Chapter 45
"This city has never fallen into human hands," Huan Zheng said suddenly, his languid eyes sweeping the surroundings with a vigilance that never truly slept, "not because its defenses are the strongest, Liu Xin. But because its location is the most concealed. It exists between space and time, within folds of reality unreachable by human warships or their Qi networks."
Amid the bustling eternal market of the fifth sky city, among offers of beauty elixirs from a butterfly-winged goddess and exhibitions of ancient weapons from a stag-horned deity, Ling Xu overheard whispers from a group of cultivators seated at a roadside teahouse.
Whispers about a prestigious battle whose very name made the hairs on his neck stand on end, a battle called the Liturgy of a Thousand Years of Blood.
"Once every 44 years," one of them said, his voice filled with a reverence that needed no pretense, as it had flowed in his blood since birth, "and the 155th Liturgy was held exactly 44 years ago. That means next year, brothers, we will once again witness the holiest bloodshed in the boundless universe."
Hearing that, Ling Xu turned toward Huan Zheng with questioning brows, but the lazy man beside him merely shrugged and yawned—though within his half-lidded eyes flickered a clear recognition that he knew exactly what the cultivators were discussing, that the Liturgy of a Thousand Years of Blood was not merely an ordinary tournament, but an ancient ritual involving dozens of renowned sects and thousands of smaller sects thriving under the fifth sky city, a one-on-one battle where the spilled blood would become offerings to the fallen Gods of the Harmony Conflict, and the victor would earn the right to enter sacred places normally closed to all except the highest elders.
"But we don't have time for the Liturgy, Liu Xin," Huan Zheng said as they left the teahouse, his voice no longer lazy but heavy, like a stone dropped into a bottomless well, his eyes fixed straight ahead toward the floating palace complex surrounded by seven layers of light walls, where beyond those walls, in the innermost space untouched by anyone except the Supreme Gods, lay meditation chambers of unquestionable security—places where they could transform from Anti-Star Heavenly Longitude cultivators into beings stepping into the Vast Cosmos, a realm whose very name made even the Old Gods tremble as they recalled the traumas of their reign.
"We need to find a safe place," he continued, and when they finally arrived at the foot of the floating palace, after passing through seven layers of light walls—each requiring three days to traverse due to their absurd thickness—Huan Zheng stopped before a stone door devoid of carvings or inscriptions, a blank slab pulsing with the same rhythm as the heartbeat of the universe, like a door to a womb not yet ready to give birth, like a gate to a death that never truly dies.
"This is where we will meditate," he said, his voice almost a whisper, and when he touched the stone surface with his fingertips, the door opened with a sound like thousands of stained-glass windows shattering simultaneously before reassembling into the same window—a sound identical to when he tore through time in Wuji Cheng four months ago, but this time, the sound did not only affect the time around them, but the entire boundless universe, as if this door were the center of all centers, the axis of every rotating reality.
Inside the silent and dark meditation chamber, where light dared not enter for fear of a darkness older than itself, Huan Zheng sat cross-legged three steps before Ling Xu, his previously languid eyes now fully open, and within those wide-open eyes, Ling Xu saw stars—not one or two or a thousand, but billions scattered across an endless night sky, as though Huan Zheng's eyes were a window into the entire boundless universe, and through that window, Ling Xu could see everything that had happened, everything that was happening, and everything that would happen, within a single blink that felt like a century.
"The Vast Cosmos realm, Liu Xin," Huan Zheng said, his voice no longer lazy or flat, but deep and heavy, like a rumble restrained behind a mountain ready to erupt at any moment, "is not like the previous realms. Here, there are no Latitudes, no Longitudes, no fragments to gather or refine. There are only Falling Crystals. One, two, three, up to ten. 10 Vast Cosmos Falling Crystals—that is the peak of all peaks, the limit of all limits, the end of all ends that never truly ends, because beyond ten, there is still something higher than ten, but that is a story for another time."
He raised his hand, and at his fingertips, a golden light began to pulse.
Not a gentle light like when he helped Ling Xu reach the Supernatural Star, but a harsh, sharp, hungry light, like a sun about to explode at the edge of time, like death waiting at the end of the road without ever rushing, because it knows that in the end, all will come to it—none can escape.
"But before we leap into that realm, Liu Xin, remember this—we are still in the Heavenly Longitude. We are still in Anti-Star. We still possess 9,999 Longitude that we have perfected, but have not yet used to step through the next gate."
Huan Zheng took a deep breath—a breath that felt like swallowing an ocean, a breath that felt like preparing to dive into depths he had never imagined before—then continued in a near whisper, like wind murmuring through dry leaves before a storm arrives.
"To become a Vast Cosmos cultivator, Liu Xin, you must undergo the Trial of Concealment Within Corpses. Not an ordinary trial you can prepare for with training, elixirs, or strategy. This is a trial where you will die—not once, but ten times. Ten deaths you must experience, ten ends you must pass through, ten corpses you must leave behind before you can truly live."
He pressed his own chest, right where the 9,999 Longitude pulsed softly, then added in a voice that suddenly softened, more careful, like a man explaining to his lover that not all dreams are beautiful, that not all journeys are safe, that sometimes, to achieve something truly worthwhile, you must first be willing to lose everything.
In that silent and dark meditation chamber, after the words about ten deaths lingered in the air like a mist that never fully dissipated, Huan Zheng exhaled again—a breath that sounded different this time.
Not the breath of someone preparing to dive, but the breath of someone about to open a treasure chest long sealed in the darkest corner of his memory.
To be continued…