432: Chapter 432 Casually Erasing the Unfilial Son, Leisurely Strolling Before the Old Courtyard

Zhou Wannian stooped, his long, fair fingers hovering over the bluestone slab covered in dried moss.

Beneath his fingertips, that pale cyan water droplet had thoroughly seeped into the rough texture of the slab, leaving behind only a small, slightly darker stain.

The cold, crisp scent of green bamboo after an early spring rain, the moment it touched the Great Perfection Space Law, dissipated completely like a wisp of unwilling smoke amidst the Death Qi that was permeated with a sour, musty odor.

Yet, this scent had solidly carved itself into Zhou Wannian's Divine Soul perception.

He maintained this posture, quietly watching the dark stain for a moment.

A rule-based dead object, eroded by Death Qi and materialized from a scribbled draft, had actually shed a tear belonging to a living person at the very moment of its complete annihilation, even carrying the scent of vegetation found only in the Mortal Lower Realm.

This was by no means a coincidence of nature.

In this tangled mess, someone had silently infused a trace of vivid emotion into what had been a casual stroke of his pen years ago.

This emotion was hidden extremely deep, so deep that even the highest matrix of the Truth Realm could not calculate it, and so deep that even the monster reigning supreme at the bottom of the dry well had not noticed it.

Only until it was completely crushed by the Absolute Mass, and this layer of camouflaged shell peeled away, could that tear hidden in the deepest part finally see the light of day.

"This game of chess is becoming increasingly baffling."

Zhou Wannian slowly straightened his body, casually wiping his fingers on the hem of his green robe.

On his face, which usually revealed a hint of laziness and nonchalance, the habitual look of a spectator gradually faded, replaced by a calmness as deep as a cold pool.

He turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the four corners of this long street.

Those four arrogant "Circle Envoys" who had crossed dimensional barriers to set the rules had now completely turned into four piles of black charcoal powder.

Weak currents of Death Qi swirled on the slab, blowing the black ash scattered about, as if trying to redraw several chaotic ink lines on the bluestone.

"Since it is an unwanted draft, one must clean the blackboard thoroughly; leaving black ash all over the place just needlessly dirties one's soles."

Zhou Wannian's tone was calm, devoid of any worldly aura.

His left hand, held behind his back, did not even come out; his right foot, stepping on the bluestone slab, simply stamped lightly and nonchalantly on the ground.

"Hum—"

A muffled thud traveled through the sole of his shoe, directly into the depths of the ruined earth veins that had been forcibly cut out.

The Absolute Mass refined by the Great Perfection Space Law transformed into an invisible scavenger, sweeping out in all directions along the surface of the bluestone slab.

There was no howling wind, nor flying sand or stones.

This was a crushing and erasure purely at the microscopic physical level.

Those black charcoal powders scattered on the ground, the white ashes from the dilapidated tavern, and the dry, rule-based aura of "The Initial Circle" remaining in the air, the moment they touched this mass ripple, were instantly stripped of the concept of existence.

They were not blown away, but directly turned into nothingness on the spot.

The originally dirty and messy bluestone street, after that stomp, became clean and spotless.

It was as if a huge, wet rag had wiped this space of a hundred zhang in radius, inside and out, thoroughly.

Those so-called rules, those unfilial creations, in front of this true Creator, could not leave even a trace of having been there.

Effortlessly erased.

Zhou Wannian withdrew his gaze and looked again toward the end of this bluestone road.

There lay the true, deep core of the Taiwu Ancestral Court.

Thick gray mist rolled and piled up there, forming a towering gray wall that seemed endless and pierced the clouds.

No light shone from the mist, only a heaviness and deathly silence that made one's Divine Soul tremble, like an ancient behemoth lurking in the darkness, opening its mouth to silently inhale the Death Qi of All Heavens and Myriad Worlds.

Zhou Wannian took a step.

His green cloth shoes landed on the smooth bluestone, producing a steady and rhythmic sound of footsteps.

"Tap... tap... tap..."

In this world where even the sound of the wind was swallowed, this monotonous sound of footsteps became the only noise.

Zhou Wannian walked steadily.

An absolute vacuum Domain within three feet around him pushed away the gray Death Qi that tried to gather.

He was like a leisurely old man who had eaten his fill and was strolling in his own backyard, walking calmly toward the abyss regarded by All Heavens and Myriad Worlds as the ultimate nightmare.

As he went deeper, the road beneath his feet began to change.

The bluestone slabs that originally carried the aura of the Lower Realm Mortals gradually disappeared.

In their place were huge stones that appeared completely dark, deep gray in color.

Each of these stones was several zhang square, their surfaces polished as smooth as a mirror, yet one could not feel the slightest trace of artificial carving.

The material of the stones was neither gold nor jade, exuding a coldness that had remained unchanged for eternity.

Stepping on them, the chill shot straight up from the soles of his feet; if not for the protection of the Great Perfection Law, this cold air alone would have been enough to instantly freeze the Nascent Soul of a Soul Transformation Stage Cultivator into ice shards.

The air became increasingly viscous.

Amidst the sour, musty smell of fermented aged wood, a fishy odor similar to rust mixed with dried blood began to appear.

This was the most primitive scent of the Taiwu Ancestral Court.

Countless epochs ago, as an experimental outpost for an ancient civilization, it had buried unknown numbers of indescribable, terrifying creatures.

The resentment and Death Qi of those creatures intertwined, settling at the bottom of this abyss, fermenting into this deadly poison capable of contaminating all Heavenly Dao Laws.

Zhou Wannian did not close his five senses; he let these auras brush past his nostrils.

The mist ahead became thicker and thicker, as if it had condensed into tangible gray mercury.

Zhou Wannian did not stop; he walked straight into that thick wall of gray mist.

The Domain within three feet of him erupted with a muffled crushing sound.

Under the exclusion of the Absolute Mass, the viscous mist was forced to roll to both sides, plowing a straight vacuum channel in front of Zhou Wannian.

Traveling through this viscous sea of mist, the concept of time became blurred.

He did not know how long he had walked; perhaps it was an incense stick's time, perhaps a hundred years.

Suddenly.

Zhou Wannian felt the heavy resistance that had been pressing against his Domain ahead suddenly vanish.

The viscous mist, as if sliced open by a blade, rapidly retreated to both sides.

The view before him suddenly cleared.

Zhou Wannian stopped his steps.

The hem of his green robe fluttered slightly forward the moment it lost resistance, then fell smoothly by his legs.

He raised his head, and his eyes, as calm and waveless as the deep water of a cold pool, quietly stared ahead.

The true face of the Taiwu Ancestral Court, after being sealed by countless years, finally unveiled its mysterious veil before this green-robed scholar.

There was no scene of an Asura Hell with mountains of bones piled up or seas of blood flying across the sky as imagined.

Nor was there the cold, rigid mechanical jungle of the Truth Realm, full of geometric lines.

What appeared before Zhou Wannian was an ancient courtyard so vast that his vision could not encompass its full scope.

This courtyard sat quietly at the very bottom of the abyss.

The courtyard's architectural style was ancient and rough, without any flashy decorations.

Two huge, deep black stone pillars, ten thousand zhang high, stood like two giant swords piercing the firmament, thrusting straight into the gray-black bedrock, forming the frame of the courtyard's gate.

The surface of the stone pillars was covered with traces of weathering and erosion; huge cracks, like winding black lightning, spread from the top of the pillars to the roots.

Deep within those cracks, gray Death Qi circulated faintly, as if the pillars themselves were living, breathing creatures.

Between the stone pillars, there was no plaque, nor any text identification.

There were only two immensely heavy, dark red doors, tightly closed, blocking everything inside the courtyard from the outside.

The dark red doors looked in material like some kind of dried, peeling bark, or like hard scabs formed by countless layers of dried blood.

The surface of the doors was pitted and uneven, exuding a desolate and heavy aura that made one's Divine Soul tremble.

Standing before this gate, even Zhou Wannian, who had once single-handedly flattened the Truth Realm fleet, could feel a heavy sense of oppression that spanned epochs, coming from the most ancient years of the Universe.

This was the true core entrance of the Taiwu Ancestral Court.

A Primordial Gate that separated life and death and sealed the deepest secrets of All Heavens and Myriad Worlds.

Zhou Wannian stood on the gray-black square outside the gate, his hands folded behind his back.

His gaze followed the two dark red doors all the way up, finally resting on the seam where the two doors met.

The surrounding silence was like substance; even the sound of his heartbeat was swallowed by the void.

Zhou Wannian's eyes underwent a subtle change at this moment.

It was a complex expression mixed with astonishment, absurdity, and even a trace of nostalgia.

In the very center of the two dark red doors, which were ten thousand zhang high and radiated terrifying high-dimensional pressure, embedded on the seamless seam, were two huge black beast-head door knockers.

And between these two beast-head door knockers, a lock was fastened.

That was not an unparalleled spiritual lock flashing with immortal runes.

Nor was it a mechanical combination lock embedded with high-dimensional code.

It was the most ordinary, crudest, Mortal iron lock, with a brass-colored body and a shackle covered in reddish-brown rust.

This lock was only the size of an ordinary person's palm, hanging on the huge door knocker capable of bearing the weight of stars, appearing incredibly ridiculous, tiny, and even somewhat out of place.

Yet it was fastened there solidly, locking this Primordial Gate tightly.

Zhou Wannian took a step, ascending the ninety-nine wide black stone steps in front of the gate.

The stone steps were covered with thick gray dust; with every step, a clear green footprint was left behind.

He walked very slowly, his gaze never leaving the rusty iron lock.

Arriving before the gate.

Zhou Wannian stopped, less than a foot away from the iron lock.

His deep eyes stared fixedly at this most ordinary broken lock.

The brass surface of the lock body had developed a thick layer of patina due to oxidation, and the reddish-brown rust on the shackle looked like peeling scabs, mottled and unsightly.

The keyhole was of the most primitive cross shape, with rough burrs on the edges of the hole.

The most eye-catching part was the lower left corner of the lock body.

There were three clear hammer marks there.

One was extremely deep, and two were slightly shallower, forming an irregular triangular pattern.

These three hammer marks were not scars left in battle, but flaws hammered into the nearly formed lock body due to the uneven force of the hammer wielder, or perhaps distraction, during forging.

Looking at those three hammer marks, Zhou Wannian felt as if his nose caught a long-lost scent.

It was not the sour, musty Death Qi of the Taiwu Ancestral Court.

But the hot, stifling smell of furnace fire mixed with the pungent odor of coal ash.

Accompanied by the crisp "clanging, clanging" sound of a hammer striking a red-hot anvil.

The floodgates of memory were violently slammed open again by this inconspicuous, rusty iron lock.

That was a very, very long time ago.

So long ago that Zhou Wannian himself could not remember which epoch it was, or which Lower Realm world it was.

At that time, he had not yet comprehended the Great Perfection Space Law, nor did he possess this Absolute Mass that could crush the heavens.

He was just a Mortal, a Mortal blacksmith in some remote town who made a living by forging iron.

It was a rainy spring.

The rain in the town never stopped; the thin wooden door in the backyard of the blacksmith shop creaked in the wind and rain, and could never be closed tightly.

To guard against wild cats or passing drunkards breaking in at night, the young blacksmith Zhou Wannian took a piece of leftover pig iron and a few liang of brass from the furnace and cobbled together a lock.

When forging the lock, the furnace fire made him sweat profusely.

Outside, the rain pattered, and with his mind on the pot of inferior rice wine stewing on the stove, the hammer in his hand lost its accuracy.

One hammer blow was heavy, two were light.

On the lower left corner of the brass lock body, those three ugly triangular hammer marks were left behind.

The lock was finished; he didn't bother to trim the burrs, just poked the keyhole with a random piece of wire, and hung it on the rickety wooden door in the backyard.

The lock gradually rusted and grew patina in the wind and rain.

Later, the blacksmith put down his hammer and embarked on that ethereal path of cultivation.

As time flowed and seas changed into mulberry fields, the Mortal town had long since turned into a speck of dust in the Universe, and that wooden door had long since rotted into mud.

Zhou Wannian had originally thought that the junk he left behind during his Mortal period had long since been completely annihilated along the long river of time.

But now.

In the core of this Taiwu Ancestral Court, on this dark red gate that sealed the ultimate secret of the Universe.

The rusty iron lock he had forged with his own hands, bearing the three hammer marks, was actually hanging here, undamaged.

Not only had it not weathered under the erosion of time, but it was like a loyal guard, using Mortal pig iron and brass to lock tight this Primordial Gate, which even the high-dimensional Truth Realm could not shake.

The suspense of the hidden thread turned into an invisible net at this moment, trapping Zhou Wannian tightly within it.

Who did this?

Who was it that spanned endless years to find this broken lock abandoned by the blacksmith in the ruins of that long-extinct Lower Realm?

And who was it that brought this Mortal iron lock to the deepest part of this Taiwu Ancestral Court, using it to lock this core gate?

Was it the "Main Owner" at the bottom of the dry well who had devoured all the remnant souls?

Or was it the draft messenger who had shed a pale cyan tear before dissipating just now?

Or was there, throughout these long years, another pair of hands—hands he had never noticed—arranging all of this in the dark?

Zhou Wannian stood before the gate.

On that handsome face, there was, unusually, no expression.

He did not smile, nor did he frown.

He just slowly extended his fair, long right hand.

His fingers passed through the cold, dead air, reaching toward the rusty iron lock hanging on the beast-head door knocker.

His fingertips gently touched the reddish-brown rust.

"Shh..."

A few rough specks of rust flaked off the shackle, staining the pads of Zhou Wannian's pale fingers.

Cold, hard, and exuding the unique, sluggish feeling of Mortal pig iron.

This tactile sensation was so real, so real that Zhou Wannian felt as if he could hear again the sound of rain hitting banana leaves from the backyard of the blacksmith shop in that rainy town.

There was no rejection from the Great Perfection Law, nor did he encounter any backlash from high-dimensional energy.

This lock recognized its master.

Zhou Wannian quietly felt the rough tactile sensation coming from his fingertips.

He lowered his head slightly, looking at the three triangular hammer marks.

A while later.

In front of the deathly silent gate, a whisper sounded, extremely light and faint, yet filled with an indescribable meaning.

"A broken lock I made back then to keep out wild cats is now hanging here, locking the biggest mud pit in All Heavens and Myriad Worlds."

Zhou Wannian withdrew his finger, casually rubbing his two fingers together, grinding the bit of reddish-brown rust on his fingertips into powder, letting it drift down onto the black stone steps beneath his feet.

He raised his head, his gaze passing over the iron lock, looking at the tightly closed dark red gate above.

"No matter who you are, since you went through so much trouble to find the junk I threw away years ago and hang it on your own door."

Zhou Wannian folded his hands behind his back again, leaning his body slightly backward.

In his eyes, as deep as an abyss, a cold, eerie light that seemed capable of piercing through eternity flickered.

"I will open this door for you."