60: Chapter 60 Goodbye Linley!

Yulan Continent.

South Sea.

The deathly silent wait lasted for a full half-month.

The surface of the South Sea was like a solidified piece of deep blue glass.

There wasn't the slightest ripple, not even a single bird flew over.

War God O'Brien kept his hands tucked inside his sleeves, his thumbs unconsciously rubbing against his knuckles.

His patience was almost exhausted by this eerie atmosphere.

The High Priest remained as wooden as ever, though her emerald eyes occasionally swept toward the sky.

Dylin and Cesar each occupied a stretch of water, guarding against each other.

For the past half-month, the four of them hadn't dared to speak a word.

Because Beirut stood in front of them with his eyes closed.

There was not a shred of Aura on this old man, yet he felt like an insurmountable ancient divine mountain, pressing heavily on everyone's hearts.

Allen, however, was at leisure.

He simply sat cross-legged, hovering above the sea surface, his mind completely immersed in the deduction of [Six-Element Fusion].

What others considered agonizing wasted time was, for him, a rare opportunity for closed-door cultivation.

His Fire God Clone had already stepped into the Midgod Realm, and the [Profound Mystery of Explosion] had reached Perfection.

But to completely break down and reorganize the six profound mysteries, even with the heaven rewards diligence system, it required a massive accumulation of time.

"Hum—"

The deathly silent sea surface suddenly emitted a strange hum.

Space seemed to be torn apart by an invisible hand, pulling open a huge, pitch-black fissure out of thin air.

Beirut finally opened those small eyes that shimmered with a faint, eerie light.

"They are out."

He uttered these three words unhurriedly.

As soon as the words fell, dozens of figures scrambled out from the pitch-black fissure in a sorry state, like dumplings being dropped into a pot.

Some were covered in blood, their left arms missing.

Some were vomiting large mouthfuls of blood, their weapons broken in half.

These were the Saint-level Experts who had just escaped from the Necropolis of the Gods.

Ten years of slaughter. Less than half of those who went in came out alive.

"Lord Beirut!"

First Disciple Faen didn't bother to wipe the blood from his face, flying into the sky and kneeling on one knee first.

Immediately after, Desri, Tulirei, and a group of Peak Saint-level Experts knelt down in unison.

They paid their respects to the high and mighty God-level Expert.

Especially when facing Beirut. In the eyes of these unruly Saint-level Experts, there was only the purest fanaticism and awe.

Everyone knew who the true Dominator of this continent was. Who the guardian of this cemetery, which buried countless gods, truly was.

"Grandpa!"

A bolt of black lightning suddenly shot out from the crowd.

Ignoring all etiquette, it bypassed the War God and the others, landing steadily on Beirut's shoulder.

It was a palm-sized Shadowmouse.

Bebe nuzzled against Beirut's cheek affectionately, letting out aggrieved whimpers.

This act of lèse-majesté caused many Saint-level Experts who were seeing this for the first time to gasp in shock.

But the next second, they saw an even more horrifying scene.

On Beirut's perpetually gloomy, wrinkled face, a smile of extreme kindness bloomed.

He extended his withered finger, dotingly scratching Bebe's chin.

"Oh my."

"Bebe, have you suffered inside?"

The voice was so gentle it made people's scalps tingle.

Dylin swallowed hard and quickly averted his gaze.

He only felt that this old monster was truly capricious, and it was best not to try to fathom his thoughts.

"That's enough."

"You little guys, go catch up on your own."

Beirut waved his hand casually. He was now fully focused on teasing his grandson and had no time to deal with this bunch of smelly Saint-level Experts.

Having received the amnesty, this group of Saint-level Experts finally dared to let out a long breath of relief.

Their nerves, which had been tense for ten years, finally relaxed for a moment at this instant.

The crowd began to disperse. Linley, carrying that iconic Blackrock heavy sword on his back, strode toward the direction where Allen was.

His gaze was locked tightly onto this man in the black robe.

Ten years of life-and-death trials. Linley's strength had already undergone earth-shaking changes.

He was confident that among Saint-level Experts, he rarely met an opponent.

But when he faced Allen again, that sense of powerlessness, like looking up at a high mountain, was even stronger than it had been back in the Magical Beast Mountain Range.

In front of this man, he felt like a single drop of water facing the vast ocean.

"Lord Allen."

Linley bowed deeply, his tone filled with absolute sincerity.

Back in the Magical Beast Mountain Range, if it hadn't been for Allen pointing out a few mysteries regarding Momentum and Law, he would have definitely taken countless detours on his path during the Early Stages of cultivation.

They met by chance, yet Allen had taught and guided him. Linley had always kept this kindness in his heart.

Allen nodded slightly. He sized Linley up for a moment and sensed the restless fluctuations of the Laws of Earth within him.

This kid wasn't far from becoming a god.

Although the original trajectory had been messed up by him, the protagonist's halo was still quite resilient.

"It's good that you came out alive."

Allen's tone was flat; he didn't deliberately try to win him over, nor did he put on an air of cold arrogance.

His vision was already far beyond that of a child of the plane who had yet to become a god.

"Big Brother!"

A rough voice broke the silence. Yale, with a head of messy hair, squeezed over without any regard for his image.

He was now a genuine Saint Magician, but in front of Allen, he was still that little brother who liked to act spoiled.

Yale grabbed Allen's arm and began to complain like a machine gun.

"Big Brother, you don't know."

"That fifth level, it's simply not a place for humans!"

"The sky was full of ice blades; I almost turned into meat paste."

As Yale spoke, he pulled out a necklace from his neck. This was the defensive Divine Artifact that Allen had casually thrown to him before entering the cemetery.

"If it weren't for this treasure."

"You wouldn't be seeing me today!"

Yale patted his chest with lingering fear. Ten years of crazily testing the edge of life and death had completely shattered his arrogance as a prince of the Dawson Empire.

He finally understood that in this place where monsters ran rampant, his Saint-level cultivation, which he had been so proud of, didn't amount to anything at all.

Not far behind Yale, a dozen or so Saint-level Experts wearing the uniform robes of the Dawson Empire stood respectfully in two rows.

They didn't even dare to breathe loudly, fearing they might disturb the figure in front.

For these experts who had joined the Empire later, the name Allen Dawson was a myth living in legend.

Two Divine-Grade Demonic Beasts had swept across most of the continent. Breaking into the Radiant Church was like entering an empty place.

Yet this true master rarely showed himself. Seeing him in person for the first time today, that invisible pressure made them lack the courage to even look up.

Allen patted Yale on the shoulder.

"Being able to recognize that you are a piece of trash means this trip wasn't a waste."

His words were merciless, directly shattering the little thought Yale had just raised.

Yale grimaced but didn't dare to retort. He understood that his big brother never spoke nonsense; these words were a warning not to be overly ambitious.

Another half an hour passed. Beirut seemed to have had enough fun teasing Bebe and tucked it back into Linley's arms.

He turned around, the kindness on his face instantly vanishing completely.