Seeing such a head and the pool of blood beneath it, how could Shi Hao not feel a chill run down his spine? Especially when his own skin had already split open, his bones on the verge of snapping under the pressure. This place exuded a terrifying aura—one that could sever flesh and extinguish souls!
What defined a supreme powerhouse? Even in death, their influence remained profound. Their blood, their bones, even their hair could kill, suffocating the mightiest of later generations!
Shi Hao stood frozen, his mind reeling as he stared at the colossal head. His body cracked, blood seeping from the fissures.
“Is this truly… the Heavenly Horned Ant?” he murmured, as if in a trance.
The ant’s head gleamed with a blinding golden luster, as if forged from immortal metal. Even after countless millennia, it still radiated light—each beam sharp enough to pierce flesh.
The Heavenly Horned Ant, hailed as a supreme being—how could it have met such a gruesome end? Its strength surpassed even that of a True Dragon, yet someone had beheaded it!
A shiver ran down Shi Hao’s spine as he took in the golden blood on the ground, the scattered scales, feathers, and horns in the distance. His heart trembled.
The battle back then must have been utterly devastating!
Had it truly come to this? A mutual annihilation?
The blood here was extraordinary, brimming with astonishing vitality and immortal energy—remnants of beings at the pinnacle of existence.
“Hey, what’s with that look? Did my old man really seem so pitiful to you?” The tiny golden ant, no larger than a fingertip, piped up indignantly.
“You unfilial descendant! Seeing your ancestor fallen here, how can you feel no grief?” Shi Hao pinched it between two fingers and lifted it up.
The golden ant thrashed furiously.
Had it been anyone else, they wouldn’t have been able to hold it so easily. Despite its size, its strength was boundless—enough to snap fingers like twigs.
Yet now, it was trapped in Shi Hao’s grasp, unable to break free, utterly humiliated.
“Let go! If that were really my father’s corpse, do you think I wouldn’t be grieving?” the ant screeched.
Shi Hao paused, then released it.
Still fuming, the tiny ant punched him with all its might. A gale erupted, tearing through the void. The sheer force from something so small was staggering.
“This is just my father’s shed husk, not his true body!” the ant huffed.
Shi Hao was stunned. Ants shed their skin? Like snakes? He’d never heard of such a thing.
But this was the Heavenly Horned Ant—no ordinary insect. Even if it were peculiar, it wouldn’t be surprising. Perhaps the mightiest bug in existence!
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Shi Hao stepped forward, circling the head. To his shock, he found it hollow—merely an outer shell.
“If this isn’t the Heavenly Horned Ant’s true form, then where is the real one?” Shi Hao asked.
“Dead. Utterly annihilated, body and soul,” the ant muttered, its voice heavy with loss rather than sorrow.
According to the ant, the Heavenly Horned Ant had held off countless enemies single-handedly, battling the mightiest foes to the bitter end.
Outnumbered, it slew many of the enemy’s top warriors before succumbing to its wounds, dragging numerous adversaries to their doom in its final moments.
“This lord was truly admirable, fighting to his last breath,” Shi Hao sighed.
The remnants of that ancient battle spoke volumes—rivers of blood, mountains of bones. The Heavenly Horned Ant’s clash with its enemies had shaken the ages!
“He clung to life, lingering until the dawn of this era before finally turning to blood and ash,” the ant whispered.
Shi Hao was stunned. The Heavenly Horned Ant had endured until this era?
Yet its end was tragic—not a peaceful ascension, but a slow, agonizing dissolution into pus and flames before turning to dust.
This was a supreme being who had cultivated the Indestructible Scripture! How could it have come to this?
The answer lay in its wounds—irreversible damage inflicted by the strongest foes of the foreign realm, piercing its vital points and soul.
Tragic. Pitiable.
The Heavenly Horned Ant, peerless in physique and strength, had left not even a trace of its form behind.
From the legends of the Indestructible Scripture, it seemed it hadn’t reached perfection. Otherwise, its end would have been different.
“Truth is, my father could have lived longer, died more peacefully. But he chose to save me instead,” the ant said, tears silently falling.
Though it didn’t wail, the sorrow was palpable—a grief too deep for words.
Long ago, its mother had fallen in battle, its siblings slaughtered. It had still been in its mother’s womb when the fatal blow struck.
The Heavenly Horned Ant lineage was nothing like ordinary ants—its gestation and growth were entirely unique.
Had it not been for its father’s defiance of fate, it would have perished, reduced to ashes.
Even so, it was only by its father’s last reserves of essence that it was reborn, hatched against all odds.
“Did you ever meet him?” Shi Hao asked.
“No. By the time I truly entered this world, he was long gone—reduced to pus, then ash. The old soldiers told me everything,” the ant replied, wiping its tears.
Shi Hao didn’t know how to console it. A father’s love was boundless—even without meeting his child, the Heavenly Horned Ant had given everything to ensure its survival.
Yet Shi Hao couldn’t help but wonder: If the Heavenly Horned Ant had lived into this era, why hadn’t it left behind the Indestructible Scripture?
He voiced his doubt. The ant tilted its head thoughtfully. “Perhaps only one reason: I’m not strong enough yet to inherit it.”
Together, they scoured the area for clues. The allure of the Indestructible Scripture was too great—even Shi Hao couldn’t remain indifferent.
Here, Shi Hao endured excruciating pain, his body drenched in blood under the oppressive aura of this place.
He couldn’t help but marvel—if the Heavenly Horned Ant’s mere husk could exert such pressure, how terrifying would its true form have been?
Of course, it wasn’t just the ant’s remnants. The blood, shattered bones, feathers, and horns of other beings littered the ground, turning this place into a hellish battlefield.
The golden ant, however, remained relatively unaffected, shielded by its father’s lingering presence.
“Is this the power of the Immortal Dao? Even its remnants—most of its force long dissipated—can affect me so profoundly!” Shi Hao sighed.
The lingering resentment and killing intent here were far from benevolent, inflicting wounds upon his body.
They searched every corner but found no trace of the Indestructible Scripture. Frustrated but resigned, Shi Hao turned his attention to the scattered horns and feathers, thinking to collect them for forging.
“Don’t bother. The essence of these relics was already extracted by the old soldiers to temper my body. I was born deficient—this was my remedy,” the ant said.
Shi Hao was speechless. So many divine materials, all rendered useless?
“Only their malevolent aura remains. There’s little left to salvage.” The ant cautiously pointed to a single gray feather. “That one might still be usable. Take it.”
A feather?
Shi Hao’s expression flickered, but he reached for it anyway. Unlike the others, it held no malice, weightless in his grasp.
He waved it lightly—no rift in the void, no surge of power. It was utterly inert.
“Fine. I’ll keep it. I once planned to forge a Five Birds Fan but never got around to it. Maybe this’ll be the final piece,” he muttered.
With no sign of the Indestructible Scripture, Shi Hao found it hard to believe the Heavenly Horned Ant wouldn’t have left it for its child.
“Perhaps I must reach adulthood, grow strong enough to unlock some seal and inherit it,” the ant mused.
“There’s no time. You were born too late. Unless something changes, the foreign realm’s forces will return. We must reach our peak swiftly,” Shi Hao said.
At the mention of the foreign realm, the ant’s eyes turned blood-red, brimming with hatred. Its parents, siblings—all had fallen in that war.
“Can you force a breakthrough? Trigger something?” Shi Hao suggested.
“I’ve tried. But tapping into power beyond my control risks madness. Even the old soldiers can’t approach this place when that happens. No one can,” the ant said gloomily.
“Then let’s try again. I’ll stand guard,” Shi Hao insisted.
“No! You’d be torn apart. Even a Supreme Being couldn’t survive here. The old soldiers, now mere puppets, can’t endure it either.”
“I’ll withdraw my true body, leave only a wisp of divine sense attached to a treasure. It should be safe,” Shi Hao countered.
He produced the Ten Thousand Spirit Diagram from the Primordial True Record—a luminous bone that had once withstood a strike from what might have been the Heavenly Horned Ant’s horn!
After much debate, Shi Hao’s true body retreated, leaving only a strand of his soul anchored to the diagram.
The golden ant’s eyes blazed red as its body erupted in golden flames, swelling rapidly.
**ROAR!**
A deafening bellow shook the heavens. Shi Hao, observing from the diagram, was stunned. The ant, once the size of a bean, now towered like a golden mountain, its aura overwhelming!
With this power, it could rival the likes of Great Xu Tuo or Qi Gu Daoist—terrifying strength for one not yet fully grown.
Was it overdrawing its vitality?
Now berserk, the ant howled, unleashing the Heavenly Horned Ant’s unique aura and savage might.
**BOOM!**
The husk of the head trembled, then erupted with an immortal radiance that swept across the world!
In that instant, every bone, drop of blood, and feather on the ground shattered further. Nothing could withstand this force.
Shi Hao was dumbfounded. What kind of power was this? These were remnants of the Immortal Dao, yet they crumbled like dust!
The golden ripples from the husk spared the ant, but everything else was obliterated.
The Ten Thousand Spirit Diagram glowed, shielding Shi Hao’s soul from annihilation.
He could only be grateful. Had it not been for this bone’s uniqueness, any other defense would have failed.
Then, he beheld an awe-inspiring sight: From the husk emerged the figure of a middle-aged man, towering and majestic, his golden hair cascading like a lion’s mane, eyes sharp as lightning!
Shi Hao’s hair stood on end. Even with the diagram’s protection, he felt paralyzed, his soul freezing under that gaze.
What kind of being was this?
This had to be the Heavenly Horned Ant in human form!
The man was peerlessly heroic, exuding an aura that dominated heaven and earth. His golden hair shimmered, his eyes piercing through the ages.
Around him, endless starfields materialized, as if he stood at the center of the universe.
With every flick of his hair, galaxies crumbled and faded—a sight that left Shi Hao utterly awestruck.
This was the Heavenly Horned Ant? In life, it had been this mighty?
A mere glance could extinguish stars, a breath could shatter worlds!
“This…” Shi Hao could scarcely believe his eyes.
The man’s voice boomed, shaking the void:
“Eons ago, I foresaw your arrival…”
“What?” Shi Hao gasped. How was this possible?
“Had I not, you would not be standing here unharmed,” the Heavenly Horned Ant intoned, his voice both serene and overwhelming.
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