Chapter 1174: Doubting Life

Author: Three Hundred Jin's SmileCategory:Last Updated: 2020/07/26Chapter Word Count: 7516 characters

A story from the Cosmic Sculpture Era, dating back to the genesis of chaos?

As these words reached his ears, the white-haired old man felt every pore on his body explode, every nerve racing. His legs turned to jelly, his vision went black, and the world spun.

Who exactly were these people?

The boundless universe holds endless wonders.

This was the center of a universe, and on the land beyond its cosmic wall, great ancient beings from other extraordinary worlds were as countless as migrating fish.

For over 14 billion years, generations of Saints have resided beyond the cosmic chaos, acting as the fundamental rules of the Great Dao, overseeing the Heavenly Dao, laws, and order of the universe below.

Each generation held sway for merely a few million years.

But 14 billion years was an immense span of time. No one knew how many eras had overlapped, how many cycles of creation and destruction this land had witnessed in ancient times. All they knew was that there were countless ancient, inscrutable entities of unimaginable origins, and various ancient, mysterious forbidden zones said to reveal the ethereal figures of primordial deities.

Even some Saints who had achieved Dao, upon venturing deep into these forbidden zones, would meet a tragic end.

It was said that an entity with a perfect Great Dao bloodline, whose lifespan was nearing its end, once ventured into a forbidden zone, bringing its entire cultivation ground with it. Outsiders observed that Saint fleeing the zone, bathed in blood, only to be impaled through the skull by an ancient, unadorned dry branch, perishing completely.

If, after more than 10 billion years, almost every visible planet and galaxy within the universe was covered in the graveyards of civilizations and ancient ruins, with later new civilizations living upon the remains of their predecessors, then the chaotic heavens outside the universe were no different. They too were strewn with ancient graveyard ruins, profoundly mysterious and eerie.

These ruins, in turn, all originated from ancient Saints who had achieved Dao.

It was precisely these unimaginable ruins, accumulated over generations, that established the profound heritage and splendor of this place, making the lower realms seem utterly barren in comparison.

“What in the world is this....”

The white-haired old man's face was already filled with horror. He had glimpsed an unimaginable truth, a level he had only just begun to comprehend. “Could it be that ancient, hereditary Saint families have re-emerged? Are they now walking this ancient, desolate land?”

Meanwhile, in the bustling market, the group continued their stroll.

“Hmph, this place is truly full of country bumpkins,” Xiao Shiji mumbled, her face devoid of interest as she moved away from a stall, intending to browse elsewhere, while still curiously surveying her surroundings.

They moved with an incredibly leisurely air, as if they were mere travelers on the land.

As they proceeded, the young, mysterious man, addressed as 'Your Majesty,' chuckled softly. “Right, regarding these sculptures, they do have a bit of a story. The clay figures just displayed were quite ordinary, sculpted by common folk of that era. But having endured the ravages of time, even the surviving remnants have lost their essence.... The sculptures of truly powerful beings, however, contain an unimaginable charm and profoundness.”

“Charm? Weren't they sculpted by mortals?” Shiji asked.

That being shook his head. “When a mortal sculpts for hundreds of millions of years, they can simplify the complex.... Their sculptures possess a unique profoundness. In fact, the era of sculpture art laid the foundation for them to sculpt the rules of the universe itself....

From some precious statues, one can discern the origins of ancient Daoist charm, subtly conforming to the Heavenly Dao and their philosophies. However, such rare treasures are scarce, as their sculptures are extraordinary.... If you like them, I could give you one or two to display.”

“They can’t be used as magical artifacts?” Medusa, ever the pragmatist, asked. Many powerful individuals were collectors who enjoyed ancient artifacts, but she valued practicality.

“No, they can't be used as artifacts, nor can they be used to hit people.... But they are considered valuable collectibles,” Rehimansgar replied with a friendly smile, shaking his head.

“Then never mind,” the Demon Lord said, shaking his head. “If they can’t be used in combat, what good are they sitting at home?”

“They have no practical value at all. One careless move and they’ll shatter. I’m a crude person, I don’t care for such things,” the Martial Alliance Leader grumbled with a deep voice.

“Such creations are quite ordinary,” the emperor-like being stated. “In my eyes, they’re practically ubiquitous. It would be far more interesting to observe a few powerful beings instead.”

Immediately, the Demon Lord, the Martial Alliance Leader, and Zhou Meng lost interest.

“Your Majesty, I, however, would very much like to collect one,” said Mr. You. After all, he was a refined scholar who enjoyed collecting books and ancient artifacts.

“Certainly,” Xu Zhi chuckled. After all, with the second Tenth-tier Ultimate appearing so quickly, granting such a small request was no problem.

Besides, what kind of people were working for him anyway?

Xu Zhi's face was lined with exasperation.

He considered himself quite cultured and immensely knowledgeable; after all, knowledge was power, and every powerful being was a great cosmic scholar well-versed in ancient and modern times.

But these people?

All the profound knowledge they had acquired seemed to have been converted into muscle.

Only Mr. You was somewhat refined and sophisticated, truly a cultured individual. Everyone else had been led astray by Medusa, caring only for brawls and battles—they were simply uncultured, idle members of society, having learned so much for nothing!

As they spoke, the group gradually walked away.

It wasn't until their figures completely vanished that the white-haired old man, still seated at his stall, snapped back to reality, listening to the chilling conversation.

“Th-th-th-this,” the old man stammered, feeling his entire body tremble uncontrollably as he looked in the direction they had gone. He had heard about precious sculptures crafted by unimaginable ancient deities who had existed since the genesis of chaos...

Those were ancient sculptural treasures! Treasures!!!

In the eyes of some unimaginably powerful Saints of the current age, such items were worth a fortune, priceless treasures most worthy of collection, allowing one to trace the footsteps of pioneers and admire ancient sages. It was like certain collectors on Earth acquiring the First Emperor’s imperial seal or Emperor Wu of Han’s calligraphic treasures—an unimaginable temptation to gaze upon antiquity and hold it close.

Yet, these people—they didn’t want any of them? They looked down on them?

Where did these country bumpkins come from!!

They had absolutely no cultural knowledge or background!

He roared internally, a surge of indignant frustration swelling within him.

He was merely a Ninth-tier Dao Achiever, unable to ascend to the Ultimate realm in his lifetime. However, his attainments in other fields were profound, and his hidden status was not low. Not only was he the ruler of this bustling market district, but he was also a revered archaeologist, one of the most knowledgeable elders in the entire land, known as Old Man Xuanji. Not only did some powerful individuals seek his guidance when they obtained unknown ancient artifacts, but even ancient beings in the Daoist temples appreciated his scholarship, often bringing him treasures for appraisal.

He knew that the items he sold were broken and lacked Daoist charm, as they had drifted outside for a long time. However, he also possessed a few ancient treasures that, due to being sealed away, had been perfectly preserved and retained a rich Daoist charm, which he cherished deeply.

“A bunch of crude, unrefined oafs! Their cultivation must not be very high,” he silently cursed. “After all, the higher a powerful being's cultivation, the more profound their knowledge, the more refined and cultured they become, excelling in collecting, painting, and calligraphy.” But then, he suddenly froze. Hadn’t the other party just called *him* a bumpkin...?

So... who exactly was the bumpkin?

He had initially been certain that they were indeed bumpkins—uncultured and clearly from some backwater, having never seen the greater world. But now, with the preconceived notion of their mysterious identities, coupled with their conversation, he vaguely felt an incongruous sense that *he* was the bumpkin....

And their seemingly uncultured, carefree, and boorish demeanor now somehow appeared to be that of an unconstrained, elegant, and mysterious master...

The white-haired old man quickly steadied himself and muttered, “This must be some kind of evil spell.”

He came to his senses, wanting to catch up with those mysterious beings, realizing it might have been an unimaginable opportunity—perhaps some great Saint descending to the mortal realm. But they were already gone, and he couldn’t help but feel regret.

“I, this old Daoist, have missed a great opportunity.”

He felt profound regret, but could only continue tending his stall. “Yet, there’s no need to lament too much. No matter how powerful the being I encounter, I cannot break through to achieve Dao. This old man long ago ceased to pursue cultivation. Rather, the content of their conversation—*that* is what I have passionately pursued my entire life.”

He desperately wanted to discuss the sculptures with them, to correct their views, and to educate them.

A few days later, while still setting up his stall at the south entrance of the city, he suddenly spotted a familiar figure.

It was the emperor-like man, possessing the imposing aura of one who surveys all under heaven, a trace of gentle anger in his eyes. He walked through the city gates, saying, “Don’t think I can’t find you. Mere quanta... your aura lingers here.”

The emperor’s dignified and domineering attire was quite normal.

Given that the inhabitants of this land came from various extraordinary worlds, any attire could be considered normal: ancient emperors in dragon robes, men in black tailcoats, powerful beings draped in magic robes and wielding staffs, creatures made entirely of mechanical parts...

But in the white-haired old man’s eyes, a faint light glimmered.

Earlier, this emperor had been part of that group. Though he didn’t know why he was alone now, it didn’t stop him from approaching him again.

“Are you looking for me?” Emperor Qi turned around, his gaze as placid as an ancient well. “Do you recognize me?”

By this point, the white-haired old man had been tormented for days, growing increasingly agitated. He felt he had to correct the thinking of those people, to make them understand just how precious those artifacts, imbued with Daoist charm and meaning, truly were.

“Perhaps you don’t know what the outside world is like—it’s rather primitive, and knowledge is shallow. It’s no wonder you don’t realize how precious those treasures are! Just look at this, and you’ll see how worthy it is of collection!” He carefully took out his cherished clay sculpture, intricately detailed, with an ancient Daoist aura flowing from it. “Look, this was sculpted by ancient sages...”

“I’m not interested,” the emperor-like being interrupted. “Such creations are quite ordinary; in my eyes, they’re practically ubiquitous. It would be far more interesting to observe a few powerful beings instead.”

The old man instantly stiffened.

Just like the country bumpkins from before!

The white-haired old man was utterly exasperated. How could this be ordinary? Ubiquitous? These were unique treasures throughout history, each one irreplaceable!

He forced himself to calm down and said patiently, “How can that be? Look again. Judging by your cultivation, it’s not low. This sculpture, its Daoist charm is so natural; it clearly wasn’t made with human magical power, yet it shows such mastery. It’s hard to imagine how long someone must have immersed themselves in it.”

“It’s truly very ordinary,” Emperor Qi said impatiently, glancing at it dismissively. “Though it appears to have some special Daoist charm, it’s still very common, ubiquitous.” He then casually scooped up a handful of dirt, lightly sculpted it, and an identical figure appeared in his hand.

The white-haired old man was dumbfounded.

He just duplicated it right there?

Even the most skilled forger couldn’t accomplish such a feat!!

Witnessing this, his mind went completely blank. He began to question if he was truly a frog at the bottom of a well, or if the world he knew was simply too low-tier.

No wonder that group had looked down on those treasures earlier. Now, just one of them could casually produce such valuable items with terrifying, unimaginable ability....

So, he was the true country bumpkin after all?

The white-haired old man was utterly bewildered, as if his mind had been broken.

The emperor-like figure before him, looking impatient, suddenly brightened and said with a smile, “Do you know where that group went? I got separated from them.”