Chapter 686: Final (1)

The figure's face was a blur. Whether the Mirror was misted with clouds or stained with condensation, the face reflected within was completely indiscernible.

But when He turned around, it became clear that His actual face was just as impossible to see.

It was as if veiled by a layer of blinding light.

"Just what is his background..." the figure muttered.

He stood, walked over to the bed in the corner, and threw Himself heavily onto it.

"Thump!"

The impact kicked up a cloud of dust from the sheets.

Gray motes danced in the air.

He lay amid the dust, His gaze complex, the emotions in His eyes shifting constantly.

Lost, angry, sorrowful, joyful... before finally settling into a vicious glare.

"He wants to kill me!" the figure murmured.

"He wants to kill me, he wants to kill me..."

"On what grounds?! What the hell is he? What right does he have to kill me?"

"I refuse to accept this. I refuse..."

He stood up and took a deep breath, inhaling a mouthful of dust, before sitting back down in front of the Mirror.

He reached out and gently touched the glass. Lines of text surfaced on the Mirror.

"If assistance is required, you may send your coordinates to the Clan."

"If assistance is required, you may send your coordinates to the Clan."

"If assistance is required, you may send your coordinates to the Clan."

Every month, this exact line would pop up.

To date, more than 120,000 lines of text had accumulated on the Mirror.

Yes.

He had been stuck here for ten thousand years.

He had been chased here by an enemy all those years ago.

His opponent had been overwhelmingly powerful, an unparalleled prodigy across the Heavens and Myriad Worlds. Even with the advantage of a higher cultivation realm, He had been exhausted just trying to fend him off, utterly unable to fight back.

In the end, that man had smashed Him into this Domain with a single punch.

He hadn't died. The man had overlooked this bizarre Domain and failed to uncover His trail.

Giving Him a sliver of a chance to survive.

Yes, "bizarre."

Even though His power level far exceeded ninety-nine percent of the entities in this Domain, He still felt that way.

This Domain was absolutely not simple. Not just because of its incredibly long history, but because it held zero trace of any outsiders.

Except for Him.

That was practically impossible.

The Heavens and Myriad Worlds had long since entered an era of massive expansion. Forget an entirely unexploited Domain like this—even a well tainted with supernatural Qi would have some minor faction rushing to claim it.

Not to mention, this Domain possessed two naturally birthed earth spirits.

He simply couldn't believe a Domain like this had never been searched or scouted.

But...

The truth was that He had scoured the entire Domain and found absolutely no sign of an outsider.

It was a small detail.

Yet it said a lot.

This place was absolutely not simple.

Even after staying here for ten thousand years, He still believed that.

And now, Yan Jing's appearance had proven it.

For an unranked, ordinary person in this Domain to break through to the Desolate Origin Realm...

If word of this got out, it would sound like a pure fairy tale.

In any other Domain, draining the entire realm dry wouldn't be enough to supply the resources for a single Desolate Origin Realm expert.

Let alone the fact that the man before Him was clearly no ordinary Desolate Origin Realm cultivator.

He could feel it—if He were at the same cultivation level as His opponent, He would likely be crushed effortlessly.

This made Him increasingly uneasy, prompting Him to activate the Mirror in front of Him.

It was left to Him by the Clan.

As long as He channeled His blood and Qi into it, He could receive backup from the Clan's dispatched elders.

And given His status, it was very likely two of them would come.

But He didn't want to use this Mirror.

In the Clan's view, this was an item only the weak would resort to.

Unless they were one of the core descendants, anyone else who used this Mirror would face everyone's contempt upon returning to the Clan.

Their standing within the Family would instantly plummet by several tiers.

Secondly, even if He used the Mirror, salvation wasn't guaranteed. The Mirror's signal couldn't be transmitted directly back to the Family.

Instead, it went straight into the hands of the Family's dispatched elders.

Instances of dispatched elders murdering Family children and fleeing were not unheard of.

This was exactly why the Family didn't assign dispatched elders to core descendants, relying strictly on internal elders instead.

But...

Now seemed to be a critical time.

The opponent was strong.

Unusually strong.

If He fought him, He would definitely win.

But He would get hurt again.

And it would definitely be worse than the injury from thousands of years ago.

Which meant the time He would have to stay trapped in this Domain would be extended indefinitely.

Ten thousand years? Twenty thousand years?

Maybe even longer.

He was tired.

Failing to claim this Domain for Himself after so many years had left Him thoroughly exhausted.

If the resources in this Domain hadn't been sufficient for His needs, He probably would have left long ago.

"The opponent is strong. I cannot be careless,"

He said softly, speaking only to Himself.

Compared to the enemy He faced, dignity didn't seem so important.

He was truly tired.

Living in this world sometimes came down to sheer fate.

For example, He had exhausted Himself for a lifetime and was still stuck in the Desolate Origin Realm, unable to break through even the Third Layer.

Meanwhile, His opponent had broken through to the Desolate Origin Realm right under His nose.

The enemy's luck was clearly much better than His.

"The opponent is strong. I cannot be careless,"

He repeated, psyching Himself up.

Then, He reached out and tapped the Mirror.

"Hum—"

Ripples spread across the Mirror's surface as rings of blood-red marks expanded outward, signaling that His message had been successfully transmitted.

Soon, the blood-red ripples vanished. The over one hundred thousand lines of accumulated text on the Mirror were finally completely erased, replaced by a brand-new line.

"Received. We are on our way. Please hold on."

"Estimated time: two space-time days."

Two space-time days...

He stared at the unit of measurement, momentarily choked speechless.

If roughly converted, that was equivalent to twenty-four days in this world.

Twenty-four days...

That was about how long it took for a chick to grow into a hen.

"Forget it."

He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as He muttered:

"As long as they get here."

He was genuinely tired. Even the most aloof heavenly prodigy would lose to time; even the most terrifying willpower would be ground down by ten thousand years of torment.

Right now, He only wanted to go home and get a good sleep; He desired nothing else.

So, the moment a knock sounded at the door, He froze for a second before sitting up from the bed.

Looking through the peephole, He spotted His opponent standing outside.

"So fast..."

He found it hard to believe.

In the next instant, He summoned His true origin—a towering, muscular man draped in a white robe.

Once the burly man donned a set of armor, the figure standing in the room became a silhouette intimately familiar to the Deities of the outside world.

If the Messenger were here, seeing this burly man's current appearance would undoubtedly make him cry out.

"The Firmament Envoy! The Deity Killer!"

Yes, the strongest Firmament Envoy.

Was actually just the Firmament Himself in disguise.

He had no choice. He couldn't come out to fight every single day. For one, it would expose His trump cards; for another, if He were injured, things would get extremely troublesome.

So even when His true body did appear, He would darken the entire sky.

His origin form would slaughter the pawns, while He personally dealt with the foolish generals.

That was just how it was.

"What a pain!"

Looking at the figure outside the door, He couldn't help but curse under His breath.

If He weren't currently injured, He would have loved nothing more than to march right out there and hack His opponent into ten thousand pieces.

But...

Facing the man now, He could only test the waters.

He was uncertain.

Not uncertain about winning—He just really didn't want to get hurt.

Especially before the Clan's elders arrived.

Soon, His origin form, clad in grayish-white armor, pushed open the door.

From the outside, it looked as if the empty midair had suddenly torn open a rift.

Then, the sky dimmed and all things grew gloomy as an awe-inspiring entity garbed in grayish-white armor materialized in everyone's line of sight.

"You're looking for me."

The Firmament Envoy was indeed incredibly intimidating. The moment he spoke, the Deities below didn't even dare breathe too loudly.

As mighty as Deities were, when facing an even greater existence, they were no different from dogs forced to watch their master's mood.

Though they couldn't be blamed.

They hadn't expected Yan Jing to march right up and knock on the Firmament's door immediately after suppressing the crowd and exchanging a few words.

It was as casual as knocking on a neighbor's door while passing by.

There was no preparation, nor was there any hesitation.

And the suffocating pressure brought by the appearance of the strongest Firmament Envoy left them too terrified to even lift their heads.

But Yan Jing just smiled and reached out a hand:

"I Create."

The Deities' hearts leaped into their throats.

This phrasing again.

Hearing this phrasing now gave them a bit of PTSD.

Could the opponent withstand it?

"A world without you."

"Schwing!!!!"

The exact moment Yan Jing's words fell, a flash of blade light erupted. It was like a ray of heavenly light sprinting from afar, sweeping across the expanse and leaving behind a massive rift.

That blade light was fast.

Faster than the sound everyone heard, perhaps even faster than light itself.

A trail of blood bloomed across Yan Jing's chest. A hand-sized gash slanted down from his upper right shoulder, carving all the way across his torso.

Dark golden blood beaded like pearls, tumbling down toward the endless earth below.

he hadn't dodged it either.

Perhaps he could have dodged it, but he hadn't.

The Deities widened their eyes, looking over at the strongest Firmament Envoy.

The boundary realm Yan Jing had just conjured around him shattered directly into fragments.

The Envoy stepped out from within and rolled his shoulders, as if shaking off some kind of trash.

"So the Firmament Envoy is actually this strong!"

Someone gasped, utterly disbelieving.

Yan Jing already felt like an existence a full dimension above them.

Yet now, the Firmament Envoy had managed to wound Yan Jing, all while appearing completely unscathed himself.

But...

A sharp-eyed entity pointed out something amiss.

"That's not right. The Firmament Envoy is injured."

He pointed at the corner of the Firmament Envoy's mouth. There was a faint red mark there, looking like a smear of blood that had just been wiped away.

"Yes, he bled. It was just wiped clean."

"Shing—"

The very next second, right as the Deities were discussing, the ring of a blade sounded out again.

The Deities drew sharp breaths.

The enemy's blade was far, far faster than sound.

If even they could hear it ringing out, then that meant...

Sure enough, another massive gash erupted across Yan Jing's chest.

This time, it slanted down from his left shoulder.

The two wounds crossed to form a giant "X," looking like a mark used to judge a condemned criminal.

"It's no good, the Firmament Envoy is too fast," someone whispered.

Many nodded in secret agreement.

The Firmament Envoy looked visibly much graver than his earlier, relaxed demeanor. But in turn, the strength he was displaying far surpassed anything he had shown before.

Previously, when fighting some of the Deities who challenged him, he would sometimes even seem evenly matched.

Yet now...

"He's not pretending anymore. He's dropped the act entirely. So all this time, the Firmament was just... baiting."

Someone voiced their observation with extreme caution.

The Firmament couldn't possibly be ignorant of the Firmament Envoy's true power. The only reason he had been feigning weakness was to see who harbored malicious intentions and wanted to make a move against him.

But at that moment, someone else noticed a clue.

"The left corner of the Firmament Envoy's mouth is bleeding too."

At those words, the Deities looked over. Sure enough, there was a faint red mark on the left side of the Firmament Envoy's mouth as well. In fact, it was even darker than the mark on the right.

"But... when did..."

Someone voiced their confusion. While Yan Jing's opening move the first time had been preceded by him saying, "I Create," this time, no one had heard him utter a single word.

Yet the Envoy was injured all the same.

Not only that.

An entity noticed an even deeper anomaly.

"Our eyesight should be more than adequate. How could we fail to notice the blood on the Firmament Envoy's mouth initially every time, only to suddenly see it out of nowhere..."

"That's not right... This, this feels like..."

Entities gradually widened their eyes, staring up at the two figures above the sky. Beside them, someone murmured:

"It's a temporal technique."

Not far away, a giant, grayish-black Rat muttered:

"If time can be applied to a technique, then naturally it can also..."

"...be applied to oneself."

Before the Rat's words finished, Yan Jing's figure in the sky abruptly disintegrated, reappearing a thousand meters behind the Firmament Envoy.

He still bore a wound.

But only one.

The instant the Firmament Envoy launched his second slash, the Yan Jing standing in place had already ceased to be his true body.

And now, a pitch-black spear stretching thousands of meters long materialized in Yan Jing's palm.

He hurled it fiercely at the Firmament Envoy.

"Whoosh—"

"Clang—"

Blade light and spear shadow collided in midair, ringing out like the final note of a prelude before the grand battle truly began.

Following that clash, the Firmament Envoy and Yan Jing turned into two streaks of light, continually slamming into one another and leaving trails of brilliant sparks across the sky.

Wherever the two passed, space shattered. It was as if a painter using the sky as his canvas had flown into a rage and ripped the entire painting to shreds.

Not merely ripped, but crumpled into an absolute mess.

As if throwing a temper tantrum.

Swearing off painting forever.

That was the impression this duel gave the Deities.

The desire to kill each other was present, and so was the anger.

But amidst it all, there was a sense of venting, a reckless, unhinged madness that cared for nothing else.

Both men gave off this exact feeling.

"They are both tired."

An Old Man who looked like a goblin stepped forward.

His pale fur was god-knows-how-many times longer than his dwarfish body, and he radiated a heavy aura of twilight decay.

His Pathway was [Aging].

"They want to end it all, regardless of who wins or loses. I can feel it; they are both harboring that very thought."