29: Chapter 29 Stepping into the Past

The boundless, charred earth was crisscrossed with cracks, from which dark red, blood-like magma flowed.

The sky was covered by thick, churning clouds of dark red and lead gray.

The blood-red sun and the crescent moon coexisted eerily, casting a maddening light that intertwined coldness and scorching heat.

The air was filled with the heavy stench of blood and burning corpses.

The wind was a hot gale carrying sparks and ash, scraping against the skin like scorching sandpaper.

Further away, at the edge of the earth, stood a terrifying shadow that defied description, covering half the sky.

It seemed to be composed of pure darkness, sludge, and countless twisted, writhing limbs.

It exuded a Soul-freezing malice and an aura of blasphemy.

Just a fleeting glimpse made Ding Qing feel as if his spirit was about to be polluted and torn apart.

That terrifying pressure even far surpassed the Black Mountain within the Old Daoist in Yellow Robes; it was a truly world-ending calamity.

Yet, upon this scorched earth, under the oppressive might of this world-ending shadow, it was not empty.

Tattered battle flags flapped fiercely in the hot wind.

The banners had long been stained black and red by blood and fire, their original totems indiscernible.

Countless figures, like a breaching flood, charged towards that world-ending shadow.

They wore a motley assortment of armor, long since tattered, wielding chipped swords, broken spears, and some even fought bare-handed.

Every one of them was wounded, their faces covered in blood, yet their eyes burned with a pure, ultimate, death-defying Battle Intent.

"Kill—!!!"

"For Houtu!!!"

"Brothers, wait for me on the Yellow Springs road! I'll clear the way for you!"

"Mother! Your son is unfilial! I'll repay you in the next life!!"

Roars, shouts, the clang of metal, the tearing of flesh, the dying wails...

Converged into an earth-shattering torrent, rushing straight into the sky, seemingly even making that world-ending shadow tremble.

No retreat, no fear.

Only waves of sacrifice, only the resolute charge of flesh and blood against destruction.

Ding Qing's heart was fiercely clutched!

He instantly understood what the Old Daoist in Yellow Robes meant by 'knowing death yet willingly embracing it'.

This was a... final battlefield, where the last glimmer of light burned in despair.

Countless lives launched a final charge against a world-ending enemy, just to seize a sliver of faint hope or merely for dignity.

An era of elegy, destined to be buried, existing only in the past!

"Do you feel it, my young friend?"

The voice of the Old Daoist in Yellow Robes sounded in Ding Qing's ear, carrying an unprecedented sense of weakness.

Ding Qing abruptly turned his head.

He saw the Old Daoist Priest beside him, his hunched figure seeming even more bent.

The earthy yellow Daoist robe now flickered erratically like a candle in the wind, as if it could extinguish completely at any moment.

The furrows on his face deepened.

In his turbid eyes, that inhuman sharp light was replaced by a deep weariness and suppression.

What made Ding Qing's heart skip a beat was the terrifying aura of the black giant mountain, suppressed and bound by chains within the Old Daoist Priest.

At this moment, it seemed to be firmly pressed down by this era!

Those invisible chain illusions wildly manifested and tensed behind him, emitting a piercing 'clatter'.

As if to crush him along with the mountain.

This buried era formed an unimaginable suppression on the demonic entity suppressed within the Old Daoist Priest.

This suppression was so powerful!

So much so that the Old Daoist Priest's own strength was also greatly restricted and suffered backlash.

"This era is... repelling and suppressing the 'thing' within this old man..."

The Old Daoist Priest's voice was tinged with a gasp.

His withered fingers trembled slightly from desperately trying to maintain balance.

"This is also... one of the reasons why I had to bring my young friend along...

Your body of supreme Yang and unyielding martial arts, capable of warding off all evil... is the greatest reliance for venturing deep into this desolate land and seizing that town object!"

His turbid gaze swept across the indescribably tragic battlefield in the distance.

Swept over the figures charging, exploding, and burning like ants under the world-ending shadow.

Finally returning to Ding Qing, his eyes were extremely solemn:

"Remember! Everything we do cannot change the already destined outcome of this era.

They... are destined to perish!

The only thing we can do is to snatch that spark that can illuminate our era and protect our world before everything turns completely to ash!"

"As for the target..."

The Old Daoist Priest laboriously raised the hand holding the broken saber.

The rusty blade was now emitting a low hum, its tip trembling slightly.

"It... will guide us..."

Ding Qing slowly clenched his fists.

Beneath his skin, the nine Body-Suppressing Veins reappeared faintly, emitting an aura even more scorching and ferocious than this parched earth.

Sun and moon out of sync, scorched earth for thousands of miles, all beings rushing to their deaths.

This buried era, this tragic battlefield.

What is there to fear?

Only battle!

He took a step, and everything before his eyes collapsed with a rumble.

An extremely complex emotion flashed in the Old Daoist in Yellow Robes' eyes, then transformed into an even deeper resolve.

He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the restless and surging terrifying entity within him.

His withered figure transformed into a faint yellow glow, following closely behind.

...

The distorted light and shadow before him suddenly froze.

The pungent smell of scorched earth and blood, the deafening sounds of battle, the terrifying pressure of the world-ending shadow...

All were instantly wiped away as if by an invisible giant hand.

Ding Qing shook his head, dispelling the lingering, tragic phantom that had seeped into his bones.

He found himself standing on a street paved with bluestone slabs.

The sun was warm, casting a gentle warmth on his body.

The air was filled with the common scent of cooking smoke, earth, and a faint mixture of animal waste.

It was a world apart from the apocalyptic scorched earth he had just experienced.

His black hoodie was gone, replaced by a set of faded, slightly coarse indigo blue official robes.

A half-worn cowhide belt was tied around his waist, from which hung a wooden plaque inscribed with the character " catch" (bu, meaning 'arrest') and an ordinary iron ruler.

He instinctively touched his chest and arms.

Beneath his skin, the nine dormant black Body-Suppressing Veins were still clearly discernible, his Qi and blood surged like mercury, and his strength had not vanished.

Only this body... had become an ancient Constable.

He turned his head sharply.

The Old Daoist in Yellow Robes stood half a step beside him.

His iconic oily Daoist robe had also disappeared, replaced by a similar set of indigo blue official robes.

However, they seemed even looser and emptier, hanging on his hunched, withered body like clothes on a bamboo pole.

He wore a similarly worn black Zali Hat askew on his head, covering most of his graying hair.

The rusty broken saber in his hand was also gone, replaced by a smooth jujube wood short staff.

The Old Daoist Priest's turbid eyes darted around, surveying his surroundings.

His face, etched with deep lines, showed little expression, only a hint of almost deathly calm.

On both sides of the street were low earthen and wooden houses, occasionally interspersed with slightly better brick and stone residences.

The hawkers' cries, children's playful shouts, women's chatter, the clanging of the blacksmith's forge...

All kinds of sounds intertwined, forming a vibrant and ordinary tableau of an ancient marketplace.

The city gate tower was not tall, its green bricks mottled, and a weathered plaque hung above it, inscribed with three faded characters: Baiye City.