The night was desolate, a land of ruins beneath the cold, high-hanging moon. The ground was barren, strewn with rubble and fissures as dark as abysses.
“Have we arrived so quickly?” The people aboard the warship were astonished. It felt as though they had only just begun their journey, even though they had traversed vast distances through the void.
“This isn’t the ancient land yet—just the entrance. We must depart from an altar here,” explained an elder from the Celestial Academy, standing on the deck.
The golden warship glowed in the night, its radiance warm and dazzling, softening the bleak moonlight.
Deep within the ancient land, intricate patterns crisscrossed like living veins, absorbing the essence of the sun and moon. This was a formation—ordinary people would be halted here, unable to advance.
After all, these were remnants of immortal dao. How many in this era could forcefully break through?
Fortunately, the warship carried experts—elders of the Celestial Academy who understood ancient methods and the secrets of these broken formations. They steered the ship past perilous zones, pressing forward.
Finally, they arrived at an altar—ancient and desolate, like a monument recording fragments of history. It carried the weight of time and the sorrow of things long gone.
This was a relic of the ancients, now only to be traced and mourned. Whether glorious or humiliating, it was all irretrievable.
“The entrance is here!” an elder declared.
The altar was colossal, built from rare and mystical stones, its surface weathered and scarred. Though massive, it paled in comparison to the golden warship, which was as vast as an island.
Yet, as the ship descended, everything shifted—stars turned, eras changed, and all things transformed. The warship shrank to the size of a speck of dust, landing upon the altar.
Gasps of shock filled the air.
What kind of beings had this altar been built for? What was its ultimate destination? If even such a massive warship became insignificant as dust upon it, how terrifying must its true purpose be?
“One of the four great altars of antiquity—as mysterious as the one lost in the Black Abyss of the Immortal Ancient Era. Its true function can no longer be restored or demonstrated, for it is now broken,” an elder explained.
Shi Hao’s heart skipped a beat. He recalled the Immortal Ancient ruins he had entered through the petals of immortal dao. There, he had seen a broken altar and the imprint of a three-legged, two-eared cauldron stained with emperor’s blood—something that seemed to hail from the future.
The elders exerted tremendous divine power, nearly exhausting themselves before the altar finally flickered to life—though only partially.
Still, it was enough. The elders made offerings, dripping precious blood upon the altar and setting the coordinates.
**Hum!**
The heavens were pierced in an instant as the golden warship vanished into the sky.
The next moment, everyone aboard was stunned by the sheer speed—space twisted, light blurred, and everything distorted.
Soon, the ship surged into a special spatial tunnel, racing beyond the limits of speed.
The tunnel was faint, translucent, and indistinct. In fleeting glimpses, they saw the flow of time, chaotic and disordered, as if they were crossing the river of time itself.
“Are we heading to the other end of the universe?”
This was an unimaginably long journey. In mere moments, they traversed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of galaxies, arriving at the far reaches of the cosmos.
Everyone’s faces paled. Had they flown this distance themselves, they would never have reached it in their lifetimes.
The distance was absurd—unfathomably vast.
If the golden warship were to malfunction mid-journey, stranding them, they might be lost forever, with no hope of return.
“If this isn’t the altar’s true purpose, what was it originally for?” someone wondered.
They were merely borrowing its power—yet even that was already this extreme.
Time passed, galaxies receded, and still they traveled. Many grew uneasy—the distance was terrifying.
Finally, they heard the roars of gods and demons as they burst out of the translucent tunnel.
Before them floated an island—suspended in the cosmos, ancient and enigmatic. Amidst the boundless sea of stars, there it stood, solitary and eternal.
“This is the Immortal Battlefield,” an elder announced.
The island hung in the void, starkly out of place among the stars.
In the darkness and silence, it was neither a meteor nor a galaxy—just an island, enduring since time immemorial.
At first glance, it seemed small, but as they drew closer, it expanded, exuding an oppressive aura.
Perhaps it could be called a continent, for its size was staggering.
After an unknown length of time, the golden warship approached the island, slowing as if entering a formidable domain.
**Boom!**
The ship glowed, parts of it melting under the strain.
The island was repelling them!
Amidst this, they heard agonized howls—the roars of gods and demons echoing from the distant past.
**Thud!**
Upon landing, the repulsion vanished.
The descent had been too swift to discern the island’s full geography—though its sheer size was the main reason.
This region was barren, the earth a rusty red, strewn with gravel. Desolation was its eternal theme.
“There are living creatures!” someone cried.
They had expected lifelessness, yet already they encountered strange beings.
A creature resembling a rat, covered in red fur and as large as a buffalo, charged at the warship.
**Clang!**
Its fangs struck the golden hull, sparks flying.
The crowd was stunned—this monster was terrifyingly strong!
The golden warship was no ordinary vessel, forged by the elders themselves. Yet this beast had bitten it without being obliterated.
“Be careful. This place is strange—some areas suppress spiritual power,” an elder warned.
“What is this ugly red-furred thing?” a disciple asked.
“Do not underestimate it!” the elder snapped.
He cautioned them—any creature here, even an ant, demanded utmost caution. A single misstep could mean death.
**Whoosh!**
Before the elder could act, the red-furred monster dissolved into crimson mist, vanishing into the earth.
“Huh?” Everyone was baffled.
“Most creatures here are formed from immortal dao’s baleful energy. If they wound you, recovery may be impossible,” an elder warned gravely.
They disembarked, stepping onto the cold earth.
The elders distributed bone talismans—but only to formal disciples. These were life-saving charms, not to be lost.
Shi Hao remained silent. He… received none.
“Heh, just a servant,” Yuan Feng muttered nearby, his tone mocking, his gaze cold.
Wang Xi approached an elder, requesting an extra talisman, but was refused—they were limited.
Yuan Feng smirked. “Better pray we don’t cross paths here. You won’t fare well.”
Shi Hao knew the taunt was for him—subtle yet provoking.
“Go and explore. This ancient battlefield is full of danger—but also boundless opportunities. You may uncover immortal scriptures… or even a divine weapon!”
An elder dismissed them with final warnings.
Wang Xi, Shi Hao, and the others advanced. Some rushed ahead, vanishing into the crimson wasteland.
**”Ah—!”**
A scream erupted nearby—a follower of a prodigy had half his skull bitten off by a red-furred beast.
The sight was gruesome—even his soul was half-devoured!
He struggled, but in moments, his entire head and spirit were consumed.
Shock rippled through the group. They had barely begun, yet death had already struck. How much more horror awaited?
**”Sizzle!”** An elder struck, piercing the beast—but it dispersed into mist, leaving no corpse.
“Listen well—be vigilant. Especially against flesh-and-blood creatures. Falling into their grasp is worse than death.”
The warning was dire, chilling them all.
Shi Hao remained calm. His focus was twofold—evading the horrors of this land, and hunting his enemies.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage