Chapter 1649: Tasting Splendor, Savoring Darkness

When the Ancestors emerge, no place in the world is unconquerable, no one undefeated. Where their blades point, from ancient times to the present, nothing ever changes.

At the horizon's edge, a Path's End creature from the ominous race whispered, yet its voice clearly echoed across all heavens, piercing the shadowed hearts of powerful individuals from every race.

The emergence of the Ancestors from the ominous race, the source of all ill omens, was equivalent to tearing apart all the hopes and aspirations of every race.

Beings of such transcendent power—a few emerging would be enough to flatten all great worlds, past and present, and shatter all myths. How much more devastating would ten of them be!

Even someone as mighty as Desolate, or as courageously advancing as Emperor Ye, would find it difficult to withstand so many.

A cold sigh resonated again. An Ancestor spoke, gazing at the imposing man before him who held a blood-dripping sword embryo.

That was Desolate. For years, he had single-handedly fended off three Ancestors, never admitting defeat, fighting against the source of ill omens, and even personally slaying a true Ominous Ancestor.

Alas, the Ancestral Land at the end of the Eerie Land was unspeakable, exceptionally mysterious, capable of resurrecting ominous beings. They stood on inherently unconquerable ground!

"Desolate, you are strong. You've fought alone for so many years, bleeding in foreign lands, severely wounded at the cosmic frontier, and even collapsed at the end of our race's plateau. Yet, you ultimately struggled to rise, fought your way out, and have continued to confront us until today, growing stronger with each battle!"

Although they were adversaries, the Ominous Ancestors had to admit the man's tenacity and power. He had even once fought his way to the source of the ill omens, intending to flatten the entire Ominous Plateau by himself.

But Desolate ultimately hit a wall. His opponents were unkillable, capable of repeated resurrection, while a single mistake on his part could lead to his demise, vanishing forever.

Throughout the myriad worlds, countless cultivators felt a blockage in their hearts. So many years had passed, and Desolate had vanished from the world; no one remembered him, and his name was absent even from ancient histories.

Yet, he had not gone far. He had been fighting all this time, single-handedly at the forefront. His blood had once stained the Eerie Land crimson, and his body had stumbled outside the Ominous Ancestral Land, battling alone amidst a rain of blood.

"However, it's all in vain. You cannot enter the Ancestral Land. Even if your combat strength is sufficient, you cannot open it, because you are not one of our race."

Many eras ago, Desolate himself had already realized the problem.

All indications suggested that to delve deeper, he would have to embrace the ominous, become a being like an Ancestor, and be recognized by that plateau's Ancestral Land to gain entry.

But by then, he would no longer be himself; he would become the most powerful and terrifying being, the greatest disaster across all worlds, unrestrainable by anyone!

Alternatively, to enter the end of the plateau, he would require an Ancestor's guidance and a special ritual to open the Ancestral Land from within.

Desolate even suspected that the peculiar plateau had developed a self-awareness.

"Desolate, your potential seems boundless. Even after you went to great lengths to manifest a grand era in ancient times, resurrecting a buried old epoch, you were only weakened for a brief period before gradually recovering, and growing even stronger. Three Ancestors confronted, pursued, and fought you, originally thinking it enough to obliterate all traces of you. But after countless ages, though you are covered in blood and your Grand Dao is scarred, you have never fallen. Naturally, this era cannot allow you to continue."

The Ancestors at the end of the plateau feared Desolate would grow even stronger after several more eras of fighting, to the point where three or five Ancestors combined could not restrain him. They had to nip him in the bud.

"You are a variable, startling us awake from our long slumber. All Ancestors have collectively divined and learned that the one who has been traversing the worlds since ancient times is merely a clone, possessing combat strength equivalent to your true body, but not the true body itself. Were you seeking an opportune moment for us to slay your clone? To make all worlds believe you had truly fallen, allowing your main body to lie dormant, awaiting a shift in the situation to enter the Ancestral Land, and then deliver a fatal blow to us? Alas, destiny is on our side. We have recovered ahead of schedule. With all ten Ancestors present, having divined everything, no matter how great your abilities, you are ultimately destined to become mere dust!"

The Ancestor spoke calmly, without excessive emotional fluctuation, for everything was already predestined.

"In truth, your actions are futile. Regardless, even if you could approach the Ancestral Land, you couldn't enter. I believe you've long realized the problem: unless you become one of us!"

With all Ancestors present, no one in the myriad worlds could oppose them. All great worlds could be annihilated. They were about to personally eliminate two variables and bring an end to their strongest potential opponent of countless eras.

The ten Great Ancestors were composed and remarkably calm. Some spoke leisurely, in no hurry to utterly destroy their opponent.

For after eliminating this variable, countless future eras might pass without them ever encountering such a formidable foe again.

For the Ancestors, who commanded endless eons and eternal life, their final great enemy was something to be "cherished." After the passage of time and vast changes, this encounter would become a brilliant chapter in their memories.

"Desolate, everything will now draw to a close. Your life has been tragic. From your rise, when you single-handedly confronted the Eerie Land, to when a multitude of peerless figures followed you, and then, in later stages, they all died in battle, leaving only you."

An Ancestor revealed an ancient story from a bygone era.

Back then, Desolate Heaven Emperor swept across all worlds unopposed. He then borrowed a path through the Heavens to strike the Eerie Land, displaying extreme brilliance. His aura of slaughter made even the Immortal Emperors of the ominous race tremble, unwilling to utter his name.

However, everything changed when the Ancestors later emerged.

At this moment, many figures appeared before Desolate's eyes: companions he had led from the Nine Heavens and Ten Lands to fight alongside him, and supreme heroes who had followed him in the Heavens.

Those people, those old friends, had all successively perished in the end. They had all... died in battle!

Even though his power was peerless and unrivaled through all ages, some individuals could never be brought back. He had not even succeeded in manifesting them in ancient times, and he would never see them again.

In his life, he had tasted the world's brilliance, but also savored the pain and darkness of endless abysses.

"What moves us is the woman named Willow God. In the past, she seemed not much weaker than you. Given more time, she should have been able to reach our level. She died for you without hesitation, her blood staining the plateau's Ancestral Land."

The Ancestor spoke dispassionately. At his level, his words could affect the stability of a great chiliocosm, more terrifying than the Grand Dao's laws themselves. Naturally, through speech, he could reflect all events, past and present.

In a trance, people saw a woman, originally of peerless grace, staggering through the Eerie Land, carrying a gravely wounded and dying Desolate. Blood continuously spilled from her mouth and nose, her pristine white forehead was pierced through, and crimson Dao blood flowed, as her primordial Grand Dao shattered to save Desolate...

Desolate, resilient in character, never yielded. He consistently overwhelmed his opponents, always giving the impression of being omnipotent and invincible throughout history.

Yet now, he was silent, his eyes filled with endless pain.

That day, long ago, was the first time he wept after ascending to the Path's End and becoming unrivaled in the world.

Who could have imagined that Desolate Heaven Emperor, who had always been incomparably powerful and capable of sweeping aside all opponents throughout history, would one day be profoundly despondent and shed tears for one person.

At this moment, those tragic old scenes reappeared before his eyes.

In that era, few remained by his side. Nearly all his followers had died in battle, constantly besieged. Unwilling to see further harm come to those who remained, he chose to enter the Eerie Land alone.

In that epoch, time and again, his true body fought its way in and out of the Eerie Land's depths, constantly assaulting its gates, intending to break through to the Ancestral Land!

At that time, he did not know that he would require guidance from an Ominous Ancestor, or become the source of ill omens himself, to truly enter the end of the Eerie Land.

To quell the ominous plateau, he attacked relentlessly. Though he survived a hundred battles, he paid an extremely heavy price, repeatedly falling into perilous situations.

In his final assault, he fought until exhaustion, his Grand Dao on the verge of collapse. At that critical moment, Willow God, who had been recuperating, appeared. The peerless woman emerged prematurely from her recovery, disregarding her own Grand Dao injuries. She fought a bloody path, her white robes stained crimson, carrying Desolate out of the Eerie Land.

But in the end, she collapsed. Her blood stained the ominous Eerie Land red as her Dao completely disintegrated.

She was an incredibly powerful female Immortal Emperor, a woman who had journeyed alongside Desolate, yet she died for him, perishing outside the Eerie Land.

In that lifetime, Desolate's heart was filled with endless sorrow. All those who could stand beside him had died in battle, leaving him alone in a vast world.

"I'm thinking, though your combat strength is extremely formidable, making even us wary, you cannot resurrect that woman, can you? After all, she perished outside the plateau. Even if you manifested her in the present from ancient times, it's impossible to bring back an Immortal Emperor who died by our hands!"

"Desolate, in all these years, have you ever regretted embarking on this solitary path, one that is destined for defeat?!" an Ancestor asked with an indifferent expression.

Desolate's eyes were filled with scenes of the past, and with those he could no longer see. His gaze fixed on that moment from years ago. He remained silent, the deepest part of his eyes reflecting sorrow and bitterness, as if he had returned to that era.

Then, suddenly, he moved... directly swinging his sword!

With a thud, powerful as the Ancestor was, even though they had collectively sealed the ten directions, the black figure who had just spoken still had its head obliterated by that majestic sword light, which seemed to cleave through past, present, and future!