. Across the realms, your name is still chanted. With a single sword strike, you severed eternity—where are you now?”* Though an unimaginably powerful figure, wreathed in dense immortal energy, he sobbed in sorrow, his grief shaking the river until its waves surged violently.

*”Wuuu…”* The mournful cries carried deep emotion, filled with the regrets of ages, the bitterness of loss, and sorrow for a departed friend.

*”So many ancient lands, so vast the wilderness—yet I have not given up. Even if I must dig through every forbidden ground, unearth every ancient tomb, I will find you!”* he muttered.

Shi Hao shuddered. If he really was dead, it seemed he wouldn’t rest in peace!

Yet, his heart also ached with a bittersweet pang. Had he truly passed away? Someone was searching for him like this, hoping he still lived.

*”Master, we’ve already dug through some of the ancient cursed tombs from epochs ago. Continuing like this isn’t the way. That person vanished too long ago—there’s no trace, no way to find where he might be buried.”* someone advised.

Shi Hao was startled, for he saw no one else—only the blurry figure of the fat Daoist weeping.

*”Heaven’s Mutation has torn the river of time, but not everyone can manifest visibly unless their power shakes the ages!”* the female Burial Knight said.

*”Master, we must go. The enemies are coming. We must fight, not linger in the past.”* the voice urged.

*”What do you know? If my brother still lived, many things… Do you know of the darkest era in history? The great reckoning across epochs? You—you know nothing!”* The Daoist, brimming with immortal energy and peerless might, scolded his disciple in a tone utterly unbefitting of a lofty master.

*”Master, you don’t know either! That era was too chaotic. No one in later ages can explain it clearly—it’s all hearsay. Some say someone raised phoenixes like chickens, waiting daily for eggs. Others speak of corpses drifting through epochs in the cosmos, or burial lords sealed in broken jars underground. There’s talk of ancient monsters slumbering in immortal refining cauldrons, or invincible beings from two epochs ago, their bodies split into six parts, each sealed in six immortal herbs. Some mention a terrifying realm as vast as the Immortal Domain, or a shore across the sea that demands immortals abandon everything to reach. Even after death, flesh turning into immortal butterflies, wandering realms, their obsessions unbroken, drifting through the river of time. And in the primordial temple of the earliest era, a figure who sat motionless for eons finally opened their eyes…”*

The disciple rattled off countless tales before pausing to catch his breath.

*”Any one of these, if true, would be unbelievable. Can any of it be trusted? And worst of all, Master, you claim these are but ripples in that dark era—that the true cataclysms were a hundred, a thousand times worse! I… I can’t even imagine it!”*

*”You dare doubt me, you ungrateful brat?!”* The Daoist smacked the disciple’s head with a loud *thwack*.

*”Of all those legends, only the Three-Life Copper Coffin remains as physical proof. And An Lan and Yu Tuo are known. The rest? No evidence!”*

*”Let me tell you—the true ancient history was far worse than that. That era defied all comprehension.”* The Daoist sighed.

*”Master, you only heard the legends. You didn’t live through it. How can you be so sure?”* the disciple retorted.

*”I was already born in that era! Do you think I didn’t witness it?!”* the fat Daoist snapped.

*”Pfft. Master, don’t think I don’t know.”* The disciple, though scolded, wasn’t particularly afraid. He smirked and muttered, *”I’ve heard your body is ancient, but back then, you were already buried. You never saw that darkest, most chaotic age.”*

*”Nonsense! I roamed heaven and earth—who could bury me? Though young, I fought in that time!”* The Daoist glared.

*”I heard you were dug up from the underworld, that you never experienced those events. You slept, your body underwent corpse transformation, outlasting all rivals over eons until you emerged victorious and became immortal.”* The disciple whispered.

*Thwack!* Another smack to the head. *”I shake the ages with my cultivation, far beyond your understanding!”*

*”Master… are you still you? I mean, are you still the you from Huang’s era? Surely not. Why this obsession to find that old friend?”* The disciple sighed, troubled by his master’s sorrow.

*”Yes… and no. You don’t understand. You think I was just dug up from the underworld? I’ve been battling through reincarnation—my will has fought for nine lives, ten, or more. I’ve seen ages beyond imagination. That’s why I say that dark era was real, though I only glimpsed a fragment.”*

With that, the Daoist snapped out of his reverie and smacked the disciple again. *”Keep digging!”*

*”Still digging?!”* the disciple wailed.

*”Dig through the world! That’s how I attained the Dao! I suspect one day, digging into the ultimate ancient tomb will be like piercing paper—suddenly revealing a vast, vibrant realm, an ocean of immortal energy connecting this broken land!”* the Daoist barked.

*”Master, the enemies are here!”* The disciple tensed.

The fat Daoist shed all playfulness, his gaze sharp as he stared into the distance. *”Prepare for battle!”*

Though an unparalleled expert, his battle robes were torn, his body bloodied—proof of his foes’ terrifying power.

*”Fine! Let’s fight to the end!”* the disciple growled, heartened by his master’s resolve.

*”Good. Fight to the end—and dig it all up!”* the Daoist declared.

*”Dig?!”*

*”Obviously! I dug my way to the Dao. We’ll dig out their ancestral graves first!”* the Daoist said gravely.

The disciple deflated, having expected a heroic charge.

*”Let’s move. If they dare oppose me, I’ll dig up their ancestors!”* The Daoist vanished with his disciple.

The disciple knew retreat was wise against such foes, but his master’s grave-robbing antics left him speechless—no wonder he had such an unsavory title.

Yet he understood—the world was too cruel.

A gust of wind stirred the chaotic mist!

A group of figures flashed past, vanishing in pursuit.

At the horizon, Shi Hao stood frozen, silent. Was that illusion or reality?

*”Cao Yuzi!”* he uttered. That fat Daoist resembled Cao Yuzi—one middle-aged, the other youthful.

*”Was what he said true?”* Shi Hao clenched his fists. It involved too much, a glimpse of an epoch-spanning storm.

*”It… must be true.”* The female Burial Knight whispered, her white wings fluttering as she gazed where the figures had vanished.

But the river of time severed all.

*”Why didn’t he see me?”* Shi Hao asked.

*”Heaven’s Mutation is too complex, too profound. No one can explain it. Often, we witness it here, but the other side may not.”*

Earlier, the disciple hadn’t manifested—only the Daoist weeping by a tomb.

*”Cao Yuzi…!”* Shi Hao roared across the river, trying to summon him back.

*”Who can tell me what happened?!”*

*”Whoosh!”*

Suddenly, a figure emerged on the opposite bank, shrouded in immortal mist—powerful, indistinct.

The fat Daoist had returned!

*”Strange… I heard someone call my past name.”* he murmured.

*”Fatty Cao! Cao Yuzi!”* Shi Hao bellowed, his voice thunderous, shaking the sacred burial grounds.

*”Hmm?”* The bloodied Daoist frowned, his pupils contracting. *”Could it be… a door?”*

Abruptly, his body blazed with immortal light, piercing the ancient river as he gazed over.

He saw.

In that instant, flesh regrew on Shi Hao’s skeletal frame.

The Daoist trembled, thunderstruck. Tears welled in his eyes as he stared.

*”Huang… is it you? You’re… still here? Alive?!”* His voice was a choked growl.

But then, unable to hold back, he let out a heart-wrenching cry, collapsing onto a tomb, tears streaming as he looked at Shi Hao.

From his banter with his disciple, he seemed irreverent, even comical. Yet now he wept, his sorrow unimaginable.

*”Tell me, what happened?”* Shi Hao shouted.

The Daoist’s lips moved, but celestial thunder struck him, charring his body. Shi Hao heard nothing.

The Daoist sighed, closing his mouth.

*”Why?!”* Shi Hao’s fists clenched.

*”Because your words involve pivotal truths—ones that could ripple through eternity, altering the river of time. Thus, they’re blocked, inviting divine retribution!”* The Burial Knight trembled, awestruck by what she’d witnessed.

The Daoist endured the punishment but didn’t retreat, gritting his teeth against the immortal lightning.

Shi Hao dared not ask more, fearing greater calamity for him.

*”Are we separated by space… or time?”* he wondered.

Then, to the Daoist: *”Are you… alright?”*

These words held no grand implications, inviting no disaster.

The Daoist: *”Before immortality? Not bad. Just got bitten by dogs a lot. After? Never expected…”*