242: Chapter 237 What can we use to resist?

As soon as these words were spoken, the world seemed to fall into a dead silence. The howling cold wind felt as if it were being strangled by an invisible force, and the ice and snow that had accumulated for eons seemed to stop breathing at this very moment.

Everyone present—be they prestigious Great Grandmasters with hearts of iron or Imperial Lords who wielded regional power and looked down upon all living beings—were top figures who had emerged from mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and None were not accustomed to the storms of the world.

Their hearts had long been tempered by time to be as hard as ten-thousand-year-old profound ice.

Yet at this moment, they, with None being the exception, saw their expressions change drastically; their ice-like composure was as fragile as thin paper before Chen Zhiwen's words, torn to shreds in an instant!

They could all clearly hear an unprecedented gravity in Chen Zhiwen's nearly emotionless tone—a deep sorrow as if he had already seen the final end yet was powerless to change it.

This was no longer a guess or a warning, but a... sentence.

This matter was likely ten thousand times more serious and ten thousand times more cruel than any worst-case scenario they could have imagined!

In the Extreme Southern Land, the howling cold wind seemed to become even more bone-chilling.

Everyone looked at the increasingly hideous Void Realm crack in the sky, which looked as if it could drip crimson blood at any moment, and then at Chen Zhiwen's face, which was as heavy as iron. An indescribable chill frantically sprouted and spread from the depths of everyone's Soul, making them feel as if they had fallen into the ice caves of the Nine Serenities.

This was no longer a suitable place for conversation.

The scar hanging in the sky was like a mocking eye, looking down at them as if they were ants about to be devoured.

"Return to the Great Yu Imperial Capital," Zheng Ming decided immediately. His voice was incredibly hoarse, breaking the suffocating silence.

He forcibly suppressed the stormy waves in his heart, maintaining the final composure of a monarch.

Everyone nodded silently; no one said another word. At this moment, any words seemed pale and powerless. They turned into streaks of light and, with unprecedentedly heavy hearts, left the Extreme Southern Land that had witnessed the world's wound, returning at top speed to the main hall of the Great Yu Dynasty's imperial palace.

The heavy palace doors closed slowly with a "rumble," completely cutting off all the noise and light from the outside world. It was as if the dozens of people inside the hall were isolated from the entire world, forming an island shrouded in the shadow of despair.

Inside the hall, hundreds of luminous pearls emitted a soft glow, lighting the hall as bright as day, yet they could not dispel the gloom on everyone's faces. Instead, the light only made their pale faces, furrowed brows, and the deep-seated terror in their eyes even clearer.

Everyone's gaze was fixed intently on Chen Zhiwen.

They were waiting for the ultimate truth.

Under the gazes that almost caused the air to solidify, Chen Zhiwen finally spoke.

He hid nothing and added no embellishments, using a nearly numb, matter-of-fact tone to recount everything he had experienced in the depths of the black mist and all the conversations he had with The Creator who called himself "Xuanji Daoren."

From the cruel truth that "the world is a cauldron and all living beings are medicine," to Xuanji Daoren's insane plan to harvest early for healing, to the other's unfathomable and terrifying Spirit Transformation Realm cultivation, and that statement full of contempt and mockery calling them "ants"...

Every word and every sentence was like a heartless, ten-thousand-ton hammer, ruthlessly smashing against the Divine Soul of everyone in the hall, crushing their lifelong perceptions, beliefs, pride, and dignity into pieces!

After Chen Zhiwen finished the last word, the entire grand hall fell into a deathly silence.

One could hear a pin drop.

Only the sound of their heavy and erratic breathing rose and fell in the empty hall, like the final gasps of the dying.

Every face was filled with the same expression—extreme shock, incomprehensible absurdity, and the blankness that follows the sudden collapse of faith. Ultimately, all these complex emotions converged and settled into a bottomless... despair.

Who were they?

They were the existences at the very peak of Huangzhou's cultivation world! They were Great Grandmasters revered by billions! They were supreme experts who held the power over life and death, whose words were law! Each of them had their own legends and glory; they were the trendsetters of this era, The Creators of history, and the goals that countless Cultivators looked up to their entire lives!

Yet now, someone had told them in the cruelest way that everything they had fought for, everything they cherished, and everything they took pride in... was all a complete joke!

They were merely "nourishment" kept in someone's Divine Treasury! They were "Spirit Medicine" waiting to be harvested for healing!

Even this Huangzhou Continent where they were born, grew up, and spent their lives protecting—this vast and boundless world—was merely an illusory cage created by someone's Cultivation Technique!

Furthermore, there were four other worlds just like their Huangzhou! And those four worlds, along with the billions of Souls within them, had already been... refined alive by that devil!

This truth was ten thousand times more cruel than the heavens collapsing or the end of the world! It fundamentally denied the meaning of their existence, casting them down from high-and-mighty Dominators to the most humble and pitiful of captive livestock!

Although they had not seen this so-called Xuanji Daoren with their own eyes, from Chen Zhiwen's brief descriptions, they could clearly feel how terrifying and... invincible that existence was!

Creating worlds, regarding sentient beings as ants, the Spirit Transformation Realm...

That was a god-like level of life that completely transcended their cognition!

How could they win?

How could they resist?

With what could they resist?!

When your enemy is the "God" who created the world you live in, all your struggles appear so pale and weak, so ridiculous and tragic.

For a moment, everyone's heart was completely filled with a grey emotion called "despair." It was a suffocating helplessness where no light could be seen, and even the strength to struggle was stripped away.

The atmosphere in the hall was oppressive to the extreme.

A long, long time later...

"Is... Is there... really... no way at all to stop this?"

Zheng Ming, who was usually steady and majestic, now spoke with an uncontrollable tremble. The color had drained from his well-maintained face, leaving it deathly pale. His eyes were bloodshot with despair, and in this instant, he seemed to have aged decades.