654: Chapter 654 By the Long River

Meanwhile, the owner of this hand stepped across the waves, coming from the end of the River of Time.

The moment she appeared, the entire River of Time fell silent.

It was not an ordinary silence, but a deeper, almost devout submission—as if the River of Time itself were holding its breath for her arrival.

The once-turbulent fragments on the river's surface, those broken threads of Karma spanning billions of years, were now gently smoothed away as if by an invisible hand.

Ripples spread outward, each circle a silent sigh from an entire epoch.

She wore a silver-blue gown, its hem trailing a long tail of light through the Void Realm.

This was no ordinary light, but a river of light woven from countless timelines.

Each ray of light flowed slowly, flickering with images of the past, present, and future—stars being born, civilizations collapsing, a baby's first cry, an emperor's final sigh.

These images flowed endlessly across her gown without ever interfering with one another, as if she were wearing the time of the entire world.

With every step she took, ripples of Karma emerged beneath her feet.

At first glance, these ripples looked like water waves, but a closer look revealed dense, golden runes contained within them.

Each rune evolved on its own, spawning new runes in the process, endless and ceaseless.

Wherever the ripples passed, the fragments still churning and struggling in the River of Time were miraculously calmed, as if subjected to some supreme Law.

They no longer roared, no longer resisted, but lay meekly at her feet, as if worshipping a true Dominator.

In this Chaos, this chaotic land that even the Heavenly Dao would not tread upon, a queen capable of dominating everything had appeared.

Her features were not clearly visible.

Not because of any obstruction, nor because of light distortion, but because—she was too perfect.

Perfect to the point of suffocation. This perfection transcended the realm of vision, acting directly upon the depths of the Soul.

Anyone who glanced at her would instantly forget who they were, where they were, and why they had come, with only one thought remaining in their mind: "How could such a perfect existence exist in this world?"

Her features seemed to be condensed from the very concept of "beauty."

If you stared into these eyes for three breaths, you would feel as if you had seen the starlight from the deepest depths of the Universe; if you looked away, you would find yourself unable to remember the shape of those eyes at all.

Her nose, her lips, her jawline—each part alone could be a work of art, but when combined, they formed a perfection that transcended art, aesthetics, and even cognition.

Any attempt to describe her was futile.

Because language itself was a limitation, and she was not within any limitation.

But what was most striking was the mark between her brows.

A teardrop-shaped mark, yet not entirely a teardrop.

To call it a teardrop was because its outline truly presented that rounded and fluid arc, like a droplet about to fall, frozen in mid-air.

But if you looked closely, you would find that inside this "teardrop" lay a structure more complex than the entire Universe.

Countless intersecting lines wove back and forth within it, each line representing a piece of Karma—someone turned love into hate, triggering a war a thousand years later that swept across several Star Domains.

Someone planted a willow unintentionally, and a hundred years later, it created a Dynasty capable of changing the course of history.

Someone made a split-second decision, turning a city that should have prospered for ten thousand years into ruins in an instant.

These lines of Karma intertwined, entangled with one another, causing each other, and cycling back and forth, forming a whole that was incredibly complex yet incredibly harmonious.

Karma. This was a mark condensed from Karma itself.

The Celestial Maiden. This Celestial Maiden who held the River of Time, the true Dominator of the destinies of countless living beings in the Myriad Heavens and Worlds.

Her gaze fell upon the golden light in her palm. Watching the weak aura of this golden light, a rare, complex emotion appeared in her eyes, which reflected the stars of the Universe.

In this emotion was relief—like seeing one's child finally grow into an adult, full of scars, but having ultimately not failed expectations.

There was heartache—like seeing one's child return home covered in wounds, wounds deep enough to see the bone, some even unable to heal.

There was a sigh—like having known this day would eventually come, but when it truly arrived, she still couldn't help but lament the impermanence of fate.

There was also an indescribable tenderness—the kind of tenderness that only reveals itself when looking at the most important person in one's life.

When she looked at this light, she did not see a mark about to dissipate.

What she saw was the youth from years ago.

The youth knelt on the ground, kowtowing to her respectfully three times.

With the first kowtow, the ground cracked; with the second, the crack expanded into a pit; with the third, blood seeped from the youth's forehead, streaming down from between his brows and staining half his face red.

But when he looked up, he smiled like a fool, his eyes as bright as the stars in the sky, muttering: "Revered Master is above, your Disciple kowtows to you."

When the youth stepped into the ancient Forbidden Ground alone, she had just told him how dangerous it was.

But he went anyway, without hesitation.

He was besieged by countless powerful enemies, with not a single intact spot on his body—his left arm was broken again and again, the bones of his right leg shattered into dozens of pieces, and there was a saber wound on his chest that almost pierced through his body.

But he never retreated a single step, gritting his teeth, eyes red, forcing his way out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

When the youth stood at the peak of a Star Domain, behind him was the endless starry sky, and before him were even more endless enemies.

His clothes were already tattered, his hair disheveled over his shoulders, his face covered in blood and dust, but his spine was straight, like a long spear that would never bend.

He turned his head and glanced toward the direction of the River of Time.

In this glance, there was no plea for help, no complaint, no superfluous request.

Just a simple glance. As if saying: "Revered Master, your Disciple can do it."

The stubbornness and pride in this glance made her silent for a long time at the end of the River of Time.

She watched him grow up all the way, from a Mortal who didn't even know what it meant to Cultivate, to Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, Soul Transformation, Undergoing Tribulation, Mahayana... Every step was taken with immense difficulty, and every step left deep footprints.

She watched him dominate a Star Domain alone, unifying the once-fragmented territory into a solid Empire.

She watched him break into the Void Realm alone, facing existences that even the Heavenly Dao would shy away from; he did not retreat, did not fear, but calmly drew his sword.

She watched him turn countless things that others thought impossible into reality, one by one.

She watched him, from a little Cultivator who understood nothing, walk step by step to become an existence that made the entire Void Realm tremble.

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly.

This was a very faint, very faint smile.

So faint that if one didn't look carefully, one wouldn't notice it at all.

But in this smile, it contained a thousand words, countless days and nights of concern, and the deepest recognition a Revered Master could have for her Disciple.

"It is good that you have returned."

Her voice was very soft, so soft that only she could hear it. So soft that it was as if she were afraid of disturbing something.

But just at this moment—

"Tsk, tsk, tsk..."

An insidious voice broke the tranquility, like someone making a harsh scraping sound on ice.

"Celestial Maiden, long time no see."

As these words fell, the waters of the River of the Underworld surged violently.

Not an ordinary surge, but like a behemoth that had been sleeping for ten thousand years suddenly waking up, the entire river surface was boiling violently.

The black river water shot into the sky, turning into huge pillars of water, each pillar filled with the wails and curses of countless dead Souls.

These dead Souls reached out with pale hands, wanting to grab something, but could grab nothing, only able to roll and struggle in the river water in vain.

Then, a foot stepped out of the river surface.

The instant this foot stepped into the Void Realm, a circle of black ripples spread wildly from the point of impact.

Wherever the ripples passed, the Void Realm made a "hissing" sound of corrosion, as if burned by concentrated acid, or scorched by raging fire.

The Void Realm was torn into pitch-black cracks, and what poured out from the cracks was not light, but a deeper darkness—a kind of darkness that seemed capable of devouring all hope and vitality.