319: Chapter 319 The Primordial Lord

Upon the prayer mat, every strand of the plant-like texture exuded a profound Dao charm of creating all things and deriving the Myriad Heavens and Worlds.

Wisps of vitality were quietly permeating the air, as if this prayer mat itself were a brand-new Universe in the midst of gestation.

At the same time, in front of the Future Body, the flowing light scattered by the ten-colored pagoda and the Dao charm of the World Tree's branches and leaves intertwined, coiled, and condensed, finally forming a more solemn and ancient Dao platform.

Upon the Dao platform, ancient runes flickered in and out of existence, permeating a vast, boundless aura from when the Myriad Heavens first opened and the Grandmist had yet to be judged—as if it had existed since the very beginning of creation, older than time itself, and more distant than the Heavenly Dao.

No words were needed.

Chu Changsheng suppressed the bitter smile at the corner of his mouth and, following the momentum, slowly sat down upon the prayer mat.

The moment he sat down—a stream of Qi, gentle to the extreme, surged from the prayer mat and poured into his body!

It flowed rapidly through his limbs and bones, nourishing his dilapidated Dao foundation, repairing his damaged Divine Soul, and quietly stabilizing this precarious space-time.

Comfortable!

Chu Changsheng almost couldn't help but let out a soft sigh.

This warm, moist sensation welling up from his very bones was like soaking in a ten-thousand-year-old hot spring; every wound was gently wrapped, and every inch of fatigue was softly soothed away.

The Future Body also sat peacefully upon the Dao platform.

Between the two, separated by an invisible barrier of the Void Realm symbolizing "present" and "future," they were nonetheless tightly connected by the same Origin of Dao charm, forming a mysterious field that isolated the inside from the outside.

"What do you want to know?"

The Future Body looked at Chu Changsheng, its voice still ethereal and vast, like a sound from beyond the heavens, yet it carried a hint of gentle guidance—as if it had long since seen through all the doubts in his heart, just waiting for him to ask them aloud.

Chu Changsheng took a deep breath.

A faint but sharp stinging pain came from his chest, yet he seemed not to notice.

He stared intensely at his future self, his eyes full of urgency and yearning, speaking word by word with a desperate determination:

"I want to know, is my fate a chess piece laid out by others?"

After a pause, the urgency in his eyes grew even stronger, and he almost blurted out the second question deeply buried in his heart:

"I want to know... what exactly is the System?"

The Future Body's gaze slightly narrowed.

Deep within its eyes, which shimmered with quiet radiance, it seemed as if an even deeper space-time vortex was quietly rotating.

Within the vortex, fragments of endless space-time and dense threads of Karma were reflected—those threads crisscrossed, weaving a great net that enveloped the Myriad Heavens and bound all things.

And the center of the net pointed directly to him and the "System."

The branches and leaves of the World Tree moved without wind, emitting a soft rustling sound.

In the sound, there was no longer just fatigue, but a layer of heavy, complex contemplation—as if it hid countless unspeakable secrets spanning eternity, causing one's heart to tremble.

"Your questions always point directly to the core."

The Future Body's voice remained ethereal and vast, revealing no joy or anger.

But Chu Changsheng keenly captured that the hint of distant lamentation within it seemed to become more obvious—even carrying a faint, almost reminiscent tone.

As if it were reminiscing about an incomparably distant past filled with blood and tears.

"Regarding the 'System'..."

The Future Body paused slightly, its gaze fixed tightly on Chu Changsheng, as if deliberating over every word to describe this seemingly ordinary yet extremely special existence.

Every word of it exuded extreme caution—as if a single word of difference would trigger earth-shattering changes.

"It is not the cold, unfeeling 'object' or 'rule creation' that you originally perceived."

As the voice fell, the Future Body paused, its gaze becoming even deeper, and explained word by word:

"It is—the World Spirit of the Primordial Ancestral Realm."

After speaking, the Future Body's gaze suddenly became sharp as a knife, staring tightly into Chu Changsheng's eyes, and it said with resounding force, its voice carrying an unquestionable majesty and determination:

"And we are the Taichu Heaven Lord—the absolute Dominator of the Primordial Ancestral Realm! The absolute ruler of the Myriad Heavens and Worlds!"

Boom!!!

The Future Body's words, like a thunderclap from the Nine Heavens, exploded within Chu Changsheng's dilapidated mind!

"World Spirit of the Primordial Ancestral Realm... Taichu Heaven Lord... absolute ruler of the Myriad Heavens and Worlds..."

These three phrases, as if carrying the primordial power of creation, with unimaginable weight and majesty, slammed into his Sea of Consciousness like two archaic stars—

Instantly stirring up boundless turmoil, raising raging waves!

All his previous guesses, all his doubts, and all his unease appeared so pale and insignificant in the face of this absolute truth—like a candle in the wind, instantly extinguished.

World Spirit?

This System that had accompanied him on his rise, guided his cultivation, and tempered his Dao Heart, being both familiar and mysterious—was actually... the World Spirit of an "Ancestral Realm"?

And he himself... was the Heaven Lord of that Ancestral Realm? The absolute Dominator and ruler?!

Chu Changsheng only felt a roaring in his mind.

His dilapidated Dao foundation trembled violently due to this massive impact, nearly collapsing on the spot!

The Qi and blood throughout his body surged ceaselessly, his Meridians felt as if they were splitting inch by inch, and he seemed on the verge of exploding to death at any moment!

The clear Qi prayer mat beneath him seemed to sense his crisis, instantly erupting with brilliant light and flowing with more gentle power, which poured into his body like a tide—barely suppressing his surging Qi and blood, maintaining his mind so it would not completely collapse.

Chu Changsheng felt his throat incredibly dry, as if it had been scorched by fire, making even swallowing extremely difficult.

The countless questions he originally wanted to ask were now stuck in his chest, turning into a blank void—even breathing became incredibly heavy and difficult.

The Future Body watched him quietly.

There was not the slightest surprise on its ethereal and vast face.

It knew what this truth meant for the "self" of this moment—this was a heaven-shaking impact that overturned all previous cognitions, reshaped one's own Origin, and was enough to cause any Cultivator's Dao Heart to collapse.

For a long time. For a long time.

Only then did Chu Changsheng struggle to find his voice from the boundless shock and Chaos.

His voice was hoarse to the point of breaking, as if squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying extreme fatigue and bewilderment:

"Is this path... very difficult?"

"Very difficult!"

The Future Body's two words, spoken with absolute certainty, were like fragments of black iron chiseled from the core of an eternal glacier—carrying a bone-chilling cold that could freeze the Divine Soul, and an unquestionable weight of a thousand jun, slamming into Chu Changsheng's heart.

The last shred of luck was crushed to pieces.

Even a speck of dust could not drift away before it was completely frozen and annihilated by this coldness.

The voice was not loud, yet it seemed to explode like a thunderclap that had been silent for eternity in the void.

Every syllable was as heavy as an archaic sacred mountain, pressing down so that the surrounding space-time collapsed layer by layer—even light stagnated, turning into twisted afterimages.

The prayer mat beneath Chu Changsheng, suffused with clear Qi, actually rippled densely as a result.

The clear Qi, which had originally flowed as gently as spring water, was suddenly brought to a standstill by these two words—as if even the vitality between heaven and earth held its breath at this moment.

The Future Body's eyes, which had once been filled with clear starlight and engraved with the vicissitudes of time, had long since retracted all remoteness and lamentation, leaving only a deathly, calm stillness that was almost cruel.

And beneath that calm, a sea of fire that had burned for endless epochs lay dormant—surging with the iron blood and stern killing intent of one who had traversed mountains of corpses and seas of blood, accustomed to life and death.

That was the cold, hard edge, tempered after thousands of destructions and Rebirths, capable of severing all falsehoods.

It stared fixedly at Chu Changsheng, its gaze as sharp as the first ray of sword light at the beginning of creation—as if to pierce through skin, flesh, and bone, reaching straight to the deepest part of his Soul, forcefully branding this bloody reality onto his Divine Soul Origin.

Undying for eternity. Unwearing for ten thousand years.

Chu Changsheng met that gaze.

The raging waves surging in his heart actually calmed down in an instant.

After the extreme shock came a dead-water silence colder than the abyss—without even a ripple.

He did not ask "how difficult."

Nor did he show the slightest bit of fear or retreat.

Because from those two words of the Future Body, which were simple to the extreme but heavy enough to crush the Myriad Heavens and Worlds—from those eyes that understood the Karma of eternity, he had already "read" too much.

This was a difficulty of despair, where one might not even glimpse a ray of dawn after crossing endless mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and traversing every inch of land in the Myriad Heavens and Worlds.

It was a difficulty of life and death, carrying the Karma and Reincarnation of eternity, with the cold gaze of the ultimate enemy hanging overhead, where every step was like walking on thin ice, and half a step wrong would mean eternal damnation.

It was a difficulty of annihilation, where a moment of carelessness would result in the destruction of his true spirit and the burning of his Divine Soul, unable to even enter Reincarnation.

It was even more so a difficulty of destiny, climbing alone for a lifetime, only to discover in the end that the path ahead had long been severed, with no room to even turn back.

What kind of authority and glory did the status of "Taichu Heaven Lord" bring?

This was clearly a heavy shackle binding the Soul.

It was an immortal sacred mountain that crushed the heroes of eternity.

It was a gamble of nine deaths and one life, where no one could predict the end, and one might not even have the qualification to lose.

He remained silent.

Cracks crisscrossed his dilapidated Dao body, like an ancient celadon porcelain about to shatter.

The clear Qi prayer mat continuously transmitted gentle power, seeping bit by bit into his limbs and bones, slowly repairing those shocking wounds.

But this speed of repair, compared to that understated word "difficult" from the Future Body—was as insignificant as a mayfly shaking a tree, not worth mentioning.

In the air, the "conquest" Dao charm of Feng Tianxia had not yet completely dissipated.

Feeling it now, that Dao charm was no longer just the indomitable tyranny—it added a layer of immersive tragedy and determination.

It was as if one could see thousands of armies breaking through the firmament, blood staining ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers; bones piled into towering mountains, blood flowing into a boundless sea.

Between heaven and earth, there remained only the lament of iron horses and golden spears, and the unwilling roars of dead Souls.

For a long time. For a long time.

Chu Changsheng slowly lowered his eyelids, his gaze falling on his own hands.

Those hands were trembling slightly, but his knuckles were clenched white, veins bulging—as if he had used up all his strength.

The lines on his palms became exceptionally strange at this moment, crisscrossing like an invisible great net.

One end was interwoven with the ordinary past belonging to "Chu Changsheng"—the breeze in the mountains, the bright moon in the forest, the carefree years.

The other end, however, hid the destiny and longitude of the "Taichu Heaven Lord"—the heavy responsibilities, the unavoidable mission, and the blood and rain he was destined to face.

"I understand."

He spoke again.

His voice was still hoarse, as if ground by ten thousand years of wind and sand—yet it strangely suppressed all weak tremors, leaving only a deathly, calm stillness that was almost dried up.

As if he had experienced the vicissitudes of life, seen through the impermanence of the world, and even put life and death aside.