491: Chapter 491: The Deity's Burial in Solitude

Chu Changsheng gazed at the Lord of Burials.

That rotting claw was trembling slightly; even a simple action like hovering seemed beyond its strength.

On the bones of the claw tips, cracks spread rapidly, and a ghostly green light seeped out from the fissures, like fireflies imprisoned for too long that had finally found a gap to escape.

"Taichu."

Its voice had weakened to the extreme; every word was like embers scattered by the wind, vanishing before it could drift far.

Yet, the sincere warmth in that voice was more scorching than ever.

"I know your identity is special."

It paused, as if gathering the strength to speak the next sentence.

"And I also know what that World Tree Manifestation behind you... signifies."

That ghostly green human eye gazed toward the towering World Tree, its pupils reflecting the outline of the giant tree.

In its eyes, the branches and leaves of the World Tree seemed to be burning—not with real fire, but with life force so dense that it transformed into blazing light within those dark pupils.

"You possess the Ancestral Realm Spirit, carry the Luck of Heaven and Earth, and have the qualifications to reach the very end."

It said this sentence very slowly and heavily, as if confirming the weight of every word.

"And this child—"

Its gaze fell back onto the Burial Son.

The young man kneeling on the ground, forehead touching the earth, silent and motionless.

His body was still trembling slightly; beneath his ash-gray skin, ghostly light flowed silently like an underground river.

"He possesses the most special Physique of this era, and also bears the destiny of the entire Burial Clan."

The destiny of the entire Burial Clan.

When spoken from the mouth of the Lord of Burials, it sounded understated, as if stating the most ordinary of things.

But everyone knew that behind this understatement lay the weight of countless lives, the anticipation of countless years, and the faint hope watered by countless amounts of blood.

It paused for a moment.

In that very moment, a gap suddenly opened in the clouds above the rift valley, and a ray of heavenly light descended, falling precisely upon the Lord of Burials' gradually disintegrating body.

The light fell upon the exposed bones, the dense cracks, and the peeling rotting flesh—everything was laid bare in the light, including its ugliness, its decay, and its age.

Yet, it also illuminated its dignity.

"If he were merely an ordinary forbidden Physique, I naturally would not have opened my mouth to ask."

The Lord of Burials' voice suddenly became clearer, like a final burning before life was extinguished.

"But he is different—"

Three words, heavy as a thousand jun.

"Jixu Burial Primordial Spirit Body."

Each word was like a bronze inscription, carrying the rust of history, the vicissitudes of time, and a solemnity that could not be ignored.

"A Physique never before seen by Heaven and Earth, a singular body in all the ages."

Its tone became increasingly solemn, so solemn that every word seemed squeezed from the depths of its Divine Soul, carrying an unquestionable certainty.

"Such a Physique—"

It paused again.

In that ghostly green human eye, the last bit of light suddenly became blinding, bright enough to almost scorch the eyes.

"Is sufficient to match the requirements of the Ancestral Realm Spirit."

As these words left its mouth, the entire scorched earth trembled slightly.

It was not an earthquake, but a deeper resonance—as if some ancient existence deep within the earth had given a silent response at this moment.

The Lord of Burials' gaze fell once more upon the World Tree Manifestation behind Chu Changsheng.

"I can tell—"

Its voice suddenly softened, so soft that it did not seem possible for an existence that had rotted for eons to possess.

The tone contained awe, carried emotion, and held a sigh that was almost poetic.

"That World Tree behind you symbolizes life, order, and the rules of Heaven and Earth."

Its gaze slowly shifted to the Burial Son.

"And this child's Physique—"

The voice paused slightly.

"Symbolizes the Void Realm and annihilation, disorder and the end."

When these two descriptions were placed side by side, the air in the rift valley seemed to freeze.

Life and death, order and Chaos, creation and destruction—these forces should have been incompatible, should have been irreconcilable.

But the words the Lord of Burials said next made everyone who heard them fall into an even deeper silence.

"The two appear to be opposites, but in reality, they are mutually generative and mutually complementary."

A mere eight words, understated, yet like a key, opening a door that no one had ever noticed.

"If he takes you as his master, you can use the World Tree Manifestation as a guide, and your own Dao as a foundation—"

Its voice grew softer and softer, yet every word seemed to be branded into the air like a hot iron, impossible to shake off.

"And you will be able to guide his Physique onto the correct path."

Its tone became increasingly sincere, so sincere it was almost humble.

"He will become your sharpest sword, and also your sturdiest shield."

After saying this, the Lord of Burials spoke no more.

It was waiting.

Waiting for Chu Changsheng's answer.

The Burial Son knelt in place, head bowed, not saying a word.

But his body was trembling—not from fear, not from cold, but from an emotion mixed with anticipation, bewilderment, and determination, like threads of different colors tightly twisted together, tightening around his heart.

Anticipation—anticipating that Chu Changsheng would nod.

Bewilderment—bewilderment that Chu Changsheng would refuse.

Determination—regardless of whether Chu Changsheng agreed or not, he was already prepared to walk this path alone.

He understood the profound meaning of the Ancestor.

Thoroughly, without missing a single detail.

This was not just paving a path for him—it was finding a mountain for the entire Burial Clan.

A mountain that, after the Ancestor dissipated, could still protect the descendants from falling.

And Chu Changsheng—

This Reincarnation who possessed the Ancestral Realm Spirit, the World Tree Manifestation, and carried the Luck of Heaven and Earth—

Was the only candidate in the Ancestor's eyes.

The only one.

The Burial Son knew the weight of those two words better than anyone.

Because it meant that in the Ancestor's long life, among the countless Prodigies, the myriad of powerhouses, and all the brilliant existences it had seen—

Only Chu Changsheng had caught its eye.

Only Chu Changsheng made it feel that it could entrust him.

Only Chu Changsheng made it willing to lay down all the pride belonging to an Ancestor and utter the words "I implore you."

The Lord of Burials continued to speak.

But its voice was as weak as a candle in the wind, every word like thin mist about to dissipate.

"Taichu, I know you do not need him."

This sentence was said so candidly, so candidly that it stripped away all ornamentation and concealment.

Just like a person about to pass away when arranging their affairs, shedding all disguises, leaving only a naked heart.

"You are already the most special existence of this era; taking a Disciple is merely adding flowers to a brocade for you."

Its voice paused slightly.

That rotting claw slowly dropped, the claw tips tracing through the air, leaving behind black trails like ink marks.

The trails lingered in the air for an instant, then, like ink dripped into still water, slowly diffused and gradually faded away.

"But I still implore you—"

Implore.

The moment this word was spoken, the Burial Son's body shuddered violently, as if pierced through the spine by an ice pick.

An Ancestor.

An ancient existence who had lived through long ages.

A powerhouse who had once stood at the peak of Heaven and Earth, looking down upon all living things.

Was saying "implore."

"Grant me this favor—"

Its voice was as light as a whisper.

"And give him a chance."

The last five words were so soft they were almost silent.

Yet the sincerity, humble to the point of dust, was more deafening than any shout.

That rotting claw finally dropped to its lowest point.

The moment the claw tips touched the ground, a very soft "tap" sound was emitted.

The sound was extremely faint, but in this moment in the rift valley, it was like a thunderclap—because it meant the Lord of Burials had exhausted even the remaining strength to lift its claw.

"I stake the... final dignity of the Burial Clan as a guarantee—"

Final dignity.

When those five words were spoken, they carried a heartbreaking heaviness.

Because "final" meant that from then on, the Burial Clan would have no more dignity to stake.

This was the final bargaining chip, the final reliance, the last piece of pride it could bring out.

"This kid... will absolutely not disappoint you."

Its tone suddenly became incomparably certain, so certain there was no room for maneuver.

"His talent, his Physique, his determination—"

Three words, three pauses, three emphases.

"Are all sufficient for him to become one of your most outstanding Disciples."

Upon finishing, the rift valley fell into complete silence.

The wind stopped.

The stones stopped.

Even the sound of the Lord of Burials' body disintegrating disappeared—not because the disintegration had stopped, but because its remaining shell had nothing left to disintegrate.

Chu Changsheng was silent.

He quietly watched everything before him.

An Ancestor about to dissipate—

Its body had already disintegrated for the most part, leaving only the head, torso, and half an arm, struggling to maintain its shape.

The exposed bones were covered in cracks, ghostly green light seeping from the fissures, dimmer and weaker, as if counting down to the end.

A Young Lord kneeling and imploring—

The Burial Son knelt in the scorched earth, forehead pressed to the ground, ten fingers dug deep into the soil.

His body trembled slightly, ghostly light flowing beneath his ash-gray skin, as if he were weeping silently.

His back was no longer straight, but bent like a bow—a fully drawn bow, with an arrow named "Destiny" nocked on the string, and no one knew where it would be shot.

A rift valley on the verge of collapse—

The sky above the rift valley was shattering, the ash-white clouds torn open with gaps, revealing the pitch-black spatial fissures behind them.

The earth was trembling, the surface of the scorched earth blooming with countless fine cracks, spreading in all directions like a spiderweb.

The air was filled with the aura of the end, cold, desolate, and permeated with the scent of the end of all things.

This was a promise.

It was also a heavy burden.

Chu Changsheng's gaze shifted from the Lord of Burials to the Burial Son, then back to the Lord of Burials.

His expression did not change much, but the deep, dark light in his eyes had clearly calmed down, calm as an ancient well without waves, its bottom invisible.

He understood what taking a Disciple meant.

The Burial Son was no ordinary Prodigy.

He carried a forbidden Physique—the Jixu Burial Primordial Spirit Body, merging the powers of the Void Realm and annihilation, a body never before seen by Heaven and Earth.

If such a Physique were to lose control, the consequences would be unimaginable.

But if it could be guided onto the correct path, its achievements would be immeasurable.

He bore the Luck of a clan—the ten-thousand-year wish of the Burial Clan, the Opportunity exchanged by the Ancestor burning away its life, and the expectations of all the departed clansmen, all pressed onto his shoulders alone.

Taking him as a Disciple meant that Chu Changsheng would become the most solid mountain for the Burial Clan.

It meant that from then on, the rise and fall, honor and disgrace of the Burial Clan would all be tied to Chu Changsheng.

Any hostility directed at this clan would become Chu Changsheng's enemy.

Any force wishing to destroy this clan would first have to cross over Chu Changsheng's body.

This responsibility—

Was very heavy.

Heavy as a mountain.

But Chu Changsheng also knew—

This responsibility also meant a greater karmic Opportunity.

The Burial Son's Physique—that forbidden existence merging the Void Realm and death—if he could guide it onto the correct path, if he could make the life force of the World Tree and the annihilation force of the Jixu Burial Primordial Spirit Body reach a certain balance, if he could twist these two diametrically opposed forces into one—

Then, the Burial Son would become his strongest support.

Not one of.

The strongest.

Furthermore, in a sense, this also aligned with his Dao—

Using the World Tree Manifestation as a root to encompass all phenomena and balance life and death.

Life and death, order and Chaos, creation and destruction—these seemingly opposing forces, at a higher level, were originally two sides of the same coin.

Like day and night, like spring and autumn, like the inhalation and exhalation of breath—without death, life loses its meaning; without disorder, order becomes stagnation.

Taking the Burial Son as a Disciple was not charity, not pity, and not even a transaction—

But a choice.

A choice leading to a higher place.

A moment of silence.

The silence was like a fully drawn bow, the string taut to the extreme, the air filled with silent tension.

Every instant was stretched out, every breath seemed to be frozen into amber.

The Lord of Burials' body was still disintegrating, but the speed had clearly slowed—not because its strength had returned, but because there was not much left.

Its head had already disintegrated for the most part, with only the left half of its face barely maintaining its shape.

That ghostly green human eye remained, but the light had dimmed to the extreme, like a lonely lamp with its oil running out, ready to be extinguished at any moment.

The Burial Son knelt in place, motionless.

His forehead was pressed tight against the scorched earth, his ten fingers dug deep into the ground.

His breathing was extremely light and slow, as if afraid of disturbing something.

But his heartbeat was extremely fast—so fast that even from several feet away, one could hear those rapid, heavy heartbeats, like the beating of war drums.

He was waiting.

Waiting with all his patience, all his dignity, and all his future.

Finally—

Chu Changsheng spoke.

"I understand."

Three words.

The voice was not high, the tone was calm, as if merely confirming one thing.

Yet within those three words, there was an unquestionable certainty—a certainty that did not stem from power, did not stem from Realm, but from something more fundamental in the depths of the Divine Soul.

That thing is called the Dao Heart.

In the Lord of Burials' ghostly green eyes, the last bit of light suddenly brightened for an instant.

It was not the final flare of a dying life.

It was hope.

"Your intention—"

Chu Changsheng's gaze fell onto the Burial Son, onto that young man kneeling on the ground, forehead touching the scorched earth, body trembling slightly.

In his gaze, there was no condescending look from above, no pity of a benefactor, and not even any superfluous emotion.

He was just watching calmly and candidly.

"I have understood."

Four words.

Understated, yet heavy as a thousand jun.

Because what he had understood was not just the Lord of Burials' words—

What he had understood was the ten-thousand-year struggle of a clan, the final plea of an Ancestor, and all the pride and unwillingness of a young man when he knelt on the ground.

What he had understood was that invisible yet suffocatingly heavy destiny pressing down on the Burial Son's shoulders.

And he chose—

To take it up.

It was not charity, not a transaction, and not even a promise.

But something much deeper.