387: Chapter 387 Dominating the World

"This… what on earth is this…"

A Great Sage of the Yao Race suddenly widened his eyes, which were as large as copper bells, his Demonic Qi in disarray, his voice permeated with a tremor of disbelief.

"Inside the Secret Realm… observed by all races… nothing hidden throughout the entire process!"

An ancient Demon Venerable of the Demon Race, shrouded in deep demonic mist, whispered hoarsely, his tone filled with shock, gravity, and greed, complex to the extreme.

Within the Human Race camp, the gazes of Elder Jiang and the Xuantian Sect Ancestor suddenly collided.

Deep within their eyes, there was surging, extreme shock, as well as a trace of belated realization.

This move by the Shangqing Secret Realm was no longer a simple trial or selection.

It was fundamentally intended to let the younger generation engage in bloody slaughter and life-and-death struggles within, and furthermore, to expose the entire process of this slaughter—every Opportunity, every battle, every choice, every death—nakedly before the eyes of all races!

This was long ago no longer just simple Gu cultivation.

This was to take the path of the birth of the "Gu King," and with every blade mark, every drop of blood, and every bone, forcibly brand it into the depths of the memories of all races, establishing the Supreme authority and destiny of the future Supreme!

"Quiet."

It was unknown who gave a low shout, or perhaps there was no need for a reminder at all.

Outside the Secret Realm, which had originally been filled with commotion, exclamations, discussions, and gasps due to this heaven-shaking change, the massive aura formed by the gathering of top powerhouses from all races suddenly plunged into a deathly silence within just a few breaths.

A pin could be heard if it dropped.

Every gaze, regardless of whether it belonged to the Human Race, Yao Race, Demon Race, Spirit Race, Sea Race, Ghost Race, or Asura…

Regardless of whether they harbored anticipation, calculation, coldness, worry, or bloodlust, at this moment, they were all uniformly and fixedly nailed to that giant light screen spanning the firmament, nailed to those thousands of endlessly flowing split-screen images.

Tension, anticipation, anxiety, coldness, calculation, greed, Killing Intent… various emotions crazily intertwined, collided, and boiled in silence, yet there was no longer the slightest clamor.

A Sea Race Dragon Emperor had dragon eyes like torches, locking tightly onto one light screen—in the image, a dragon-descendant prince of his race was confronting and fighting a descendant of a Black Tortoise amidst raging waves. His dragon claw unconsciously clenched slightly, and the Void Realm was instantly crushed into fine cracks.

A Light King of the Spirit Race, with soft light flowing around him, yet hiding a sharpness that could pierce through everything, fixed his gaze on a place where pure elemental energy gathered—the most talented Spirit child of his race was holding his breath and exploring with careful steps.

The mental fluctuations of the Insect Race Mother Empress swept over the thousands of light screens like a tide, instantly locking onto hundreds of images representing Insect Race warriors and mages, her compound eyes flashing with cold and efficient calculation light, every ripple evaluating life, death, and value.

Deep within the surging ghost mist, the Ghost Emperor's gaze was like a cold lamp in the nether prison, seemingly able to pierce through the light screen, looking toward the Nine Nether regions where ghosts wailed—the Ghost Race successor he had chosen was crazily devouring remnant souls to strengthen himself.

The Asura Battle Venerable stood with arms crossed, his scarlet eyes sweeping over several scenes where bloody battles had erupted, the corners of his mouth slowly curling into a cruel and satisfied arc—as if he were enjoying a feast most to his liking.

On the Human Race side, the Elders and Sect Masters of the various Holy Lands and ancient Sects were holding their breath, their heartstrings taut, their gazes like lightning, frantically searching for the figures of their own Disciples among the thousands of split screens.

Some saw their Disciples cautiously sneaking and temporarily avoiding the sharp edge, slightly relaxing, yet still not daring to be careless.

Some saw their Disciples already fighting others, Spiritual light colliding, and their hearts instantly leapt into their throats.

Still others searched everywhere but could not find them, their hearts sinking, their complexions turning pale as paper bit by bit.

The gaze of the Xuantian Sect Ancestor finally settled heavily on one light screen.

There, a youth in green robes, carrying an ancient sword on his back with an expression as cold as ice, stood alone on the peak of a desolate sword hill.

Broken swords all around chimed softly, and the Sword Qi of heaven and earth spontaneously circled—as if in worship, as if in awe.

Deep within the Old Ancestor's eyes, a trace of imperceptible approval flashed, only to be quickly covered by a layer of heavy worry.

Elder Jiang, with a gaze as deep as an abyss, slowly scanned the various images, lingering for a long time especially on those dangerous areas where the aura was mixed and geniuses from multiple races suddenly encountered each other.

He saw the entrance to an ancient ruin where several geniuses from different races arrived almost simultaneously, their eyes confronting each other, Killing Intent surging in the dark, ready to break out at any moment.

He saw a heaven-sent Spirit Medicine garden where figures were already crazily fighting, Spirit light soaring into the sky, and blood splashing down.

He saw that before a deep and dark ancient cave, some hesitated to move forward, while others resolutely rushed in…

Every scene was an Opportunity, and also a lethal tribulation. Every step was a climb to heaven, and also a fall into the abyss.

Inside the Secret Realm, time seemed to be accelerated by an invisible hand, or perhaps the space-time of the Secret Realm was inherently vastly different from the outside world.

The scenes on the light screens changed rapidly: some obtained Spiritual Plants and exotic fruits, their Qi surging violently.

Some encountered Vicious Beast ambushes and fought tragically; some discovered ancient Immortal Caves with Dao charm rushing to their faces; and even more… had already fallen.

A split screen dimmed without warning, and then with a "crack," it shattered, turning into dots of light filling the sky and dissipating without a trace.

This meant that the young Prodigy corresponding to that light screen had their flame of life completely extinguished within the Secret Realm.

This scene caused the powerhouse of the race watching him from the outside world to tremble violently, perhaps letting out a suppressed low roar, or a silent cry—but more often, it was just an increasingly cold silence.

Competition began from the very first moment of stepping into the Secret Realm.

Death, too, followed like a shadow from the very first moment.

"Ten years of time in the Secret Realm…"

Elder Jiang looked at the life-and-death speed and cruel elimination already playing out on the light screen, his voice low and weathered as he muttered to himself:

"And in this outside world, how long would that be?"

No one answered. Nor did anyone have the heart to answer.

Everyone's mind was already completely immersed in this magnificent scroll composed of thousands of life-and-death battles and intertwined fates.

Ten thousand races contending, Prodigies fighting in blood.

The true cruelty was not just in the flesh-and-blood fighting within the Secret Realm, but even more so outside this Secret Realm, under the collective gaze of all races—

The face of the race, the Luck of the Prodigies, the rise and fall of the Sects, the future landscape… all were being slowly pushed toward an unknown and bloody endgame in this silent "Heavenly Dao broadcast."

Above the firmament, the giant light screen floated quietly, reflecting the struggles and glory of the various Prodigies, and also reflecting the varied faces of the powerhouses of all races.

Some were ecstatic, some grave, some cold, some sorrowful.

An unprecedented, Supreme "viewing ceremony" with heaven and earth as the seat and all races as the spectators—just in this deathly silence that was suffocatingly strange and heart-stoppingly magnificent—was silently continuing.

The rosy light at the entrance of the Secret Realm still flowed slowly, neither sad nor happy, neither angry nor resentful—like the Heavenly Dao, indifferent, watching the occurrence, conclusion, and Rebirth of all this.

Just in this deathly silence where all races held their breath, heaven and earth were solemn, and even the Dao was silenced—

Chu Changsheng slowly raised his eyes.

His gaze was light and faint, like flowing clouds brushing across the Nine Heavens, like a cool breeze sweeping across eternity.

Although it was clearly just a casual glance, it precisely pierced through the thousands of slaughtering, blood-splattered, and shimmering split-screen light curtains, reaching straight into the depths of the Origin.

His eyes were calm and waveless, as deep as an ancient well from eternity, as dim and vast as Chaos before it opened.

This Secret Realm broadcast before him, which was enough to make the Supremes of the heavens surge with emotion and make the powerhouses of all races tremble and be moved—to him, was nothing more than morning mist and evening clouds, flowers blooming and falling, as ordinary as could be.

Suddenly, that gaze, as indifferent as heaven and earth, paused imperceptibly.

Three split screens, among the thousands of mediocre ones, were like three Grandmist divine lamps lit when Chaos first opened, with clear and transcendent auras, and Dao charm that was extraordinary, vastly different from all mortal Prodigies—naturally, they struck into his eyes.

The first split screen: A strange space where Chaos had not yet separated and Yin and Yang had just been judged.

Light and darkness, like two ancient fish chasing each other's tails, slowly swirled, evolving into an eternal, ceaseless, and ever-living Taiji Dao scene.

In the center of the scene, a young man sat cross-legged peacefully. His plain white Daoist robe was unstained by a speck of dust, his long hair tied up simply with an ancient wooden hairpin, his face so handsome that he hardly seemed like a person of the mortal world.

Beneath his skin, the Yin and Yang Qi faintly circulated, warm and moist like flawless immortal jade, yet hiding a wisdom and indifference that understood the Origin of heaven and earth.

His eyes were lightly closed, his left hand holding a pure Yang blazing sun in the void, his right hand lightly pressing on a pool of profound Yin cold water.

The phenomenon of the Taiji Yin-Yang Divine Body that shook eternity around his body was no longer an external display of sharp edges, but was restrained within every breath and every movement, every action and every stillness.

It was as if he himself was the embodiment of the Dao, the Incarnation of Yin and Yang—the Dao Ancestor walking in the human world.

— — This person was none other than the eldest Disciple under Chu Changsheng, Xuanyuan Zhanxian.

The second split screen: The peak of an ancient parasol tree that pierced through heaven and earth and had survived for who knows how many ancient ages.

Divine fire raged, burning the firmament, yet without a shred of violent or destructive intent, instead filled with the holy Dao charm of Nirvana, Rebirth, and eternal indestructibility.

In the center of the flames, a woman as beautiful as an immortal stood barefoot. She wore a feather garment woven from seven-colored flowing clouds, her dark hair falling like the Milky Way, swaying lightly in the sky-burning divine fire—not a strand of hair damaged, her skin flawless.

Her appearance was peerless, her features picturesque, her temperament cold and aloof, like a Nine Heavens mysterious maiden descending to the mortal world. Yet deep within her eyes, she hid a scorching heat and Supreme nobility originating from the Origin of life.

She did not deliberately release a shred of pressure, but that ancient aura naturally revealed, of living as long as heaven and earth and shining as brightly as the sun and moon, and the occasional glimpse of seven-colored Divine Phoenix True Fire flashing in her eyes when she opened them, capable of burning away the filth of the heavens and Nirvana-ing all things—all declared:

This was the legendary Undying Divine Phoenix Body, an Innate holy being, rare throughout the ages.

— — This person was none other than the second Disciple under Chu Changsheng, Jian Tanghuang.

The third split screen: Deep within an ancient, primitive mountain range where Vicious Beasts ran rampant.

Dragon Qi steamed like a sea of clouds, and the earth veins surged like dragons and snakes. At the peak of a cliff, a figure who seemed like an ancient True Dragon descending to the world, suppressing the Nine Heavens and Ten Lands, stood proudly.

Bare-chested, the muscles on his bronze skin were knotted like a coiled True Dragon—every inch of the lines contained the terrifying power to destroy stars and lift mountains.

Beneath his skin, dark golden mysterious dragon scale patterns flickered with his breathing, flowing with the Supreme Bloodline of the ancient Dragon God.

His face was resolute as if forged from divine iron, his sword-like eyebrows reaching his temples, his starry eyes containing might, his head of black hair wild and disheveled, moving without wind.

His blood Qi soared to the heavens, his dragon might covering the world—just standing there, the surrounding Void Realm let out a wail under the unbearable pressure, and the earth beneath his feet vibrated and rumbled with his heartbeat.

He stood with his arms crossed, looking down upon the valley below.