641: Chapter 641 Who am I?

"Who am I?"

He repeated in a low voice, his voice seemingly wrapped in the frost of eons, coming from the deepest part of the river of time, passing through the dust of countless epochs, and landing heavily in this small Daoist temple.

"This question has been asked by countless people from the primordial times to the present."

"Some call me the Sacred Body, some call me the Desolate Ancient Sacred Lord, some call me the Desolate Ancient God Lord, and some call me the Desolate Ancient Dao Ancestor."

His gaze fell upon Luo Xiaojiu.

In his golden pupils, stars flickered and epochs rotated.

In this instant, it was as if infinite scenes exploded within those eyes—a youth bathed in blood, fighting the heavens with his life; a middle-aged man with hands behind his back, facing the heavens alone; an old man sitting withered, his body becoming a monument, suppressing the eternal Void Realm.

Every frame held the weight of an era.

It pressed down so hard that even this golden light trembled slightly.

"But my true name... it has been too long."

"So long that... I have almost forgotten it myself."

There was no sadness, no anger.

Only a hollowness that penetrated to the bone.

Like a traveler who had walked through an endless desert, looking back, his footprints had long been buried by the wind and sand; looking up, there was still boundless yellow sand ahead.

He had walked for too long.

So long that he forgot where he came from and where he was going.

Luo Xiaojiu looked up at this cross-legged Golden Giant.

He was indescribably huge; although he was sitting not far away, it felt as if they were separated by eons of time and space.

This was not a distance of space—it was a distance of time.

It was like looking at a mural from millions of years ago; the person in the painting was vivid, but you knew in your heart that what lay between you was an uncrossable chasm of time.

The golden cracks on her body were still spreading, and golden blood dripped from her fingertips.

Every drop that hit the bluestone floor made a crisp sound like gold and stone colliding, bursting into a golden lotus, and then dissipating into a rain of light across the sky.

But she didn't care at all.

"Primordial times?" She tilted her head slightly, her eyes showing obvious confusion for the first time. "You say you have lived from the primordial times until now?"

She paused, and in those clear eyes, the figure of the Golden Giant was reflected, as was the galaxy flowing above the Daoist temple.

"I have heard too many legends of the primordial times, all vague, as if separated by a layer of fog, unable to be seen clearly."

"Senior, what kind of era was the primordial time exactly?"

Her gaze was clear and earnest, staring straight at the Golden Giant.

"Since you are a Great Accomplishment Desolate Ancient Sacred Body from the primordial times, you should know, right?"

The Golden Giant fell silent.

It was not an ordinary silence.

It was a stillness where the entire starry sky stopped moving.

The galaxy above the Daoist temple seemed to freeze at this moment.

Those flickering stars hung in mid-air, as if someone had pressed the pause button.

Even the eternal surging in the depths of the Chaos became cautious in the face of this silence.

In the golden pupils, the original relief and release underwent a subtle change.

Luo Xiaojiu keenly captured it.

It was an extremely complex emotion—doubt, unwillingness, regret, and some things she could not name, intertwined and surging in those deep pupils that seemed to be able to contain the entire Universe.

Like a volcano that had been dormant for hundreds of millions of years, brewing an earth-shattering eruption deep in the crust.

He did not answer immediately.

The Daoist temple fell into dead silence.

The galaxy slowly flowed around, and the Chaos surged in the distance.

Those flickering points of light were like time itself flowing silently.

The air was filled with an ancient atmosphere that made one breathless—this was the taste of time, the accumulation of years, the weight piled up by countless epochs.

Luo Xiaojiu could feel that something had awakened in the heart of this Golden Giant.

A memory that had been sealed for too, too long.

A memory he might not want to touch himself.

After a long time.

The Golden Giant spoke.

His voice was no longer old and deep, but carried an irrepressible fatigue.

This was not the fatigue of the body—it was the fatigue of the Soul.

The fatigue of a Soul that had lived for too long, seen too much, and carried too much, having its edges worn away in the endless years, yet still having to go on.

"Primordial..."

He repeated these two words, as if savoring a taste long forgotten.

It should be bitter, because his brows furrowed slightly; it should be astringent, because the corners of his mouth curved downward by a fraction.

There was also a hint of sweetness, because a fleeting gentleness flashed in his eyes.

"Little girl, which primordial time is the one you know?"

Luo Xiaojiu was stunned: "Isn't the primordial time just the primordial time? What other primordial time is there?"

Her voice carried a self-evident confusion.

The Golden Giant laughed.

No joy, only bitterness.

"Primordial..."

"Some say it was a golden age, with ten thousand races competing, Prodigies rising together, and strong people as numerous as clouds."

"Some say it was the most glorious era of the Myriad Heavens and Worlds, with prosperous Dao Laws, heaven-reaching Divine Ability, and even ordinary creatures could live for thousands of years."

He paused, and images emerged in his golden pupils—the prosperity of the primordial times: ten thousand races stood, cities floated in the Nine Heavens; Dao Laws were prosperous, one could reach out and pluck stars and grab the moon; Geniuses emerged one after another, and in every era, figures who amazed the ages appeared.

"These are all correct."

His voice suddenly deepened, so low that it sounded like a rumble coming from the depths of the earth.

"But they all forgot, or rather, they didn't know at all—"

"The primordial time was also the Era of Dharma Ending."

The moment these words were spoken from his mouth, the temperature of the entire Daoist temple dropped sharply.

Those flowing galaxies also dimmed a bit, as if crushed by the weight of these four words, unable to catch their breath.

Luo Xiaojiu's eyes widened slightly.

The Era of Dharma Ending?

These four words spoken from the mouth of this Golden Giant carried a heavy, almost suffocating pressure.

It was not a historical term.

It was a real, bloody, and unforgettable memory.

"Dharma Ending..." she murmured, repeating.

"Yes. Dharma Ending."

In the Golden Giant's pupils, the flickering of the stars became intense, as if his emotions were triggering changes in this starry sky. The stars were sometimes as bright as day, sometimes as dark as an abyss, "I was born in the primordial Era of Dharma Ending."

"That was the most glorious era, and also the most desperate era."

Luo Xiaojiu listened quietly without interrupting.

She could feel that what he was about to say was very heavy.

"In that epoch, the Laws of heaven and earth had not yet completely subsided, and various ancestral Bloodlines, Divine Physiques, and Sacred Bodies appeared frequently. The Celestial Race, God Race, Demon Race, Sword Clan, Chaos Clan... the top groups of the Myriad Heavens and Worlds all left their most colorful mark in that era."

Speaking of this, there was finally a hint of warmth in his voice.

This was the warmth that only appeared when recalling beautiful things, like an old man recalling the most glorious years of his youth.

"The Primordial Phoenix, Ancestral Dragon, Sacred Qilin... existences that later generations regarded as legendary totems actually soared in the Nine Heavens and roamed the four seas in that era."

"Their wings could cover the firmament, and their roars could shatter stars. Their very existence was a deterrent."

"Various Physiques, various Bloodlines, various Divine Ability, various Dao Laws reached a height in that era that later generations could never reach."

There was even a hint of pride in his voice—that was the pride of an era, the pride engraved in the bones of every life that had bloomed in that era.

Then, his voice sank.

"But it was also in that era that heaven and earth began to decline. Spiritual Qi was receding, Laws were collapsing, and the Heavenly Dao itself appeared cracks. That brilliance, that splendor, was like the last ray of sunset before the sun sets—beautiful and breathtaking, but destined to sink into the eternal night."

His voice became lower and lower, as if he was talking to himself.

"Later generations mentioned the primordial times, only seeing the brilliance, but not the despair beneath the brilliance."

"That kind of despair is the despair of watching heaven and earth die bit by bit, but being powerless. It is the despair of trying one's best to grasp something, only to find that everything in one's hand has turned into quicksand. It is the despair of clearly standing on the Peak, but seeing the mountain under one's feet collapsing."

Luo Xiaojiu frowned.

She frowned hard, as if to chew every word and swallow it.

Her small face was full of contemplation, and in those clear eyes, the shadow of the Golden Giant was reflected, as was the era that was both glorious and desperate depicted in his words.

"You said you were born in the primordial Era of Dharma Ending," she said, her voice calm but with an unavoidable directness, "Then how... did you become a Desolate Ancient Sacred Body?"

As soon as this question was asked, the stars in the Golden Giant's eyes suddenly stopped.

All the starlight solidified.

In those pupils, only pure, intense gold remained, like two burning suns, illuminating the entire Daoist temple.

After a long time.

The Golden Giant spoke slowly, his voice carrying an indescribable meaning—

"Are you sure... you want to hear this story?"

"This is a very, very long story."

"So long that... it takes a lifetime to tell."

His gaze fell on Luo Xiaojiu, with anticipation, hesitation, worry, and a hint of hidden fear—just like a person about to uncover their deepest scar by themselves, not knowing if the person in front of them can bear that pain.

The Daoist temple fell into silence again.

The galaxy flowed overhead, and the Chaos surged in the distance.

And in the center of this silence, a story that spanned eons was waiting to be told.