The object was pure white and translucent, as if carved from the finest mutton-fat jade, exuding an aura of primordial chaos and surrounded by layers of sacred radiance. It carried an ancient, archaic energy, with a simple yet profound Dao rhythm flowing through it. Naturally, this left Shi Hao dumbfounded—it was all too familiar, unmistakable no matter what. His mouth hung open in an “O” shape, utterly astonished.
“Little Pagoda, I’ve met your brother!” Shi Hao called out.
The object bore a striking resemblance to the Little Pagoda, undoubtedly of the same origin—crystalline, shimmering, and dazzlingly white, unmistakably divine. Wisps of chaotic energy radiated from it, enveloped by the most intricate Dao runes.
“Quiet!” the Little Pagoda hissed in a low voice, its words transmitted mentally to avoid detection. Both knew the gravity of the situation, especially as the Little Pagoda trembled uncontrollably, a mix of excitement, trepidation, and even fear.
Shi Hao wanted to laugh but couldn’t—the Little Pagoda was deathly serious, feigning lifelessness, suppressing all traces of its aura, terrified of being exposed.
“That… is a part of me I lost long ago,” came the Little Pagoda’s despondent voice. Its form dimmed, turning into an ordinary-looking stone, as if erased from existence.
Currently, the Little Pagoda had four layers, its luster completely gone, reduced to mundanity. Meanwhile, the pagoda fragment in the sky had two layers, radiant and pristine, gleaming like a holy sun suspended in the heavens, wrapped in chains of divine runes.
Shi Hao fell silent, his earlier amusement replaced by solemnity. What kind of divine might was this? The Little Pagoda had once been broken—what did the reappearance of these two layers signify? Why didn’t the Little Pagoda dare to reclaim them?
The two-layered fragment wasn’t small—it loomed like a mountain, its white light piercing through the heavens and earth. With a resonant hum, it trembled slightly, releasing countless runes that spread outward, destabilizing the very fabric of space. The entire Desolate Region seemed on the verge of collapse.
Yet, it harmed no one. It was searching, sweeping, as if seeking something.
“This… With just a slight tremor, it feels like the heavens are being split apart. Is this the Little Pagoda’s true power?” Shi Hao shuddered. The Little Pagoda had always been unassuming, but these two layers revealed a fraction of its might.
Why had no one descended from the Upper Realm, yet two artifacts—one complete, one fragmented—appeared? What was the reason? Shi Hao couldn’t fathom it.
At this moment, not just him, but every cultivator in the world was tense, staring at the sky, uncertain of what changes would come. Many silently meditated, sensing the thickening Dao rhythm in the air, grasping at newfound insights.
**BOOM!**
A deafening roar shook the heavens and earth, as if the world would overturn. From the inverted volcanic crater descended another object, wreathed in chaotic energy, sending chills down everyone’s spines.
It was another artifact, but severely damaged—two-thirds of it missing. Only a small portion remained, shrouded in misty chaos, exuding an unfathomable mystery.
Shaped like a divine disc, it was inscribed with strange runes that swirled around it, as if capable of reversing the cosmos, pulling the sun, moon, stars, and all living things into the cycle of reincarnation.
“That thing!” Shi Hao’s eyelids twitched. He recognized it—he had seen it in the Void God Realm, even clashed with it.
The mysterious man wreathed in flames, who had once declared his intent to claim the Lunar Grace Goddess as his own and battled Shi Hao, had wielded such a chaotic divine disc.
This wasn’t the same disc, but another fragment—one that had descended from the Upper Realm.
The moment the broken disc appeared, the world changed. Every mind trembled violently, as if being dragged into reincarnation.
People clearly understood what was happening—and it horrified them.
Time cycled, the world shifted, and in an instant, countless beings felt as though they had lived through multiple lifetimes.
How terrifying! Shi Hao sighed inwardly. Even he nearly lost his composure, a sense of dread creeping into his heart. Yet, he resisted not, blending in with the crowd, his gaze distant, his consciousness hazy.
Only three artifacts, yet they shook the world!
The sky cracked, the three objects trembling, their ripples intertwining and spreading outward, as if sealing the entire Desolate Region in stasis.
**Heavenly Calamity!**
This was no ordinary upheaval—most couldn’t fathom its purpose, but Shi Hao had an inkling. This wasn’t aimed at them.
It was a divine probe.
The Little Pagoda remained hidden, silent—proof enough. The three artifacts in the sky were transcendent existences, scouring this realm.
The sensation was unbearable—like a divine sword hanging overhead, ready to fall at any moment, bringing eternal ruin.
The Great Calamity had arrived, and it was terrifying, fraught with peril. If the Little Pagoda were discovered, disaster would surely follow, and Shi Hao would be dragged into it.
**DONG—**
A deep bell tolled, its ripples resonating with the Great Dao, solemn and sacred, as if reciting an ancient scripture.
Shi Hao knew—it was meant to suppress deities!
The two-layered white pagoda and the broken chaotic disc also unleashed their divine might, shrouding the heavens. This was a sweeping probe, a crude elimination.
No one knew how long it lasted before the runes finally receded, the artifacts still hovering in the sky.
Only then did the Little Pagoda hidden in Shi Hao’s hair let out a muffled cry:
“What kind of calamity is this?”
Without warning, the World Box Shi Hao possessed materialized, its bronze surface glowing before opening. The Little Pagoda rushed inside, sealing itself away.
“No living beings descended, yet three supreme artifacts appeared. This is even more unsettling. I must hide, enter slumber, erase all traces. Do not disturb me.”
“Wait—can you explain? Tell me what’s happening!” Shi Hao pressed.
“No beings descended, yet the Great Calamity is here. It’s different—it’s about to begin!” The Little Pagoda’s voice vanished.
**BOOM!**
Suddenly, the heavens quaked, the earth trembled—the entire Desolate Region shook.
“The Great Calamity has begun!”
A voice echoed, whether from the three artifacts or the volcanic crater, none could tell.
Shi Hao’s hair stood on end. Had he been reckless, leaving Stone Village alone? This wasn’t like past calamities—something was off.
Faintly, the three artifacts separated, each dominating a direction, confronting one another. Did they represent three opposing Dao lineages descending upon the world?
With a deafening roar, the three artifacts blurred, and in broad daylight, the sky transformed—stars appeared, vivid and immense, spinning as if within arm’s reach.
**Daylight Stars—**an ominous, monstrous celestial phenomenon. Legends said its appearance heralded mass death, the start of a cataclysmic tribulation.
“Could this not be man-made, but a naturally occurring calamity?” Shi Hao wondered.
The next moment, his eyes widened in shock—not just him, but countless cultivators paled in terror.
The world darkened instantly. Bloodlight surged into the heavens as the stars—every single one—began to fall, crashing toward the earth with thunderous roars.
**Was this the end of the world?**
Despair gripped all. How could mortals resist? Even resurrected gods might not withstand this.
The descending stars roared like the Ten Ancient Fears, their shadows vast, flames endless, streaking down from the void.
The heat, the pressure—it was unbearable. The land would be shattered, utterly annihilated.
In ancient times, supreme beings had split stars to forge weapons, but this was different—this was doomsday.
Shi Hao’s scalp tingled. He had never imagined such a scene. How could this happen?
No one could resist.
His heart pounded—amidst the terror, fury burned. This was extermination, with no hope of survival.
And yet—who could command such power? Summoning stars to rain down? Even in legends, no such being existed.
“One chance—ascend! Flee beyond this realm!”
Gritting his teeth, Shi Hao shot skyward, racing toward the falling stars.
His speed reached its peak, leaving the earth behind, hoping to escape—though the odds were near zero, he refused to yield.
Yet, mid-flight, horror struck—many others had the same idea, all extraordinary figures.
He saw a revered expert—a crimson-scaled Flood Dragon, roaring skyward in defiance, fleeing toward the void.
Cornered, unwilling to die like this.
But then—
**SHACKLE!**
A massive chain of order materialized from nowhere, binding the Flood Dragon instantly.
Elsewhere, a furious roar—a golden Bixi, tiger-like with draconic horns, unleashed its strongest technique against the void.
Useless. Another chain descended, capturing it effortlessly.
Shi Hao’s blood ran cold. Escape was impossible. The moment one took flight, these chains of law seized them.
**Was this realm doomed?**
Fury and helplessness clashed within him.
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