177: Chapter 174 Battleground of the Ancient Era

This was a mysterious and profound transformation.

Like refined steel tempered a hundred times, after the scorching fire and heavy hammer, it was immersed in quenching water; its rigid essence remained unchanged, yet it gained an indescribable resilience.

Spring passed and autumn came; the cold and heat alternated.

Chen Zhiwen's footsteps never ceased.

The coarse hempen clothes on his body had been washed until they turned white, and the hair at his temples was slightly messy from the wind and frost.

The wine gourd at his waist was sometimes empty and sometimes full, having held clear mountain spring water and the murky wine of small towns.

His aura became increasingly ordinary, as ordinary as a stone by the roadside; cast into the sea of people, he could no longer be traced.

Only in that pair of eyes, when they occasionally opened and closed, would a fleeting galaxy rotate, so deep that it seemed to reflect the entire firmament.

On this day, he walked to a strange land.

The border between Great Chu and Great Yu, the two Imperial Dynasties.

Here, it was a forbidden zone.

The earth presented a strange, dark red color, as if it had been soaked in endless blood.

Huge cracks, like hideous scars, covered the surrounding area, deep and bottomless.

The air was filled with a violent, chaotic, and destructive aura, so oppressive that it made people unable to breathe.

Looking around, not a blade of grass grew; there was no hint of green, only dead silence.

It was as if this place were a wound of the world, a scar of heaven and earth that the passage of eternal ages could not smooth over.

However, this desolate, dead-silent place appeared somewhat unusual today.

Chen Zhiwen's gaze narrowed slightly.

He saw that on the distant horizon, there were many flickering lights, and figures were gathering from all directions toward the center of this forbidden zone.

Those figures, without exception, all radiated not-weak cultivation fluctuations.

"Interesting."

Chen Zhiwen's lips curled into an arc, and without stopping his pace, he followed at a leisurely speed.

He mingled with the crowd, completely inconspicuous.

Following the flow of people, he arrived outside a huge circular valley.

At this moment, the ridges around the valley were already packed with figures, densely packed, no fewer than several thousand.

The clamor rose to the sky, dispersing much of the dead silence here.

Chen Zhiwen found a corner and leaned casually against a boulder, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings calmly.

He reached out and gently patted the shoulder of a seemingly talkative young Cultivator beside him.

"Greetings, fellow Daoist."

His voice was gentle, with a hint of just the right amount of hoarseness, like the fatigue after a long journey.

The young Cultivator was watching with excitement and was initially displeased at being interrupted, but upon turning around and seeing Chen Zhiwen's plain appearance and simple attire, the vigilance in his eyes dissipated, replaced by a sense of superiority.

"What is it?"

He asked with a touch of arrogance.

Chen Zhiwen didn't mind, a warm smile hanging on his face.

"I am new here and seeing this place so lively, I became curious. May I ask what grand event is taking place here?"

Hearing this, the arrogance on the young Cultivator's face grew, as if he were looking at a country bumpkin.

"You don't even know this?"

He cleared his throat and said in a boastful tone.

"The ones dueling here today are the two top Prodigies among our younger generation in the Desolate Province!"

"Oh?"

Chen Zhiwen showed an expression of great interest.

"Please enlighten me, fellow Daoist."

The young Cultivator enjoyed the feeling of knowing something that everyone else was focused on; he lowered his voice and acted mysterious.

"One is the head Disciple of the inner cabinet of our Human Race's number one Sect, the Zetian Sect, the 'Clear Wind Sword' Feng Qingyang!"

"The other is the Crown Prince of the Biyou Flood Dragon Clan from the North Sea Demon Clan, Ao Ming!"

The young Cultivator's eyes shone with worship and longing.

"Since their last training in Qinghua Mountain, these two have both obtained immense Opportunity, and their cultivation has advanced by leaps and bounds! Now, both of them are true Peak Grandmaster powerhouses!"

"It is said that they had long agreed that once their cultivation stabilized, they would have a fair battle in this Ancient Era battlefield, both to determine who is superior and to hone their own martial Dao!"

Chen Zhiwen heard this, and a flash of understanding passed through his eyes.

Feng Qingyang, Ao Ming.

He was not unfamiliar with these two names.

Unexpectedly, in such a short time, they had reached this point.

Just then, a heaven-shaking cheer erupted from the crowd!

Chen Zhiwen looked up.

He saw that in the center of the valley, two figures were already standing proudly in the Void Realm, facing each other from afar.

The person on the left was dressed in white as snow, immaculate. He had a handsome face and an elegant demeanor, holding a three-foot azure edge in his hand; he was like a clear breeze blowing over the hills, formless and shapeless, yet omnipresent.

It was Feng Qingyang of the Zetian Sect.

The person on the right wore blue battle armor, upon which a Flood Dragon totem was coiled, vivid and lifelike. He was tall and sturdy with a cold expression, his long blue hair moving without wind; in his eyes was the unruliness and dominance belonging to the Yao Race.

The North Sea Demon Clan, Ao Ming.

Between the two, separated by a thousand zhang, invisible Qi was colliding violently in the Void Realm.

"Clang!"

Feng Qingyang moved.

Without extra words, the azure edge sword in his hand let out a clear sword hum, and a pale green Sword Qi, like an antelope hanging by its horns, left no trace as it quietly cut through the Void Realm, pointing straight at Ao Ming's glabella.

This sword strike was light, elegant, yet contained extreme sharpness.

"Hmph! Petty tricks!"

Ao Ming snorted coldly, neither dodging nor evading.

He clenched his fist abruptly, and the Demonic Qi around him erupted; a huge blue Flood Dragon phantom appeared behind him, roaring at the sky.

"Roar!"

The sound of the Dragon roar shook the surroundings!

He punched out, the violent fist force, carrying monstrous water vapor, transformed into a hideous Dragon head, meeting that Sword Qi.

"Boom!"

A loud noise exploded in the center of the valley!

At the center where the Sword Qi and fist force collided, the space rippled visibly to the naked eye. The terrifying energy aftermath swept out in all directions like a tsunami.

The Cultivators around the valley hurriedly used their cultivation to defend, their faces full of horror.

"So strong!"

"Is this... is this really the strength of the younger generation? Ordinary veteran Grandmasters probably wouldn't last ten moves under them!"

"Too terrifying! Feng Qingyang's sword already has a hint of the 'Heaven and Man as One' Concept! Ao Ming's fist is even more incomparably domineering, as if it could tear the sky apart!"

Discussions rose and fell, and everyone was deeply shocked by this shocking battle before them.

Chen Zhiwen watched quietly, his eyes as calm as an ancient well.

In his eyes, the movements of the two seemed to have been slowed down countless times.

Feng Qingyang's sword was indeed elegant, having mastered the true teachings of the Zetian Sect's Daoist naturalness, every strike secretly conforming to the ultimate principles of heaven and earth.

Ao Ming's fist was also truly domineering, bringing the Yao Race's tyrannical Physical Body and Bloodline Divine Ability to the fullest.

They were indeed worthy of being called Prodigies.

With their talent, if there were no accidents, stepping into the Great Grandmaster realm in the future was almost a certainty.

In the crowd, someone, unknown who, sighed.

"Feng Qingyang and Ao Ming have already stood at the pinnacle of the younger generation, looking down on their contemporaries! After this battle, the winner will be the undisputed number one youth in the Desolate Province!"

As soon as this was said, someone immediately retorted.

"Fellow Daoist, that is incorrect."

A cold-faced swordsman shook his head and said in a deep voice.

"The two of them are certainly Prodigies among Prodigies, but if you speak of the pinnacle of the younger generation... they are still far off."

"Oh? How so?"

The previous person was a bit unconvinced.

In the swordsman's eyes appeared a deep sense of awe, or even fear.

He said word by word: "Because, above them, there is still a mountain that no peer can surpass, and even looking up at it feels like a luxury."

"You mean..."

"The Great Xuan Dynasty, Fifth Prince, Chen Zhiwen!"

As soon as this name was mentioned, the surrounding air seemed to freeze for a moment.

The originally noisy crowd actually fell into a moment of dead silence.

Everyone's face showed an extremely complex expression. There was awe, fear, longing, and also powerlessness.

"It is him..."

"With his own strength, suppressing the five great demons of the North Sea, slaying the Old Ancestors of the two major Sects, Xuan Yin Valley and Wan Fa Sect... such a battle record can no longer be described by the word 'Prodigy'."

"That is... a monster!"

"No matter how strong Feng Qingyang and Ao Ming are, they are ultimately still in the category of 'human'. And that Fifth Prince has long transcended our imagination."

"Yes, as long as he is here, the 'number one' of the younger generation in the Desolate Province will never be in doubt."

Listening to the discussions in his ears, Chen Zhiwen's expression had not a ripple.

He just quietly watched the battle in the field.

At this moment, the battle between Feng Qingyang and Ao Ming had entered a white-hot stage.

Sword Qi crisscrossed, and Dragon shadows flew.

Both of them were fighting with real fire, and all kinds of trump cards were emerging one after another.

But in Chen Zhiwen's eyes, the outcome was already clear.

Feng Qingyang's Dao was wind, cloud, and sky. It seemed ethereal, but in reality, it encompassed everything and was full of resilience.

And Ao Ming's Dao was Flood Dragon, dominance, and conquest. It seemed fierce, but in reality, it was straightforward and did not know how to turn.

What is too rigid is easily broken.

Although Ao Ming's offensive was fierce, his consumption of Qi was far greater than Feng Qingyang's. His flaws were being gradually magnified by Feng Qingyang's sword net, which was like mercury pouring onto the ground.

At most, there were thirty breaths left.

Chen Zhiwen already had a judgment in his heart.

He withdrew his gaze, feeling bored.

He turned around and walked silently toward the outside of the crowd.

His back was still ordinary, still plain, mingled in the noise of thousands, without attracting anyone's attention.

...Except for one person.

On the other side of the crowd.

A group of young students dressed in green Confucian robes were gathered together; the woman leading them had an elegant temperament and an exquisitely beautiful face, like an orchid in an empty valley.

It was the Disciple of Qingping Academy, Yi Qingyue.

Just the moment Chen Zhiwen turned around, she seemed to feel something, abruptly raised her head, her gaze piercing through the moving heads of people, and landed precisely on that back about to disappear.

That back...

It was clearly so ordinary, so plain.

But in Yi Qingyue's eyes, it instantly overlapped with that domineering, world-looking-down figure in the depths of her memory.

It... was him!

Yi Qingyue's delicate body trembled violently, and her breathing even stopped.

She subconsciously wanted to call out, but the words to her lips turned into a silent sigh.

Calling him, what could that achieve?

What to say?

The past grievances had long become blurred under the washing of time. And the distance between the two had long become further than heaven and earth.

He was a Dragon above the Nine Heavens, while she was but a koi in a pond.

In this life, they were destined never to cross paths again.

In Yi Qingyue's eyes flashed a complex and hard-to-understand light; there was melancholy, relief, and also a trace of... loneliness that even she herself had not noticed.

She did not make a sound, just quietly watched that back merge into the crowd and disappear.

As if it were just an illusion.

"Boom!"

A loud noise pulled Yi Qingyue's thoughts back.

In the valley, the outcome was decided.

Feng Qingyang seized the moment of Ao Ming's exhaustion and tapped his sword on the armor on his chest.

The sharpness of the sword tip made Ao Ming's whole body stiffen.

He lost.

By one move.

"I lost."

Ao Ming put away his Demonic Qi, his voice a bit hoarse, but he was not very depressed.

Feng Qingyang also sheathed his sword and nodded slightly to Ao Ming.

"You let me win."

His aura was also a bit disordered; clearly, winning was not easy.

The two looked at each other from across the air, not saying another word.

The next moment, Ao Ming turned into a blue stream of light, shot into the sky, and flew straight toward the North Sea direction.

Feng Qingyang bowed to the people on the ridges from afar, and then, also turned into a clear breeze and floated away.

A battle of Prodigies that attracted everyone's attention ended just like that.

And all this, to Chen Zhiwen who had long left, was just an insignificant piece of scenery on his journey.

He did not leave this desolate forbidden zone.

Instead, he walked aimlessly toward the deeper parts.

The deeper he went, the more intense the violent, desolate, and unwilling aura in the air became.

Under his feet, that dark red earth seemed to be silently telling something.

Chen Zhiwen stopped, slowly squatted down, reached out his hand, and gently stroked this cracked earth.

His fingertips seemed to be able to feel the wailing and Battle Intent buried deep in this land, which could not be erased by endless years.

"Here..."

He asked softly in his heart.

In a dead silence, the zhandao sword spirit that had been silent for a long time suddenly made a sound.

This voice slowly echoed in his mind, with an unprecedented solemnity and reminiscence.

"Do you feel it... the dirge of the Ancient Era, the funeral of the epoch..."

"Here is the land of ending."

The sword spirit's words revealed an indescribable heaviness, as if this land carried endless sorrow and pain.

"The final battle of the Ancient Era took place here."

It continued, and in its voice, one could seem to hear the lingering sounds of that earth-shattering and ghost-weeping great battle from back then.

"The Heavenly Gods and demons fell, the emperors of ten thousand races bled... this earth drank the blood of gods and buried the bones of immortals and Buddhas!"

The sword spirit's description was hair-raising, as if one could see that tragic scene back then, countless powerful beings falling here, their blood staining this land red, their bones buried deep underground.