160: Chapter 160 The Illusory Realm in the Valley, the Past Like Smoke

The moment he stepped into Burial King Valley, Lin Fan felt an indescribable sense of oppression.

It wasn't an external attack, but a resonance from deep within his heart—as if countless gazes were casting upon him and the three hundred War Guards behind him from the depths of the gray mist.

Su Zhiqing tightened her grip on her sword slightly. "Extremely strong obsessions linger here."

"The place where the Eternal Battle Group was wiped out ten thousand years ago." Lin Fan didn't stop. "Three thousand warriors followed the Emperor, fighting to the last man. Their obsessions have not dissipated to this day."

Xia Qingyue looked around. Jagged rocks and dead ancient trees were faintly visible in the gray mist. Though these ancient trees had been dead for ten thousand years, their branches remained upright, as if they were still guarding something.

"Are they still waiting?" she asked softly.

Lin Fan did not answer.

Because he didn't know the answer either.

The middle route was longer than expected.

The team moved along a faintly discernible ancient path. Every ten zhang along the way stood a stone tablet, each carved with different names and deeds.

"Deputy Commander of the Seventh Guard, Zhou Guang, died in battle in the 9721st year of the Extinction Era, aged 437."

"War Guard of the Third Guard, Li Gandang, died in battle in the 9721st year of the Extinction Era, aged 293."

"War Guard of the Fifth Guard, Wang Polu, died in battle in the 9721st year of the Extinction Era, aged 362."

...Tablet after tablet, name after name, fragments of past events buried by ten thousand years of time.

The three hundred War Guards walked past in silence; no one spoke.

Many of them would never live to the ages corresponding to those names. Many had not yet reached the age those warriors were when they died.

But the owners of those names had, ten thousand years ago, walked into this dead land without hesitation for the sake of a certain conviction.

"Young Lord." Lin Pojun suddenly spoke, his voice somewhat raspy. "These people... did they all die following the Emperor?"

"Yes."

"Then the Emperor himself? Is he also buried here?"

Lin Fan stopped and looked ahead.

The gray mist thinned here, revealing a massive stone platform. The platform was empty except for a sword thrust into the rock; the blade was covered in rust, and a jade pendant hung from the hilt.

Two words were carved on the jade pendant: 'Eternal'.

"The Emperor's sword," Lin Fan said softly. "He used his sword as a monument and was buried here."

Su Zhiqing's gaze fell upon the sword, a strange light flashing in her eyes. "That sword is still alive."

"What?" Xia Qingyue was startled.

"There is a spirit within the sword." As a Sword Cultivator, Su Zhiqing's perception of swords far exceeded ordinary people. "Though faint, it truly exists. It is waiting—" Before she could finish, the rusty sword suddenly began to vibrate.

Rust fell away in flakes, revealing the bright, snow-white blade beneath. A line of small characters was carved in the center of the blade, the handwriting bold and powerful:

"Latecomer, to reach this place, you have passed the trials of the first seven gates."

"The next gate is named 'The Past'."

"This gate holds no killing intent, no danger. You need only answer one question—"

"Who are you?" As the voice faded, heaven and earth changed abruptly.

Lin Fan found himself standing inside a military tent.

From outside the tent came earth-shaking battle cries, the clashing of metal, and the screams of the dying. Inside the tent, a middle-aged man stood with his back to him, clad in battle armor with a longsword hanging at his waist.

The man slowly turned around.

Lin Fan saw his own face.

No, it wasn't himself.

It was another 'Lin Fan'.

The man's features were seventy percent similar to Lin Fan's, but his eyes were more weathered, and white hair had begun to grow at his temples. He looked at Lin Fan, his gaze as calm as water.

"You've come."

Lin Fan did not move.

He knew this was an illusion, a trial set by that sword.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The man smiled. "You should be asking, who am I?"

He raised his hand and pointed outside the tent.

"Go out and see, and you will know."

Lin Fan walked out of the tent.

Before him was a battlefield where blood flowed like rivers and corpses littered the ground. Countless warriors in black armor were fighting overwhelming numbers of demonic creatures; people fell every moment.

In the center of the battlefield, a figure stood proudly. It was a young man whose face was identical to Lin Fan's, holding a pitch-black longsword, with gray air currents swirling around him like a tornado. Every time he swung his sword, hundreds or thousands of demonic creatures were turned to ash.

But his opponents were too many.

So many they could not be finished.

"Do you see clearly?" a voice came from behind.

Lin Fan turned around; the middle-aged man had stood beside him at some unknown point.

"That is you," the middle-aged man said. "It is also me. And it is every person who sets foot on this path."

"This path is destined to be lonely, destined to be difficult, and destined to be paved with the lives of countless people."

"Are you ready?"

Lin Fan remained silent.

He watched that young 'self' on the battlefield, watched him fight a bloody battle, watched the people around him fall one by one, watched his gaze turn from fiery to exhausted, from exhausted to numb, and finally to dead silence.

"Is this the Emperor's end?" he asked.

"No." The middle-aged man shook his head. "The Emperor's end was even more tragic than this."

He pointed into the distance.

There stood a high platform, and upon it was a white-haired man holding that rusty sword, facing the overwhelming demonic army alone.

"That was the final battle," the middle-aged man said. "The Emperor ordered the Eternal Battle Group to retreat while he held the rear alone. The three thousand warriors refused to leave, so he used the power of eternity to Seal them, letting them wait where they were."

"Waiting for what?"

"Waiting for someone who can inherit this path."

The middle-aged man looked at Lin Fan. "It is you."

Lin Fan was silent for a long time.

"Is he dead?"

"Dead," the middle-aged man said. "But also alive."

"What do you mean?"

"You carry his mark." The middle-aged man pointed to Lin Fan's chest. "That crystal of loyal bones is the relic of Qin Yue, the Commander of the Seventh Guard. Qin Yue was sealed by the Emperor back then; ten thousand years later he encountered you and handed his final obsession to you."

"You already possess a part of the Emperor."

Lin Fan looked down at his chest.

There, the crystal of loyal bones was heating up, as if responding to something.

"So what is the answer to this gate?" he asked.

The middle-aged man smiled.

"You have already given the answer."

"When you walked in, you did not hesitate."

"When you chose the middle route, you did not hesitate."

"When you brought three hundred people in, you did not hesitate."

"You knew the answer long ago."

He took a step back, and his form began to dissipate.

"Who are you?"

"You are Lin Fan."

"And the person we have waited ten thousand years for."

"Go, the Emperor is waiting for you."

As the words fell, the tent, the battlefield, the mountain of corpses and sea of blood—everything dissipated.

Lin Fan opened his eyes and found himself still standing before the stone platform.

Behind him, the three hundred War Guards all had their eyes closed, their faces showing various expressions—some were smiling, some were crying, some were gritting their teeth, as if they were experiencing something.

Su Zhiqing and Xia Qingyue also had their eyes closed.

Only Lin Fan was awake.

He looked at the rusty sword; the rust had completely fallen away, and the snow-white blade reflected his face.

The voice of the sword spirit rang in his mind:

"You are the only one who passed the trial."

"Because you were not just 'watching', you were 'becoming'."

Lin Fan was silent for a moment before asking, "What about them?"

"They are experiencing their own pasts," the sword spirit said. "This gate has no standard answer; everyone faces their own past. If they can walk out, they gain an Opportunity; if they cannot—"

It paused. "—they remain inside forever."

Lin Fan's brow furrowed slightly.

He turned to look at the three hundred War Guards, at Su Zhiqing, and at Xia Qingyue.

Their facial expressions were varied.

Lin Pojun clenched his fists tightly, his teeth gritted, and tears slid from the corners of his eyes.

A young War Guard was trembling, his lips moving as he repeatedly muttered something.

Su Zhiqing's face was calm, but the hand holding her sword was slightly white.

Xia Qingyue's brow was tightly locked, with tear marks at the corners of her eyes.

"How long will they need?" Lin Fan asked.

"It varies from person to person," the sword spirit said. "For some, the time it takes for an incense stick to burn; for others, three days; and some never wake up."

Lin Fan fell silent.

He didn't ask further, nor did he try to wake anyone up.

This was their own path; they had to walk it themselves.

He sat down cross-legged and began to regulate his breathing.

An hour later, Lin Pojun was the first to open his eyes.

His eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze was firmer than before. Seeing Lin Fan looking at him, he knelt on one knee.

"Young Lord, I have come out."

Lin Fan nodded. "What did you see?"

Lin Pojun was silent for a moment. "I saw my father. When he died in battle, I was only seven. I always thought I had long forgotten what he looked like, but just now—"

He paused. "It turns out I remember; I remember every detail."

Lin Fan did not offer comfort, only saying, "It's good that you remember. Remember, and then continue moving forward."

"Yes!"

The second to wake was Su Zhiqing.

When she opened her eyes, there wasn't much expression on her face, but Lin Fan noticed a very faint tear mark at the corner of her eye, which she had quietly wiped away with her spiritual power.

She said nothing, and Lin Fan did not ask.

The third to wake was Xia Qingyue.

She opened her eyes and looked at Lin Fan with a complex gaze. But she also did not speak, simply walking to his side to stand shoulder to shoulder.

One hour, two hours... people woke up one after another.

Some wailed loudly, some were silent, some knelt and kowtowed, some roared at the sky.

But everyone woke up.

Three hundred War Guards, twelve Great Xia Imperial Guard, Su Zhiqing, Xia Qingyue—not a single person was lost.

Lin Fan stood up and looked at the rusty sword.

"They have all come out."

The sword spirit was silent for a moment, its voice carrying a hint of emotion:

"Ten thousand years... finally, such a group of people has been waited for."

"Emperor, you can rest in peace." As the words fell, the rusty sword suddenly disintegrated, turning into countless golden points of light.

The points of light did not dissipate but drifted toward the three hundred War Guards, merging into their bodies.

In an instant, the auras of the three hundred people surged simultaneously.

Some broke through Bottlenecks that had trapped them for years, some stepped into entirely new Realms, some gained a sharp Sword Intent within their bodies, and some had their Divine Souls tempered and solidified. This was the Emperor's final gift.

To all who passed the trial.

Lin Fan did not stop it, nor was he greedy.

He stood there quietly, watching the three hundred War Guards undergo a complete transformation, watching silver light shine around Xia Qingyue, and watching a flash of realization in Su Zhiqing's eyes.

In the gray mist, a voice came from afar:

"Come."

"I am at the deepest part, waiting for you."

Lin Fan looked toward the depths of the valley floor.

There, the gray mist surged, and a massive mausoleum was faintly visible.

The Emperor's burial ground.

He stepped forward.

The three hundred War Guards rose together and followed closely behind.

Su Zhiqing gripped her sword and followed.

Xia Qingyue walked alongside him.

And behind them, the final voice of the sword spirit slowly dissipated:

"Emperor, the successor you waited for has come."

"Bringing a group of people willing to follow him."

"Just like you were back then."

"Just like we were back then."

The gray mist surged, swallowing the team.

And in the deeper darkness, Xuesha licked his lips.

"They're all here. Good, very good."

Behind him, a blood-colored figure quietly emerged.

The Shadow Kill Tower's Blood Kill Envoy had arrived.