Chapter 752 - Old Friends Within the Deathless Tomb Begin to Wake, Regrets Resolved, Fading from the Mortal World - Part 1

Eastern Sea.

Crash... Whoosh... BOOM!

The rain had merely paused for breath before the sky opened again with thunder and wind, pouring down in sheets and drowning the world in a violent deluge. Nature raged with abandon, scrubbing everything in its path.

Waves heaved and pitched across the open sea.

Yin Zhongliang, a seasoned fisherman of the Eastern Sea, was scrambling to haul in the last of the sails. As he turned to head below deck, the entire boat lurched wildly in all directions. He staggered, nearly slipping overboard as the slick deck betrayed his footing. With a panicked cry, he grabbed the doorframe just in time. Gritting his teeth, he hauled himself upright and squeezed into the cabin.

Inside was his crewmate, Zhang Hai, crouched low, shielding the tiny flame of their lantern. But as Yin Zhongliang burst in, a gust of sea wind followed him through the door and snuffed out the fragile light.

Darkness swallowed the cabin.

Outside, the world was no less black.

Gasping for breath, Yin Zhongliang’s voice barely rose above the howling storm outside. He shouted, but the wind devoured his words.

Zhang Hai had to bellow to be heard.

“Old Yin, it’s only June! How the hell can there be a storm this big?! The sea—”

His words were lost under the roar of waves.

“What?! I can’t hear you!”

“The Sea Dragon King is angry!” Yin Zhongliang yelled back.

“...” Zhang Hai fell silent. He turned his head toward the curtain, peering out at the endless black sea. The water writhed like some ancient, colossal beast, hidden just beneath the surface.

The only sounds were wind and the thunder’s relentless drumbeat.

Zhang Hai’s face had gone pale. He pressed tightly against the cabin wall to keep his balance. Cold sweat drenched his back, and though he was trapped in a storm, it wasn’t the wind that chilled him. It was the dread coiled deep in his chest, tightening with every breath.

Even Yin Zhongliang, hardened by years on these waters, stood rigid with unease. His eyes darted about, tracking the rise and fall of the ship beneath his feet.

Every passing second dragged like an eternity.

Suddenly, Zhang Hai’s teeth began to chatter, and a strangled cry burst from his chest.

“A dragon! There’s a dragon... B-beneath the sea!”

He couldn’t even form full sentences.

Yin Zhongliang’s eyes snapped wide as he scanned the shadows.

Then, with a thunderous blast, the cabin curtain was ripped open by the storm. Fish leapt from their baskets, scattering everywhere...in the cabin, on the deck, flapping wildly and slapping against the wooden floor in chaotic bursts of sound. Many were flung clear overboard, lost to the sea.

But Yin Zhongliang didn’t even spare them a glance. He wasn’t thinking about the catch anymore.

In fact, in that moment, he forgot to be afraid.

Because in the depths beyond the veil of rain, just below their boat, he could see it. It was a long, dark, serpentine shape, coiling and gliding through the deep.

Something ancient was stirring beneath the waves.

That thing was no fish. And it definitely wasn’t some kind of sea beast.

“Oh my god...” Yin Zhongliang muttered, voice trembling with fear.

He turned toward his crewmate.

Though he couldn’t make out Zhang Hai’s face in the dark, he could imagine all too clearly the look of despair in his eyes.

Because in that moment, Yin Zhongliang felt it too, that hopeless, sinking dread.

But then...nothing happened.

The moment he’d been bracing for never came.

Instead, from the distant depths of the sea came a clear, melodic sound, like polished gemstones clinking softly against each other.

Through the tattered curtain, Yin Zhongliang could just barely make out a figure approaching across the waves. Whoever it was held a long staff, and at its top hung strands of dangling beads, their delicate chimes ringing through the night.

Moments later, unbelievably, the storm began to fade. The fishing boat surged through the final wall of rain. And then the sea was calm. Above, a pale moon poured silver light onto the waves.

Yin Zhongliang and Zhang Hai rushed out of the cabin and froze at the sight before them.

Bathed in moonlight, a figure in gray robes walked steadily along the surface of the sea, staff in hand. Behind them, the monstrous shadow from the deep followed closely, docile as a well-trained sheepdog.

The two fishermen dropped to their knees on the deck and kowtowed repeatedly, overwhelmed by awe.

From that day forward, stories of a sea god began to spread along the coast.

And as time went on, those tales would be woven into the old legends of the mountain gods too.

Yan Yu’s soul fragment walked calmly across the waves, each step stirring a ripple that spread gently outward before fading into nothing.

Only after leading the monster far from the storm zone did she reach for the gourd at her waist. Unstopping it, she pointed the mouth of the gourd at the sea beneath her feet.

From the depths, the black monstrosity burst to the surface, revealing its full form.

It had a human face and a serpent’s body.

The creature writhed and thrashed, but within seconds it was sucked entirely into the gourd, vanishing with a hiss.

Yan Yu finally let out a long breath.

Not far off, another figure appeared, clad in dark robes.

It was Li Yuan.

He approached with an open palm, and from thin air emerged several strange, misshapen beasts. They were feral, unnatural things he had sealed within his personal mini world. Now, they too would be transferred into the gourd’s more stable interior.

Yan Yu held the gourd steady and absorbed them one by one.

Once they’d finished their work, Yan Yu wiped the sweat from her brow and muttered, “The corruption from the Four Symbols is worse than I thought. Some of these things evolve way too fast.”

“You ran into one?” Li Yuan asked, surprised.

On his way here, most of the sea beasts he’d encountered had been odd-looking but otherwise manageable. Dangerous, sure, but nothing above fifth rank in strength.

Yan Yu’s soul fragment gestured at the gourd. “Go take a look yourself. The one with the human face and snake body.”

Li Yuan’s expression flickered at the description. After a pause, he nodded solemnly.

Ever since he’d returned to the mortal world, armed with knowledge of the future from Yan Yu’s true form, he’d been helping her other self capture and seal the scattered remnants of the Four Symbols’ corruption that had strayed too close to human lands.

The incident in the Eastern Sea was, for the most part, wrapped up.

Li Yuan gave the gourd a glance, then stepped straight into it.

Inside, the gourd's world had devolved into chaos. It was like stepping into a realm where all the demons had broken loose. The climate had gone completely haywire. In some regions, the land cracked under extreme drought; in others, floodwaters surged uncontrollably. There were places choked with toxic miasma, and still others that trembled endlessly with earthquakes.

Li Yuan’s gaze swept the chaotic land, flickering with the combat readings of dozens of sixth rank and fifth rank monsters, and even a few fourth rank ones.

He raised a hand, and one of the fourth rank beasts was yanked from the fray, suspended in the air before him.

It was the serpent-bodied, human-faced creature. Vertical pupils stared out from its inhuman face, exuding an eerie, ancient aura. It was twisted and unnatural, yet somehow mythic like something out of an old legend.

Li Yuan stared for a moment. Then he tossed it back.

The serpent twisted once midair and vanished into the storm-tossed waters of that world, disappearing beneath the surface.

Returning to the outside world, Li Yuan looked over at Yan Yu’s soul fragment and asked, “You’ve heard what’s going on beyond the Heavens, right?”

“I have. Whatever the original body knows, I know too,” she replied.

“You planning to keep going with this experiment?”

A serious look came over Yan Yu’s face.

“It’ll be like raising

gu

. The monsters born of the Four Symbols' pollution can devour each other. If we isolate them in separate sealed worlds and let each region produce its own strongest, we can then pit those winners against one another...and see what emerges from the crucible. I want to find out what kind of lifeform can be forged from this kind of brutal selection.

She added, “Once that creature is born, you’ll help me study it. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be a new race, one strong enough to be replicated and spread.”

Li Yuan frowned. “But these things can’t reproduce.”

“My original body looked into that,” said Yan Yu. “The corrupted beings from the Four Symbols have a strange trait. They can’t reproduce in any normal sense. Not live birth, not eggs, not spawning. But they

do

spread pollution. That might be the key. We’ll only know more once the ultimate lifeform is born. Right now, it’s all speculation.”

She continued, “Anyway, we still have time. Even though the arrival of the ancient halls will bring disaster, this new high-tier lifeform will be born before that.”

Then, as if remembering something, she added, “The original body said I can marry you if I want. You up for that?”

Li Yuan chuckled. “Let’s not. You focus on your experiments.”

“And you?” she asked.

Li Yuan looked off into the distance. “A few hundred years will pass in the blink of an eye. The three ancient halls will descend within a thousand years. Until then, I’ll keep wandering, training and fulfilling some old wishes.”

“Fair enough,” Yan Yu said. “If you ever want to find me, you know how.”

They shared a smile.

Then Li Yuan turned and vanished.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Li Yuan reappeared in the Cloud Capital.

Leveraging some connections, he acquired a large estate in the imperial city. It was a peaceful property near a vast lake, nestled in one of the most affluent districts.

Of course, this wasn’t just any wealthy neighborhood. These mansions belonged to figures whose true identities were largely unknown, people who operated far above the public eye. That was why the estates were spaced unusually far apart. They were so distant, in fact, that even if something catastrophic happened in one, the others wouldn’t be affected.

Among the few whose identities

had

been confirmed were some of the last remaining embers from the old age, Zhao Chunxin of the Bladeseekers, Lady Yu of the Enigma Sect, as well as Xie Yu of the Sword Sect.

This district existed outside the reach of both the imperial throne and the sects. Even the Emperor and Pontiff understood that this place ran deep with hidden currents. And so, all the residents here were quietly granted special privileges, such as tax exemptions, legal immunity, and above all, freedom from intrusion. No bureaucrat or bailiff dared to set foot here.

There were no guards patrolling this area.

At least, not before.

Now, without warning, puppet sentries had begun to appear along the perimeter.

And in front of the district gates, a plaque had been erected, bearing a single name, Ink Square.

In the largest estate at the center of Ink Square, giant azure birds emerged one after another from the void, each one carrying a person on its back.

The void-tunnel had been maintained by Li Yuan himself, a conduit running from the main world to the voidship, and from there all the way back to the Deathless Tomb.

One by one, familiar faces began to surface from the darkness.

For them, barely a moment had passed.

Li Yuan retrieved a Yearscribe, and with a single stroke, he drew a line through his own name, subtracting 3,000 years from his own lifespan. Then, beside each newly returned person, he added those same 3,000 years.

The residents of the Deathless Tomb had waited in vain for a chance at rebirth. But in the end, it welcomed something else, Li Yuan’s Yearscribe, with its power to take life and give it.

“Dearest...” Xue Ning stirred from her slumber, her eyes fluttering open. The white in her hair turned black again, silky and smooth. The lines on her face faded, youth returning in full.

She looked around in surprise, brows furrowing in confusion. The air was rich with the scent of spring, the trees alive with greenery, none of the endless night and bone-deep cold of the far north remained.

“What...what time is it now?”

Li Yuan smiled at her. “Xue Ning, it’s been over five hundred years. The world has changed, and so have we. This place...this is our new home.”

Xue Ning bit her lip. She tilted her head, taking in the world with wide eyes, breathing in deep. Tears shimmered in their corners.

“Alright,” she whispered. “Go do what you need to. Tell me everything later, when you’ve got time.”

Soon, another figure emerged on the back of an azure bird.

He was a tall man, nearly ten feet in height. Though he should have looked towering and powerful, his aura was frail, his body ravaged by some long-endured wound. As his cloudy eyes slowly opened and fell on Li Yuan, he gave a weak but genuine smile.

“Father...”