529: Chapter 529 Silent Submission

The dark-gold creation jade disc.

This was a color that transcended words—neither gold nor black, yet it fused the very essence of gold and black.

It possessed a deeper Foundation than the heaviest dark gold and contained more divine light than the densest ink-black.

It was as if all the night sky after the vast starry firmament had been extinguished was melted into a single furnace, then quenched with the undying true blood that had flowed through the Void Clan for eternity, finally solidifying into a supreme substance named "dark gold."

This luster belonged exclusively to the authority of the end; it was deep enough to devour one's gaze and heavy enough to resemble a miniature Universe collapsing in on itself.

The creation jade disc was only the size of a palm, perfectly round and flawless, implicitly embodying the meaning of the Dao being both simplest and most complete.

Its edges were by no means smooth; instead, they were densely covered with inscriptions as fine as hair yet deep as chasms—these were the most ancient forbidden scripts passed down by the Void Clan, the final tombstones and epitaphs of the Laws of the Heavenly Dao in an era long since annihilated.

Every winding stroke was the manifestation of the Dao traces left behind after a Heavenly Lord had fallen; they were the final imprints of their existence, as well as the weapons and Foundations inherited by later generations to wage war.

Thousands upon thousands of overlapping lines roared silently of the countless worlds this race had trampled and the billions of civilizations they had buried.

The surface of the disc was as smooth as the most extreme ink-colored crystal, yet it did not reflect external objects.

Once one's gaze touched it, they would feel as if they had fallen into an abyss, seeing nothing but an absolute, writhing darkness.

Deep within the darkness, indescribable, colossal silhouettes slowly drifted—these were the shadows of the "existences" of the heavens that had been devoured and sealed by the jade disc, the remnants of "concepts" left behind after the collapse of the Dao; they were blurred, chaotic, and filled with an ominous sense of finality, like ancient gods coiled at the end of all things, eternally whispering the delirious murmurs of extinction.

Lord Jixing extended his hand, his five fingers steadily reaching toward the floating jade disc.

The moment his fingertips touched the body of the disc—

"Hum——!!!"

It was not an ordinary sound, but a roar that struck directly at the essence of existence and shook the roots of the myriad Daos!

The dark-gold flames were no longer just "surging out"; they erupted from the core of the jade disc like a volcano of the end that had been suppressed for eternal epochs, violently bursting forth like a broken dam!

The flames instantly engulfed his arm, then spread over his entire body like a living creature; it was no longer a gentle wrapping, but an infusion accompanied by a near-tyrannical and irresistible brand!

The Dao rhyme halos around him exploded and reconstructed with a boom!

Three layers fissioned into five!

Beyond the original three halos of Slaughter, Destruction, and Void, two more ancient, dimmer halos that seemed to originate from before the Primordial Beginning descended violently—

One layer had a color like the primordial darkness before Chaos was divided, churning with the ultimate Dao rhyme that caused all things to "return to silence."

The other layer was as faint as the first shadow cast when the Primordial Beginning was opened, flowing with the absolute Law that caused all memories and meanings to be "forgotten."

The five halos intersected and rotated, resonating with each other, emitting a grand funeral song as deep as trillions of worlds entering their end simultaneously!

His aura began to climb frantically.

This was not healing, nor was it recovery; it was a predatory superposition and a forced Fusion!

Within the creation jade disc, the fragments of Dao traces left behind by the supreme powerhouses of the Void Clan throughout history were thoroughly awakened, transforming into the purest and most overbearing Void Origin, violently crashing into, filling, and imprinting themselves into his Dao Foundation.

Every Fusion of fragments made the dark-gold flames around him burn more intensely, made those five halos solidify into something tangible, and made the sense of "Void" in his black eyes become more absolute, colder, and more despair-inducing.

This was the most extreme Legacy of the Void Clan, a forbidden authority that only the First Heavenly Lord, recognized by the Dao traces of all the deceased, could wield when the clan faced the threat of true extinction.

It carried not only power but also the destiny of the entire race's continuation and the crown that bestowed the end upon all things.

At this moment, Lord Jixing had utilized it.

Not because Lu Changzhi still posed a threat—that nearly transparent body of light, about to scatter with the wind, was the best proof.

But because... he was tired.

Tired of the struggles that, in this pursuit spanning eternal ages, seemed hopeless each time yet always managed to reignite from the ashes.

Tired of that faint spark of fire called "hope," and the stubborn light of resistance it emitted, which made his very essence feel dazzled and nauseated.

He wanted to wipe all of this clean—along with all the traces, memories, and possibilities represented by the name "Lu Changzhi"—thoroughly, from all dimensions and concepts.

Leaving no room whatsoever, giving no chance for any "accidents" to arise again.

The creation jade disc accelerated its rotation in his palm, emitting a low hum that was faint yet sufficient to shatter ordinary Divine Souls.

At the gruesome sword wound on his chest, the final remnants of the brilliant sword radiance and piercing Sword Intent belonging to Fulong and the Ancestral Sword were forcefully squeezed and stripped away by the absolute power of the five halos, turning into two strands of incredibly beautiful, tragic, thin smoke.

They seemed to possess a final spark of sentience, shrieking as they attempted to escape, but in an instant, they were swallowed, assimilated, and returned to eternal Void by the far more vast dark-gold flames.

His aura soared all the way, passing the trough of severe injury, rushing past the Peak of his prime, and finally slowing to a halt at a level that caused the surrounding Void Realm to spontaneously collapse and wail—approximately seventy percent of his perfect state.

He voluntarily stopped the Fusion. Not because he could not continue, but because there was no need.

Seventy percent of his power was more than enough to crush this fading ember before him, and it appeared even more composed.

What he wanted was not an ostentatious crushing, but a precise, efficient, and painless end.

Like using the sharpest blade in the world to calmly and unhurriedly sever the last transparent thread maintaining a life.

Not far away, Lord Zangxing stared fixedly at that dark-gold jade disc, greed and jealousy almost congealing into substance churning within his single eye.

That radiance, that authority, that form symbolizing a supreme status—all were scorching his Soul, stirring up a near-maniacal desire for possession.

But deep in his marrow, a cold rationality prevailed even more.

This was a taboo he could not touch, an insurmountable chasm engraved deep within his Bloodline and Dao lineage—

He, Zangxing, a "latecomer" who had only managed to ascend to a high position after the Great Ancient God-Martial Catastrophe by relying on ruthless opportunism, would never be truly acknowledged by those ancient Dao traces sleeping deep within time.

The poisonous fire of greed was forcibly extinguished, transformed into an even more sinister and cold resolve.

He still had his own trump card; although incomplete and dangerous, it was enough to vent his anger, enough to let him personally taste and fully enjoy the ultimate sweetness of this final chapter of revenge.

With his only remaining right arm, he reached out, trembling yet with absolute determination, toward the deepest part of that dark-red vortex that was about to completely dissipate due to his exhaustion of power.

"dao-burying halberd... Kill!!!"

He roared, his voice distorted and changed by extreme urgency and greed; it did not sound like a solemn summoning, but more like the unwilling, heart-rending death-call of a dying beast.

Compared to Lord Jixing's tone, which was as calm as the judgment of the Heavenly Dao, his call was soaked in desperate madness and hysteria.

The dark-red vortex twitched and spasmed violently, as if a living entity with a sense of pain was struggling desperately to resist.

At the darkest core of the vortex, that phantom of the dao-burying halberd, which had always remained silent, began to struggle and twist.

It was not being "summoned" forth; it was more like it was being forcibly dragged and torn out from a viscous, filthy swamp of flesh and blood by a desperate, reckless brute force!

With every inch it revealed, the blood-colored vortex dimmed and shrank by a circle; Lord Zangxing's already broken and ragged Divine Soul body also trembled and twisted violently in tandem; the dark-red light-fluid overflowing from the corners of his mouth was like weeping blood, continuous and unending.

The moment that phantom halberd, covered in spiderweb-like fatal cracks, finally completely broke free from the shackles of the vortex—

"Puchi!"

The dark-red vortex, like a rotten heart being pierced, exploded and dissipated silently, turning into sky-filling, drifting, rotten, blood-red light dust, completely annihilated without a trace.

Lord Zangxing spat out a large mouthful of Origin light-fluid, his aura suddenly withering as if he might dissipate at any moment, but the light in his single eye was terrifyingly bright, maddeningly bright.

He gripped the phantom of the long halberd, which was between existence and non-existence, translucent, and covered in terrifying cracks.

This was not the real dao-burying halberd; this supreme weapon of slaughter had long since completely shattered in the Great Ancient War.

This was merely its last trace of undying "burial-extinction" Dao rhyme, combined with his own burning Origin, forcibly condensed—a phantom blade of revenge!

On the body of the halberd, those patterns symbolizing burial, decay, and the end were writhing violently like resurrected parasites, emitting an extreme aura of evil that caused the Divine Souls of living beings to spontaneously collapse and the essence of all things to tend toward extinction.

Merely by holding it, Lord Zangxing's remaining lower body was re-outlined and condensed by the dark-red light—no longer a solid entity, but a blood-red shadow that constantly twisted, swayed, and was extremely unstable, barely supporting him as he "stood."

He trod upon the Void Realm, one step, another step, walking toward the kneeling Lu Changzhi.

Every step was accompanied by a harsh, strange sound like bones rubbing together and Divine Soul matter tearing; with every step, the twisted smile on his face expanded and deepened by a fraction.

This smile was a mixture of spasms from severe pain, the hideousness of ecstasy, the icy coldness of resentment, and the trembling on a Soul level from being about to get what he wished for.

He no longer spoke, only using that phantom dao-burying halberd to point steadily and fixedly at the sword hilt in Lu Changzhi's hand, which was already completely dead and as cold as a tombstone.

From deep in his throat came a wheezing sound, "Heh... heh heh...", like a worn-out bellows struggling to pump.

This was the most wonderful and indispensable accompaniment for a predator enjoying the final fear of its prey.

Lord Jixing seemed completely unaware of the dramatic actions of Zangxing beside him.

His gaze, from beginning to end, fell calmly upon Lu Changzhi, upon that gray-white light core that was gradually becoming transparent and weakly pulsating.

Holding the dark-gold jade disc in his hand, the five halos around him rotating steadily and solemnly, his aura was as deep and unmeasurable as a mountain pool, like a god walking from the end of time, holding the final chapter of all things, as he took the last few steps.

The Void Realm submitted silently beneath his feet, and the darkness followed him like a shadow, gathering into an abyss behind him.