428: Chapter 428 A tavern lies hidden beneath the abyss, and an old friend resides deep within the gray fog.

The dimensional storm behind him gradually subsided.

Those gray-black tornadoes, whipped up by the collapse of tens of millions of dead worlds, lost their source of power after raging for a while and slowly dissipated into the boundless Void Realm. The wreckage of the Heaven-Reaching Bone Tower turned into a thick layer of bone ash, covering the originally hard clearing.

Zhou Wannian did not look back at the ruins covering the ground.

He took steady steps, his spotless green cloth shoes stepping on the edge of the gray mist. With one step forward, he completely merged into the core and deepest unknown region of the Taiwu Ancestral Court.

The wind stopped.

That violent sense of spatial tearing vanished completely after crossing an invisible boundary.

Replacing it was a deathly silence that made even the Divine Soul feel oppressed. The mist here was no longer like thick glue as it was on the outskirts; instead, it had become somewhat thinner. But this thinness was not because the Death Qi had decreased, but because the Laws here had been completely drained by some force, and even the tiny air currents that maintained the rolling mist no longer existed.

Zhou Wannian walked through it.

The surrounding light presented a dull leaden gray. There was no light source; this gray glimmer seemed to be corpse spots emitted by space itself.

With every step he took, the sound of his soles hitting the ground was exceptionally clear.

"Tap... tap..."

At first, he stepped on that soft wasteland piled with unknown powder. But as he went deeper, the feel of the ground began to change.

The soft sinking sensation disappeared, replaced by a hard, smooth, and even slightly cool touch.

Zhou Wannian stopped and lowered his head.

In the leaden gray glimmer, he saw the ground beneath his feet clearly.

It wasn't barren rock, nor was it the cold, shimmering metal bedrock of high-dimensional worlds.

Instead, it was square-polished Bluestone slabs, with a layer of dark green dried moss growing in the joints.

Bluestone slabs.

This kind of ordinary stone, found only in the Mortal water towns of the Lower Realm and used to pave streets and alleys, had unexpectedly appeared in this place regarded by the All Heavens and Myriad Worlds as the ultimate forbidden zone of life.

Zhou Wannian's eyes, deep as ancient wells, narrowed slightly.

He looked up, his gaze following the path paved with Bluestone slabs toward the thin mist still slowly drifting ahead.

The smell in the air had also changed.

The previous sour smell of old wood rotting in a swamp, as well as the pungent smell of machine oil left by the Truth Realm fleet, were entirely replaced by a strange scent.

In this scent, there was a faint hint of smoke from burning firewood, the sourness of over-fermented aged wine, and a damp, moldy smell from a lack of sunlight.

This was clearly a scent that could only be found in the deep alleys of a Mortal marketplace.

Zhou Wannian clasped his hands behind his back, the hem of his Green Robe hanging naturally in the windless environment. Following the bluestone path, he walked forward unhurriedly.

The mist automatically parted to both sides before him.

Ahead, the blurry outline of a building gradually emerged against the gray background.

When the last layer of mist was pushed aside by the Domain around Zhou Wannian, the sight before him caused this scholar in a Green Robe—who had just casually dismantled an entire High-dimensional fleet and kicked down a Heaven-Reaching Bone Tower—to pause for a rare moment.

A dilapidated Wine shop.

It stood there quietly at the end of the bluestone path, without any protective Formations to hide it.

The Wine shop wasn't large, with only a two-room storefront. Its roof was covered with the black tiles most common in the Mortal world, and withered weeds grew between the ridges. The eaves hung low, and several load-bearing wooden pillars had long been pitted by time, their bases even blackened and rotting.

The shop's entrance was wide open, and a crooked bamboo pole was propped above the door frame. At the end of the pole hung a coarse cloth wine banner, washed pale with frayed edges. On the banner, a large character for "Wine" was written in poor-quality ink, the handwriting already blurred and smudged.

There was no wind, so the wine banner hung there lifelessly.

In front of the shop were several square wooden tables with chipped corners, paired with long benches of varying lengths. The surfaces of the wooden tables were covered in a thick layer of dust, and the wood grain was saturated with old, indelible grease and wine stains.

Everything was exactly the same as the dilapidated Wine Shop Zhou Wannian had sat in to avoid the spring rain in a Jiangnan water town before he went to the Immortal-Demon Great World.

Even the notch on the table leg bitten by a stray dog was replicated perfectly.

Taiwu Ancestral Court.

The oldest and most mysterious ruins in the All Heavens and Myriad Worlds. A Forbidden Ground that the Absolute Truth Realm could not fully analyze even after consuming ten billion world Origins.

In the core of this abyss where even time was swallowed by Death Qi, there actually lay hidden a dilapidated Wine shop filled with the mundane atmosphere of the Lower Realm.

The overt suspense was like a silent heavy hammer striking this dull gray canvas.

Zhou Wannian stood on the bluestone path, looking at this eerie Wine shop.

Something was abnormal.

In this void where there should be nothing, the appearance of a Mortal building was even more inconceivable than the appearance of an ancient god or demon that devours the starry sky.

But on his handsome face, not much wariness appeared. Instead, a glint of interest flashed in his eyes.

"Outside the door is a grand Formation of ten thousand ships ready to launch, yet inside, a thatched shed for drinking in the Lower Realm has been set up."

The corners of Zhou Wannian's mouth curled slightly, his voice sounding exceptionally clear in this absolutely silent clearing.

"These rules of hospitality are indeed somewhat difficult to fathom."

He took a step, his spotless green cloth shoes stepping onto the stairs in front of the Wine shop.

The moss on the steps made a dry cracking sound.

Zhou Wannian did not walk directly into the room but went straight to the dilapidated wooden table closest to the street.

He extended his long, fair fingers and wiped the tabletop plainly.

His fingertips were stained with a layer of grayish-white dust.

The touch was rough and hard. This was not an illusion, nor was it a holographic projection simulated by high-dimensional code. This was real wood that, after experiencing long years of being air-dried, left a texture that was about to crumble into dust.

Zhou Wannian turned around, flicked the hem of his Green Robe, and sat down on the long bench covered in splinters.

"Creak—"

The old wooden bench let out an overburdened groan, as if it would fall apart at any moment.

Zhou Wannian rested one hand on the dusty wooden table, his gaze crossing the dim threshold to look inside the Wine shop.

It was very dark inside the Wine shop.

There were no windows; the only light source was a dilapidated oil lamp placed in the corner of the counter.

The lamp was made of coarse porcelain, and it was filled with an unknown murky oil. A blackened wick was soaked inside, with a tiny flame the size of a soybean dancing at its tip.

The flame had no temperature, presenting a dismal ghostly green. The light flickered in the dark room, stretching the furnishings into various distorted shadows.

The shelves against the wall were piled with mud-sealed wine jars of all sizes. Some of the jars had broken Seals, and that sour smell of wine dregs was emanating from there.

And behind that mahogany counter directly facing the door,

there was a figure.

Zhou Wannian's gaze landed unerringly on that figure.

It was a person.

Or rather, it was something with a human silhouette.

It wore a gray Short tunic sewn from coarse cloth and a Skullcap commonly worn by Mortal Waiters. It lowered its head, holding a dirty rag, and was mechanically wiping the counter surface over and over again.

"Shua... shua... shua..."

The sound of the rag rubbing against the wood was exceptionally piercing in this Wine shop where even a needle drop could be heard.

In this sound, there wasn't the slightest sound of a living person's breathing, nor the sound of muscle pulling on bone.

It was an extremely dry and light sound, like two withered leaves scraping against each other.

Zhou Wannian sat outside, narrowing his eyes, and carefully observed this "Waiter" at work by the faint ghostly green firelight.

When the firelight illuminated that lowered face,

even Zhou Wannian, who was accustomed to all sorts of strange creatures in the All Heavens and Myriad Worlds, couldn't help but have a flash of surprise in his eyes.

It was not the face of a living person.

There was no flesh, no pores.

It was a face made of ghastly white paper.

Pinned beneath the paper skin was a skeleton made of thin bamboo strips. The paper man's facial features were drawn on with crude ink: two stiff silkworm eyebrows and a pair of hollow, pupil-less dead fish eyes. On both sides of its deathly pale cheeks, two round red circles cut from cheap red paper were stuck firmly on with paste.

The corners of its mouth curled upward, forming a stiff, eerie, and eternal smile.

A paper man.

The kind of paper effigy that would only be crafted in the Mortal world during a funeral to be burned as a companion for the deceased.

At this moment, this deathly pale paper man was holding a tattered rag, working as a bartender in the core Wine Shop of the Taiwu Ancestral Court.

"Sha... sha... sha..."

The paper man seemed completely oblivious to Zhou Wannian's arrival. Its two arms, made of bamboo strips and white paper, stiffly pushed the rag back and forth. The paper folded and rubbed at the joints, producing a crisp sound that made one's scalp tingle.

Zhou Wannian watched quietly for a while.

His finger, resting on the table, tapped rhythmically twice on the dust-covered wooden board.

"Proprietor, since you've opened for business, there's no reason to leave a guest hanging outside the door."

Zhou Wannian's voice was calm and smooth, carrying the laziness of someone strolling through a marketplace, as it rippled directly through the deathly silent house and its surroundings.

"Bring a bowl of wine to quench my thirst."

The moment his voice fell.

The rustling sound of table-wiping stopped abruptly.

The paper man behind the counter ceased its movements.

It slowly raised its head.

That deathly pale paper face, painted with an eerie smile and red cheeks, stared straight at Zhou Wannian sitting outside the door under the eerie green oil lamp.

There was no exchange of gazes, for it had no eyes at all, only two black hollows dotted with ink.

A series of clicking sounds, like bamboo strips snapping, came from the paper man's neck as its stiff body began to turn slowly.

It did not speak, nor did it make any sound resembling a living creature. It simply turned its body mechanically, turning its back to Zhou Wannian, and reached out with a hand that had only four paper fingers to grab a coarse porcelain wine bowl from the shelf behind it.

At the very instant the paper man turned around, exposing its back to the eerie green firelight.

A hidden suspense exploded like a thunderclap in the silent Wine shop.

Zhou Wannian's finger, which had been lazily tapping the tabletop, suddenly stopped.

His eyes, usually as calm as a deep abyss, saw his pupils contract slightly when he clearly saw the sight on the paper man's back.

A large piece of fabric had been torn from the back of the grey Short tunic the paper man wore, revealing the deathly pale paper torso underneath.

On that deathly pale paper surface.

A mark was drawn.

This mark was not drawn with ordinary ink, but outlined with a dark green, ancient, and vibrant strange pigment.

The lines of the mark looked very simple, like an incomplete ring drawn in a single stroke. In the center of the ring was a drop of ink shaped like a teardrop.

But despite these seemingly simple strokes, in Zhou Wannian's perception, they contained a profound aura that spanned endless dimensions and pointed directly to the world's Origin.

He had seen this mark before.

And he had seen it not long ago.

In that Qingping Realm, which was exploited as a fish pond by the Immortal-Demon Great World and whose Spiritual Qi was exhausted.

On that grey-clothed youth named 'Shitou'.

When Zhou Wannian had snapped the transparent threads of the Extraterrestrial Angler and forced the extracted heavenly dao origin of the Qingping Realm back into Shitou's body, making him the new Realm Lord and the new Gatekeeper of the Qingping Realm.

At the moment Shitou merged with the world Origin, what emerged on his forehead was exactly such an ancient mark, shaped like an incomplete ring interwoven with a teardrop in dark green!

That was the manifestation of the Qingping Realm's heavenly dao origin, the core identity brand of a world.

But now.

Separated by an unknown number of galaxies and spanning countless dimensional barriers.

In the deepest part of the Taiwu Ancestral Court, a place regarded as a dead land by all high-dimensional civilizations, filled with gloom and decay.

On the back of a lifeless paper man acting as a bartender.

There was actually a mark of the same source and lineage as the one on the forehead of that low-dimensional Mortal youth.

The two were like two parallel lines that shouldn't have intersected even at the end of the Universe, yet at this moment, they were forcibly entwined in this dilapidated Wine Shop in an extremely bizarre and irrational way.

Zhou Wannian sat on the long bench, his hand behind his back clenching slightly.

On that handsome face, all the leisure and laziness faded away, replaced by a coldness filled with scrutiny and inquiry.

Clues flipped rapidly through his mind.

The Qingping Realm was just an insignificant Lower Realm among the All Heavens and Myriad Worlds. That youth named Shitou was an ant among ants, as Mortal as could be.

And the Taiwu Ancestral Court was an ancient Forbidden Ground he had personally Sealed years ago.

Who crafted this paper man?

Who built this Wine shop?

Why would this mark, identical to the Qingping Realm's Origin, appear on the paper man's back?

Could it be that during these long years, the thing hidden in the Taiwu Ancestral Court has not only been absorbing the power of the Seal he left behind but has even extended its tentacles into the low-dimensional fish ponds outside?

Or was this itself a trap aimed at him? Because someone knew he had been to the Qingping Realm and knew he had enlightened that youth, they deliberately displayed this mark here to lure him into a scheme?

"Ka ka..."

The sound of the paper man turning around interrupted Zhou Wannian's thoughts.

The stiff paper body faced the door once again.

In its bloodless hands, it held a coarse porcelain bowl with several chips along its rim. The bowl contained half a bowl of murky liquid, emitting a pungent sour smell.

The paper man took stiff steps and walked out from behind the counter.

It had no legs; its long grey robe dragged on the ground, covering its lower body. It glided silently across the threshold as if on ice, arriving before the wooden table where Zhou Wannian sat.

Two arms made of bamboo strips extended forward mechanically.

"Dang."

The coarse porcelain wine bowl was placed heavily on the dusty wooden table, splashing a few drops of murky wine.

When the wine hit the tabletop, it instantly corroded the dry wood grain, creating several charred holes and emitting wisps of pungent grey smoke.

This wasn't wine at all.

This was a bowl of life-taking poisonous soup, forcibly mixed from the purest acidic Death Qi of the Taiwu Ancestral Court and the fluids from some rotting corpse. If a Mortal caught even a whiff of it, they would instantly turn into a pool of blood; even a powerhouse of the cultivation world would have their Dao Foundation collapse in an instant upon drinking a single sip.

The paper man did not leave after setting down the wine bowl.

Its deathly pale paper face, painted with red cheeks and an eerie smile, leaned in to within less than two feet of Zhou Wannian.

The hollow black ink sockets stared fixedly at the man in the Green Robe.

An icy wind, blowing from nowhere, whipped the paper man's hem, making a rustling sound of flipping paper.

Zhou Wannian sat on the bench, neither looking at the bowl of murky liquid emitting poisonous smoke nor paying heed to the paper man's hair-raising stare.

He slightly raised his eyelids.

His eyes, as deep as an ancient well, looked directly at the paper man's deathly pale face.

"The wine is sour, and the person is fake."

Zhou Wannian's calm voice sounded exceptionally cold in the green firelight.

He slowly extended his right hand, his long, fair fingers nonchalantly tapping once on the rim of the coarse porcelain wine bowl.

"Dang."

With that crisp tap, the Great Perfection Space Law transformed into a wisp of Absolute Mass, instantly penetrating the bowl of murky poisonous water. The boiling Death Qi and toxic mist, upon contact with the mass, were instantly frozen into a murky solid as if a paralysis spell had been cast.

Zhou Wannian withdrew his finger, his gaze passing over the paper man to look into the bottomless, dark back hall of the Wine shop.

"Sending out this paper-pasted thing that can't even breathe to serve tea and water—your hospitality is becoming more and more unruly."

He stood up, the hem of his Green Robe sweeping across the long bench with a faint rustle.

"Since you drew that graffiti on its back to hook me..."

Zhou Wannian placed both hands behind his back. His spotless green cloth shoes bypassed the table as he took a step forward toward the deathly pale paper man.

"Go, call out the mastermind who's hiding inside and drawing pictures."