Chapter 01: The Ancient Divine Tomb

Having traversed the primordial chaos of the cosmos and distilled the essence of heaven and earth… Even after escaping the six realms of reincarnation, one cannot evade the upheavals of the cosmos…

The Divine-Demon Cemetery lies at the heart of the Tianyuan Continent. Beyond housing the remains of humanity’s greatest warriors and the pinnacle cultivators among otherworldly beings, every other tomb within this sacred ground holds an ancient god or demon—a resting place reserved solely for the divine and the demonic.

Within its walls, lush green grass carpets the ground, and fragrant flowers bloom in abundance. Were it not for the dense forest of tombstones, one might mistake it for a serene garden. Encircling the cemetery stand towering snow maple trees—a unique feature of the Divine-Demon Cemetery, said to have formed from the lingering energies of departed gods and demons.

The snow maples’ emerald foliage sways gently in the breeze, as if reminiscing about past glories. Their snow-white petals, flawless as fresh snowflakes, drift slowly through the air—tears of the divine, whispering tales of sorrow long forgotten.

Day and Night: A World of Contrasts

The cemetery presents starkly contrasting scenes by day and night.

By day, ethereal mist shrouds the grounds, and sacred radiance bathes every inch of the cemetery. One might glimpse various deities materialized from the undying, potent divine thoughts of ancient gods and demons. Western angels dance, Eastern fairies sing—the entire cemetery enveloped in a sanctified atmosphere.

If daytime is a paradise for the gods, nightfall transforms it into a sanctuary for demons.

As the sun dips below the horizon and night descends, dark, malevolent energies surge forth from the graves, dimming the stars and moon, casting a grim pall over the land. Then, one might witness the rampant phantoms of legendary fiends and the shadowy specters of demons ravaging the grounds, accompanied by the bone-chilling, wailing howls of ancient malevolent spirits.

This sacred yet terrifying necropolis serves as a holy site revered by cultivators from both the Eastern and Western realms of the Tianyuan Continent. During the day, one often sees people coming to pay their respects. Even at night, certain specialized practitioners arrive to mourn—such as Eastern corpse-walkers and Western necromancers.

The cemetery finds its only peace at sunset, when the entire graveyard falls silent, utterly still.

The Awakening

Another sunset approached, marking the transition between divine and demonic realms. The fading sunlight cast an eerie, solemn glow over the cemetery.

Each divine and demonic tomb was meticulously tended, adorned with flowers.

Beside the towering tombs of gods and demons stood a low, unassuming grave. Barely noticeable, it bore no headstone, no flowers—just a simple mound of earth nearly level with the ground. Over the years, weathered by wind and rain, this nameless grave had been forgotten in the corner.

In the evening glow, the divine-demon tombs loomed even larger, while the nameless grave seemed even more insignificant. Yet at that very moment, the low mound underwent a strange transformation. Cracks slowly spread across its surface, and clods of earth began tumbling from its summit.

A pale hand emerged from the grave, followed by another. Both hands gripped the edge of the mound as a young man, his face blank with confusion, slowly climbed out. His disheveled hair was caked with dirt, and his torn clothes clung tightly to his body. Aside from his unnaturally pale complexion, the young man appeared utterly ordinary—the sort who would blend completely into any crowd.

“Where am I? How did I end up here?” the young man muttered to himself. His gaze swept over the sprawling graveyard before him, deepening his confusion.

Suddenly, he was drawn to the inscription on a nearby tombstone. Had anyone witnessed the young man intently studying the ancient characters etched there, they would have been utterly astonished. Such an archaic script left even the most seasoned scholars of the Ancient Culture Research Alliance shaking their heads in frustration.

The instant he finished reading the inscription, the young man’s expression changed dramatically. He gasped, “The Tomb of Eastern Martial God Zhan Wuji? Is… is this real? Could this truly be the legendary figure Zhan Wuji, who once dominated the Three Realms and Six Paths, commanding the winds and clouds? Could it be… even gods cannot escape death?”

Another towering divine tomb nearby sent shockwaves through him. “The Tomb of Caesar, Western God of War. Caesar? Could this be that Western Supreme God clad in golden armor, wielding the golden holy sword?”

He seemed to grasp something, turning his gaze outward. Towering tombs of gods and demons stood starkly against the setting sun.

“The tomb of the Eastern Immortal Cultivator, Peony Fairy; the tomb of the Western Goddess of Wisdom, Nas; the tomb of the Eastern Martial Immortal, Li Changfeng; the tomb of the Eastern Demon Cultivator, Ao Cangtian; the tomb of the Western Great Demon King, Lucifer…”

Heavens! What has happened to this world? Could it be… that all the gods of old have perished, all… all buried here?” The youth’s expression turned ashen, his face etched with utter disbelief.

“But… how could the deities of the Eastern Immortal Continent and the Western Demon Continent… be buried together?”

Suddenly, the young man noticed the small grave at his feet. He froze instantly, cold sweat soaking through his tattered clothes. A chill like falling into an ice cellar gripped his entire body.

“I… I crawled out of the grave…” His eyes were vacant, his mind blank. It felt as though his soul had been torn from his body. He collapsed weakly to the ground.

“I am Chen Nan. I was… dead. But… I have been resurrected…”

After a long while, a faint glimmer of life returned to Chen Nan’s hollow eyes. Finally, a look of utter shock spread across his face: “Heavens! What on earth is happening?! If I were dead, why did I crawl out of my grave?!”

“Could it be that Heaven intends for this worthless being to continue his mediocre existence?!” After the initial shock, Chen Nan’s face wore not just bewilderment, but deep anguish. He closed his eyes and clutched his head tightly with both hands.

He remembered clearly—he had perished in a duel. Yet now he was…

Memories flooded his mind: the past, the lost, the eternal… leaving behind an ocean of regret!

The world remained vast, flowers still bloomed fragrantly, yet his heart felt hollow, utterly adrift.

Echoes of the Past

After a long while, Chen Nan slowly rose from the ground. His gaze drifted across the cemetery until he finally recognized it as a burial ground for gods and demons. After the initial shock, he gradually calmed down.

“Even the hardest diamond-hard stone tombstones bear the clear carvings of time’s ravages. This must have taken ten thousand years. The sea has turned to fields, ten thousand years have passed slowly, Heh… truly a dream of a thousand years!” Chen Nan sighed.

Surveying the forest of tombstones, his mind filled with questions.

“The Tomb of Xiao Zhen, the Heaven-Shouting Divine Tiger; the Tomb of Gai Rui, the Three-Headed Demon Dragon; the Tomb of Liang Feng, the Martial Saint; the Tomb of Otto Li, the Divine Knight… It seems that besides gods and demons, this place also holds the remains of some powerful humans and a few rare cultivators of different races.”

What happened ten thousand years ago? Why did the gods and demons, who claimed to be immortal, perish? Why were the deities of the Immortal Realm and the Demon Realm buried together? Why was I laid to rest here?

A gentle breeze swept through, ruffling his filthy, long hair and stirring the loneliness in his heart.

Chen Nan cried out to the heavens: “Who can tell me what truly happened?”

No one answered him.

In the distance, towering snow maple trees shed a skyful of petals. They drifted through the air like a shower of tears—fallen blossoms weeping for the departed gods!

“The gods are dead, the demons vanquished, yet I still live… Heaven, why did you let me crawl from the grave? Where am I supposed to go now?”

The sun sank low in the west, the evening glow painting half the sky crimson, edging the crimson clouds at the horizon with streaks of gold.

Chen Nan gathered his scattered emotions. He knew some things were beyond choice; he could only move forward step by step.

He carefully filled the small grave beneath his feet with earth, then walked toward the cemetery exit. As he passed through the spirit-filled snow maple forest, he paused in astonishment. He had never seen trees imbued with such potent spiritual energy. He wondered silently—could this be a new species of tree that had emerged during his long “slumber”?

As flawlessly white petals drifted before him, his vision blurred. Sealed memories slowly unfolded—another season of falling blossoms…

He recalled the one in his heart…

“The sea turns to fields, human affairs rise and fall… Alas!” Chen Nan shook his head and strode purposefully out of the forest.

As he emerged from the snow maple forest, the sun was setting. The once tranquil Divine-Demon Cemetery was no longer at peace. Dark, malevolent energy rose from the graves, and endless darkness began to envelop the entire burial ground.

Chen Nan faintly heard low growls echoing behind him, but he paid them no mind, assuming it was merely beasts emerging after sunset. He stretched his limbs and muttered to himself, “Ten thousand years… I hope my body hasn’t rusted.” He knew his martial arts weren’t exceptional, but they should suffice against ordinary beasts.

The Guardian’s Kindness

Not far ahead in the Snow Maple Forest, three thatched cottages came into view. A gaunt old man stood before the door, his hair and beard white as snow, his face etched with wrinkles weathered by time.

A strange emotion welled up in Chen Nan’s heart. This was the first person he had seen since his rebirth. He felt a hint of familiarity, a touch of loss, and a tinge of confusion…

Ten thousand years ago, he was born before his parents. Ten thousand years later, upon his rebirth, he now faced this old man.

“Why would I associate my parents with this old man?” he chuckled to himself, a hint of self-mockery in his voice.

The old man shuffled toward him, leaning heavily on a cane, his frail form making one fear a mere breeze could topple him.

Chen Nan hurried forward to steady him. The old man waved him off, muttering reproachfully in a language Chen Nan couldn’t understand.

The obscure, incomprehensible speech sent a chill through his heart. It suddenly dawned on him—ten thousand years had passed. The language of his era had been discarded by history.

He had hoped to learn about the present world through the old man, but the language barrier shattered his hopes.

Seeing his vacant stare, the old man’s expression softened, his tone growing gentler. Yet when he noticed Chen Nan’s continued bewilderment, the old man frowned slightly before taking his hand and leading him toward a thatched hut.

Chen Nan followed mechanically, his instincts telling him the old man meant him no harm. But unable to communicate, he could only pretend deafness and silence.

The old man led him to the hut, pointed at a wooden barrel on the ground, then gestured toward a well nearby before disappearing inside.

“Does he want me to fetch water? Is he planning to make me his laborer?” Chen Nan wondered silently.

When the old man reappeared before him, Chen Nan realized he had misjudged the man. Those gnarled, bony hands offered him a set of half-worn clothes—clearly, the old man wanted him to change and wash up.

Seeing the faint smile on the old man’s face, Chen Nan flushed. His own clothes were ragged, his hair matted and unkempt, his entire body covered in grime.

A wave of gloom washed over Chen Nan. When had he ever been so destitute ten thousand years ago? Silently, he lifted the wooden bucket and walked toward the well.

He channeled his true qi within, exerting a slight force. The tattered garments on his body shattered completely, scattering to the ground.

This was the Divine Silkworm Treasure Robe from years past! Time was the most merciless force—even that robe, once impervious to fire and water, resistant to blades and arrows, could not withstand ten thousand years of erosion!

The icy well water washed away the grime from his body, but it could not wash away the troubles in his heart.

“What should I do? Without understanding the language of this present continent, I cannot communicate with others. How am I supposed to survive in this world?”

Chen Nan dressed in the clothes the old man had prepared for him, then stepped before the thatched hut and smiled gratefully at the elder.

The scent of cooking wafted over as the old man slowly approached the stove beside the hut, gesturing for Chen Nan to follow.

Taking the bowl of congee the old man offered, Chen Nan felt a wave of emotion wash over him. Ten thousand years… Never imagined I’d sit at a table again. How unpredictable life is!

His stomach was empty, making greasy foods inadvisable—a bowl of congee was just right. After supper, dusk had long fallen. Chen Nan followed the old man inside. The old man lit a candle, its flickering light filling the small room with a gentle warmth.

The furnishings were simple: a wooden bed, an armchair, and a desk.

The desk was spotless, with over a dozen books neatly arranged upon it. Yet Chen Nan recognized not a single character on their covers. After ten thousand years, the continent’s script had become utterly unrecognizable, leaving him with a pang of disappointment.

As the old man moved toward another room, Chen Nan sank into the armchair, his mind swirling with thoughts, yet devoid of any joy.

Ten thousand years ago, though born into a distinguished lineage, he himself was mediocre. Living within that circle, he bore an overwhelming burden, constantly tormented by agony. He had long grown weary of that existence. Had it not been for the lingering attachment in his heart, death might well have been a form of liberation.

Fate played a cruel joke. Ten thousand years later, he found himself alive again. Though freed from that crushing weight, everything had changed…

Chen Nan felt profound bitterness. His loved ones and friends had long since passed into the realm of the dead. His beloved confidante, too, had returned to the earth. Now, he remained alone in this world, finding no joy in living.

He mocked himself: “Have I truly escaped history, or has history abandoned me?”

The candle’s tears dried up, its flame flickered one last time, and the room plunged into darkness.

Outside the window, stars twinkled faintly. The night was unusually still, yet Chen Nan tossed and turned on his bed, unable to sleep.

He forced himself to calm down and channeled his family’s mystical arts. He wanted to see if his power remained intact after ten thousand years.

True energy flowed like a trickle within him. After ten thousand years, the power within his body showed not the slightest change.

As he deliberately channeled the mystical energy, his senses sharpened. He faintly heard muffled, mournful howls drifting from the direction of the tomb complex, sending a chill down his spine.

“So many ferocious beasts? For an old man to guard this tomb alone at his advanced age is truly perilous!”

Chen Nan was unaware that at this very moment, the old man had entered the Divine-Demon Cemetery. He carried a basket filled with fragrant snow maple blossoms. Ignoring the illusory specters of fierce deities and demonic apparitions, he placed several snow-white petals before each tomb, his expression profoundly devout.

Chen Nan’s “former residence,” that low mound of earth, had sunk beneath the hollowed-out soil until it was barely visible, rising only slightly above the ground.

The old man shuffled over, sighing deeply. “Ah! Since you have no tombstone, you’ll likely fade from the world’s memory. But perhaps it’s for the best. Less glory, more tranquility—a peaceful rest, free from disturbance. Return to where you came from.”

With that, the old man slowly crouched down. He extended both hands and carefully scattered the raised mound of earth elsewhere, making the small grave vanish completely. A dozen petals drifted down from the air, leaving behind a lingering fragrance.

A New Dawn

A ray of dawn sunlight streamed through the window. Chen Nan opened his drowsy eyes and murmured to himself, “Strange. Why hasn’t Father sent anyone to urge me to practice today? Ah, yes. He’s nearly entered the realm of Immortal Martial Arts. How could he still have time to concern himself with me?”

Suddenly, he noticed the simple furnishings in the room. He sat up abruptly and, after a long momen,t murmured, “So all of this is real. Ten thousand years have slipped by in the blink of an eye!”

He gently pushed open the thatched cottage door and stepped into the courtyard. Fresh air, fragrant with flowers and grass, washed over him, invigorating his spirit. A faint mist swirled through the woods, drifting slowly. Birds, unafraid of humans, hopped from branch to branch, singing melodiously. Chen Nan closed his eyes, immersing himself in this harmonious, poetic scene.

“You’re awake?” The old man’s voice came from behind him.

Chen Nan couldn’t understand the old man’s words, so he simply offered a smile in response.

After breakfast, Chen Nan stood up, pointed toward the path leading into the distance, waved goodbye to the old man, and bowed deeply before departing.

An hour later, he arrived at a small town. His ordinary appearance and contemporary attire went unnoticed.

Chen Nan felt both joy and worry. Joy that a new life was beginning, worry that he didn’t understand the language of this world.

Chen Nan was astonished to discover that alongside locals with black hair and eyes like his own, the town also had residents with golden hair and blue eyes, others with red hair and blue eyes, blue hair and black eyes…

“It seems so much has happened in these ten thousand years. I must integrate into this society as quickly as possible.”

Suddenly, Chen Nan felt a chill run down his spine, a wave of coldness washing over him. His instincts told him a powerful expert was watching him.

A middle-aged Taoist priest shook his head and sighed not far behind him: “Strange. I distinctly sensed an unusual aura emanating from that young man just now. Yet upon closer inspection, it vanished without a trace.”

Only after the old Taoist had walked far away did Chen Nan dare to turn and look. All he saw was a receding figure—serene and otherworldly, as ethereal as a celestial being.

Chen Nan recalled his father’s words: “Chen Nan, remember this: anyone who can see through the flow of our family’s secret inner energy is no ordinary person. They are either a true martial arts master or a reclusive cultivator. You must be especially cautious!”

“He’s a cultivator! Aren’t such people rarely seen in the mortal world?” Chen Nan knew well the terror such individuals held. Only martial artists of profound cultivation dared to oppose them.

His father’s words still rang in his ears: “…To reshape the physical form, solidify the divine spirit, and attain a lifespan equal to heaven and earth, a radiance matching the sun and moon—this is the ultimate goal of cultivation, the realm of immortality. The path we martial artists walk, however, is to defy heaven and cultivate the body, thereby reaching the legendary realm of Immortal Martial Arts. In the eyes of most, the path of the martial artist is inferior to that of the cultivator, but…”

His father did not continue, but Chen Nan understood. Martial artists were not incapable of standing against cultivators—his father himself was the finest proof. Even accomplished cultivators regarded him as an equal when they met.

At this thought, Chen Nan’s heart stirred. “I wonder if Father ultimately reached the Immortal Martial Realm. If so… perhaps there will be a day when father and son meet again.”

Yet the sight of that cemetery, densely packed with tombstones of gods and demons, sent a wave of dread through him.

“Even if Father reached the Immortal Martial Realm, he likely couldn’t escape…”

A wave of gloom washed over him.

Lost in the Storm

Pedestrians bustled through the streets, cries of buyers and sellers rising and falling in a cacophony of lively noise. Yet Chen Nan felt utterly alone, as if he were an orphan of this world, cruelly abandoned by history.

“I was but an ordinary soul. Having already died, why, after eons of time, was I allowed to crawl out of the Divine Tomb?”

A vast expanse of dark clouds swept across the sky, instantly dimming the light.

“Boom!”

A thunderclap echoed, prompting shops lining the street to close their doors. Passersby hurried along, and within moments, the thoroughfare grew eerily quiet. Only he remained, standing alone in the middle of the road.

After the flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder, torrential rain poured down. The icy water soaked through Chen Nan’s clothes, sending a chill through his body. Yet colder still was his heart, filled with utter desolation.

“Though heaven and earth are vast, where is my home?”

A curtain of rain hung over the world. A solitary figure wandered down the street, letting the raindrops beat wildly against his body.

Ten thousand years ago, Chen Nan was born into a martial arts lineage. Possessing extraordinary talent in cultivation, he was the pride of his family. Yet, a nightmare began when his ancestral cultivation technique, instead of advancing, regressed. He plummeted from the Great Perfection Realm of the Second Heaven back to the mid-stage of the First Heaven.

His father had already reached the pinnacle of martial arts. In such a prominent family, the pressure Chen Nan faced was unimaginable.

During those dark days, scorn and ridicule… pressure from all sides left him utterly lost.

Yet, one person remained steadfast in her belief that one day, he would shine brilliantly. Recalling that “her,” Chen Nan felt a wave of sorrow wash over him, an indescribable pain welling up in his heart.

“Yuxin, do you know? My deepest regret is that I never told you those three words back then: I love you.”

Youth fades, beauty withers.

Yuxin remained an eternal ache in Chen Nan’s heart, the regret of his life.

Chen Nan stumbled aimlessly into an alley, his chest tight with agony as the metallic taste of blood rose in his throat.

“Guh—”

He opened his mouth and spat out a mouthful of blood, collapsing into the muddy water.

“Yuxin…” His vision darkened, and he lost consciousness.