Chapter 307: Qin Feng in Deep Secluded Cultivation, the Final Decisive Battle is Approaching!

Chapter 307: Qin Feng’s deep seclusion, the final showdown approaches! A bloodbath on the inner island!

Meanwhile, within the command hall, as orders were issued one by one, figures radiating a terrifying aura emerged from the shadows or their respective chambers of seclusion.

They were the "hunters," meticulously handpicked by the Allied Races to eliminate Qin Feng.

The first to step forward was a hulking figure composed entirely of dark-gold rock.

With every step he took, the floor of the hall groaned with a dull thud, as if it were not a man walking, but a moving mountain range.

His features were ancient and rugged, his eyes burning with an inextinguishable flame of hatred. This was Shi Lan, the top prodigy of the Stone Race, who had suffered defeat at Qin Feng’s hands multiple times and had long since marked him as his lifelong nemesis.

He was consumed by a singular, obsessive desire to kill Qin Feng.

To him, this hunt was both a mission and a destiny.

The second to appear was eerie to the extreme.

He seemed to seep out from the shadows of the air, possessing no fixed form, merely a swirling, shifting mass of darkness.

Had one not been paying close attention, his presence might have gone entirely unnoticed.

He was Wu Hen, the most brilliant assassin of the current Shadow Race generation, hailed as the "Blade of No Trace."

In the environment of the Dead Meteor Island, his tracking and assassination skills would be pushed to their absolute limit.

He was a born hunter, a grim reaper walking through the dark.

Following him came a heavy, rhythmic breathing, sounding like the roar of a gargantuan beast.

A figure so massive it nearly filled half the hall lumbered inside.

He was covered in dark-gold scales, carrying a colossal shell on his back that resembled both a tortoise’s carapace and a mountain, etched with natural Dao patterns.

Every step he took caused visible ripples in space; his pure, brute strength seemed capable of crushing all resistance.

This was Ba Xia, an elite of the Starry Sky Behemoth race, possessing the legendary bloodline of the ancients.

His defense and power were considered the pinnacle within the God-Forbidden domain.

He was the ultimate weapon forged for frontal assault, an immovable bastion.

The fourth figure exuded the perfect aesthetic of technology fused with natural law.

He was of the Machine Race, but unlike the intelligence officer, his body was crafted from an unknown metal as smooth as obsidian, with lines both fluid and powerful.

Floating behind him were twelve energy blades of varying designs, forming a slowly rotating ring.

In his optical sensors, instead of red light, flickered a pale blue data stream that seemed to perceive all things.

He was Jue Ce, one of the strongest prodigies of the new Machine generation.

He possessed analytical capabilities rivaling a super-intelligence, capable of simulating billions of combat scenarios in an instant to find the optimal solution.

His strength lay in precision, efficiency, and a complete lack of flaws.

His grasp of formations was nothing short of heaven-defying.

The fifth to emerge caused the temperature of the entire hall to plummet.

It was a withered figure shrouded in tattered black robes; his face was obscured, revealing only fingers like gnarled branches reaching from beneath the cloth.

Around him swirled visible gray mists of death, and the air carried the faint, mournful wails of countless souls.

He was Si Qi, an elder of the Necro Race, an ancient monster who had lived for countless eons, master of all forbidden arts related to death and the soul.

His curses were formless and intangible, impossible to guard against.

He was the natural bane of all flesh-and-blood creatures.

The final figure stood in stark contrast to Si Qi.

The moment he appeared, it was as if a miniature sun had risen within the hall.

Brilliant, warm, and imbued with a terrifying power of purification, holy light radiated from his body, instantly dispelling the deathly aura brought by Si Qi.

He wore ornate white armor, his face was handsome, his long golden hair flowed like radiance, and six wings made of pure light extended from his back.

This was Chen Guang, the prince of the Holy Light Race, known as the "Sword of Dawn."

He wielded the most masculine and righteous holy power in the universe, the natural enemy of necromancy, demons, and all negative energies.

His very existence was designed to suppress specific foes.

Shi Lan, Wu Hen, Ba Xia, Jue Ce, Si Qi, and Chen Guang.

Six top-tier powerhouses from different races, representing different domains, stood silently in the center of the hall.

Any one of them, taken alone, was a hegemon capable of suppressing an entire star sector.

Each was a prodigy who had emerged from countless bloody battles within their own kin, a peak Domain Lord who had stepped into the God-Forbidden realm.

Now, these six distinct yet equally terrifying auras converged, creating a pressure so immense that any existence below the rank of Marquis would feel nothing but despair.

This was the answer of the Allied Races.

Faced with a "monster" that could not be handled by conventional means, they chose to deploy a team of six even more terrifying "monsters" to conduct an ultimate hunt destined to turn the outer reaches of Dead Meteor Island upside down.

The cold voice of the Prism Emperor issued the final command for the coming storm.

"Find him, and then... at any cost, kill him."

The standoff at the Blood Abyss began here.

And at the other end of the chessboard, the prey regarded as the ultimate target, Qin Feng, was not entirely unaware.

...

At the core of a dead star, a place of absolute silence wrapped in endless light and heat.

This was the furnace of the universe, a natural and perfect fortress.

And at the heart of this furnace, within a crude cave dwelling constructed from unknown divine metal, Qin Feng sat cross-legged.

His body was like a sculpture from the dawn of time, every breath resonating in mysterious harmony with the pulse of the dead star.

Pure stellar energy, refined to the extreme, was drawn and tamed by the invisible force field around him, flowing like a stream into his limbs and bones.

Deep within his sea of consciousness, inside a mental space built from "pure black quality" spiritual energy, streams of information were being parsed and reorganized at speeds exceeding light.

This was the highest-level encrypted intelligence from his undercover avatar, "Pili Huo."

The intelligence had crossed vast distances via a highly secretive subspace channel, projecting precisely into Qin Feng’s consciousness.

Massive amounts of data were categorized: the strategic retreat of the Allied Races, the defensive deployment of the Blood Abyss base, images from the remote conferences of the Emperor-ranked powerhouses, and even detailed dossiers on every member of the "Elite Hunting Squad" formed specifically for him. In an instant, it was all organized into intuitive 3D models and summaries, presented before Qin Feng’s "eyes."

Qin Feng’s eyes, as calm and deep as an ancient well, slowly opened.

The content of the intelligence did not stir even the slightest ripple in his heart; there was no shock, no gravity, and certainly no fear.

He simply reviewed it all with composure.

When he saw that the Allied armies had retreated entirely into the Blood Abyss, abandoning all outer island strongholds, his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

"A pity."

A soft sigh echoed in his absolutely silent laboratory.

This sigh was not born of difficulty regarding the enemy’s gathering strength, but rather a pure, almost scientific sense of regret.

In his grand design, he required at least thirty more high-level domain masters of diverse races as experimental subjects over the next five centuries.

These included the "Phantom Spirit" race, famed for their psychic prowess, the "Holy Light" race, existing as pure energy, and the "Insectoid" race, possessing the most peculiar biological structures.

The life forms and energy circulation patterns of these species held vital reference value for the "Energy Conversion Efficiency" and "Universal Biological Array Inscription" modules within his burgeoning theory of "Ultimate Arcane Arts."

He had already locked onto several potential target squads via "Thunderbolt," having simulated the routes and methods of their capture no fewer than ten thousand times.

Provided he followed his schedule, he could steadily advance the perfection of his Ultimate Arcane Arts by at least ten percent within these five centuries.

However, this strategic retreat by the myriad races had utterly dismantled his research agenda.

All troops had converged into a single point, forming an impenetrable shell of a tortoise.

To find isolated, high-quality specimens on the outer islands as easily as before had become an impossible task.

This displeased him, much like a painter nearing the completion of a masterpiece, only to find the essential pigments had been spirited away.

His gaze then fell upon the six names highlighted with particular emphasis.

Stone race, Shi Lan.

Shadow race, Wu Hen.

Starry Sky Behemoth, Ba Xia.

Mechanical race, Judgment.

Undead race, Si Qi.

Holy Light race, Chen Guang.

Behind every name lay exhaustive data collected by "Thunderbolt" and recorded in the human database.

Their famous victories, habitual techniques, personality traits, and even analyses of their potential weaknesses were all meticulously listed.

"A hunting squad, is it..."

Qin Feng’s fingertip traced lightly over Shi Lan’s name in the void, his eyes calm and rippleless.

He accorded sufficient importance to what was arguably the strongest lineup the allied myriad races could muster at the domain master level, but nothing more.

His current strength was no longer comparable to when he first entered the Island of Dead Meteors.

After over fifteen hundred years of secluded cultivation, hunting, and experimentation, his combat system had reached perfection.

In terms of defense, the "Primordial Singularity" foundation, coupled with his tempered physique, had forged a true "immortal body."

Even facing the siege of these six, he held absolute confidence that they could not kill him in a short time.

In terms of speed, the "Black Sky Wings," refined through constant insight and fusion beyond a thousand times the speed of light, had become even more ghostly and unpredictable, granting him the absolute initiative in both pursuit and flight.

In terms of attack, the extreme penetration of "Inch Radiance," combined with the annihilation properties of his "Pure Black" psychic power, meant a one-hit kill against any defense below the Divine Prohibition.

Even against the defenses of Shi Lan or Ba Xia, it posed a lethal threat.

What truly troubled him was that the existence of this squad would severely interfere with his subsequent cultivation.

What he needed now was not battle, but time.

Time that was absolutely quiet and undisturbed, to complete the final step of his "Ultimate Arcane Arts" from theory to practice.

Once the arcane art was initially constructed, his strength would undergo a true, explosive leap.

Only then would he have the confidence to truly "carve his way through" this Island of Dead Meteors.

These six hunters, like flies, would undoubtedly become obstacles on his path of cultivation.

They would search tirelessly, probe with every method, and compress his range of activity, forcing him to waste precious energy on endless hiding and maneuvering.

"The plan must change."

Qin Feng’s thoughts raced, countless countermeasures generating, colliding, and optimizing within his sea of consciousness, until, in mere seconds, a brand-new, most secure plan had taken shape.

His eyes regained that depth and calm that saw through all things.

With a flick of his mind, piles of rare god-metal ores within the laboratory began to levitate automatically.

Under the precise control of his psychic power, these ores melted, decomposed, and reorganized at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"Spread the eyes."

He uttered the concise command.

Countless nano-mechanical insects, as fine as dust, were rapidly manufactured under his will.

Their shells utilized "Void Dark Matter," a material capable of absorbing most energy fluctuations, and were inscribed with top-tier "Mimetic Concealment Arrays."

Some resembled cosmic dust, others fractured rock particles, and some could even simulate the distortion of light, blending seamlessly into the environment.

These were the eyes he had prepared for the "Hunting Squad."

As Qin Feng flicked his finger, an invisible energy ripple expanded outward.

Millions of micro-mechanical avatars, like dandelion seeds, silently pierced the energy barrier of the dead star and drifted with the cosmic storms to every corner of the outer islands.

They possessed no offensive capability, not even a semblance of defense.

Their sole purpose was to "see" and "hear."

They would attach themselves to meteorites, hide in rift valleys, and float within spatial turbulence, forming an unprecedented, all-encompassing intelligence network.

From this moment on, every move of the "Hunting Squad" would be under the surveillance of this vast web, with nowhere to hide.

Having done this, Qin Feng triggered his communication jade talisman once more; this time, he contacted Cang Lang, the commander-in-chief of the temporary human headquarters.

"Notify Cang Lang."

An encrypted stream of information was precisely transmitted into the mountain depths.

...

At the temporary human headquarters, hidden deep within the mountain by arrays, Commander-in-Chief Cang Lang stared grimly at the central light screen, which displayed the now-minimized area of human activity.

Over fifteen hundred years, although his warriors had avoided large-scale casualties thanks to Qin Feng’s intelligence, sporadic skirmishes had still reduced the number of survivors.

Just then, the communication jade talisman representing the highest authority before him suddenly lit up.

Cang Lang’s spirit stirred, and he immediately connected with reverence. It was a communication from "War Marshal" Qin Feng.

"War Marshal!"

"Cang Lang."

Qin Feng’s steady voice came through, devoid of pleasantries, straight to the point: "The myriad races have changed their strategy; all troops have retreated to the Blood Abyss. The clearing plan for the outer islands has been terminated."

Cang Lang was stunned, a trace of joy appearing on his face.

This was undoubtedly good news, meaning the pressure they faced would be drastically reduced.

However, Qin Feng’s next words caused his heart to sink to the bottom.

"...To this end, the allied myriad races have established a 'Hunting Squad' composed of six peak Divine Prohibition-level domain masters, specifically tasked with searching for and killing me on the outer islands. Here are their detailed files."

As the words fell, a massive stream of information flooded the headquarters' light screen.

Shi Lan, Wu Hen, Ba Xia, Judgment, Si Qi, Chen Guang... six thunderous names, along with their desperate combat records and capability analyses, were clearly presented before Cang Lang and all the high-ranking officials of the headquarters.

A deathly silence descended upon the command center, stifling even the sound of breath.

Every name mentioned stood as an insurmountable mountain.

Any one of them would have been enough to trouble a peak Domain Lord of the Grey Wolf’s caliber.

Yet now, there were six—six of them united for the sole purpose of hunting down Qin Feng.

"This..."

Grey Wolf’s voice was parched; he could scarcely imagine the terrifying pressure Qin Feng was currently enduring.

"My orders," Qin Feng’s voice remained calm, yet carried an unquestionable majesty, "from this moment on, all human squads are to enter the highest level of 'Silent Lurking.' Contract all operational ranges, conceal every trace of your presence, and strictly forbid any form of contact with the outside world. Your mission is simply to hide."

"Until I revoke this order, even if the armies of the myriad races pass by your hiding place, you are forbidden to strike unless you are discovered!"

"You must treat yourselves as stones, as specks of dust, and vanish entirely from this battlefield."

Qin Feng’s command was absolute and uncompromising.

He intended to eliminate all uncontrollable variables, carving out a relatively safe external environment for himself.

Grey Wolf drew a deep breath, his chest heaving with a sense of helplessness and dread.

He longed to say, "Let us share the burden," but reason told him that with their meager strength, facing those six God-Forbidden prodigies would be like throwing eggs against a rock, serving only to become a liability to Qin Feng.

He straightened his spine, which had been stooped for a thousand years, and into the communication jade, he roared his response with every ounce of his strength:

"Understood! We shall strictly obey the War Marshal's command!"

After severing the connection, Grey Wolf turned immediately to issue a series of directives to his subordinates.

Orders were rapidly disseminated, and the remaining sparks of humanity scattered across the Dead Meteor Island began to enter the deepest state of concealment with all possible haste. Within the core of the dead star, having completed these arrangements, Qin Feng slowly stood up.

"And now... deep seclusion. I shall not emerge until I break through to the Domain Lord realm."

He walked to the far end of the laboratory.

Simultaneously, he pushed the defensive arrays of the entire laboratory to their absolute limit.

The entrance to the cavern was sealed by tens of thousands of formations, severing all contact with the outside world, leaving only a one-way channel for incoming intelligence.

This dead star would serve as his most formidable fortress during his retreat.

Meanwhile, countless eyes were fixed on the movements of the six God-Forbidden peak Domain Lords; should the slightest possibility of discovery arise, Qin Feng would flee instantly.

His speed held a massive advantage, faster than any of those six terrifying prodigies.

Qin Feng returned to the center of the cavern, sat cross-legged, and closed his eyes.

This time, he would immerse himself completely in his own world of martial arts.

He would melt all the knowledge, experimental data, and combat insights accumulated over the past fifteen hundred years into a single crucible, putting his perfected "Ultimate Secret Technique" theoretical template into practice while simultaneously forging a multitude of arrays!

This was a monumental project, a bridge from theory to reality.

His consciousness sank deep into the core of his being.

...

Time, on this forgotten land of Dead Meteor Island, lost its measure once more.

As the million-strong army of the myriad races retreated like a receding tide toward the Blood Abyss, and as the last survivors of humanity vanished without a trace, the vast outer regions of the Dead Meteor Island fell into an unprecedented, chilling, and eerie stillness.

The slaughter and explosions that had once been ubiquitous vanished.

The frantic surges of energy that had erupted periodically subsided.

The boundless asteroid belts, the silent plains of ruins, and the deep, dark canyon fissures seemed to return to their primordial, eternal state of deathly silence.

Yet, beneath this shroud of silence, six figures roamed like lonely reapers, tireless and relentless.

Atop a blood-colored mountain range, Shi Lan’s massive frame stood perfectly still.

His feet seemed fused with the earth itself, his vast divine sense mingling with the fluctuations of the earth’s laws, sweeping over every inch of the land for millions of miles like liquid mercury.

He was sensing—sensing any heartbeat that did not belong to this land.

His eyes were filled with determination and persistence.

The reason was simple: he had smelled the scent of the Stone Buddha on Qin Feng... among the many disciples of the Tantric Grand Elder, only one could survive, and that one would have to face the Grand Elder’s possession.

Shi Lan felt he had to be the one to survive.

The Qin Feng entrusted by the Stone Buddha had come to kill him, and therefore, he must slay Qin Feng!

In a void shrouded in eternal shadow, Wu Hen of the Shadow Race saw his form almost entirely assimilated into the darkness.

He released no aura, not even a flicker of divine sense.

He drifted silently, like a phantom that did not exist.

His method of perception was unique; he was listening to the lamentations of space.

Any high-speed movement or secret teleportation would leave "ripples" in the fabric of space imperceptible to mortals, and he was the ultimate hunter tracking these very ripples.

Across the vast plains of ruins, the Starry Sky Behemoth Ba Xia, in his true form, moved with brutal force.

His body, vast as a continent, triggered violent earthquakes with every shift.

He traversed the land in the most primitive, unreasonable way, crushing it inch by inch.

Any crater or subterranean cave that might serve as a hiding place was leveled under his relentless trampling.

He believed that in the face of absolute power, all camouflage was meaningless.

In the cold vacuum of space, the Mechanical Race’s Adjudicator displayed a different style of search.

His main body remained motionless, like a cold metal statue.

Yet, from within him, billions of probes, smaller than dust, were released. These probes formed a massive array, scanning and analyzing every patch of space across thousands of dimensions—energy, matter, soul, and information.

His mind, like the most precise supercomputer, processed massive amounts of data, attempting to find that one anomalous "variable" within this deathly silence.

In another region, the strange duo of Si Qi from the Undead Race and Chen Guang from the Holy Light Race formed a distinct domain.

Si Qi was surrounded by visible, grey death energy.

Wherever this aura passed, all things withered, and even light grew dim.

He was using the laws of death to sense the presence of "life."

Any living creature within his ultimate domain of death would stand out like a torch in the dead of night.

In stark contrast, Chen Guang radiated a holy light as brilliant as the sun.

His light was supreme and righteous, purifying all evil and dispelling all shadows.

A "fierce god" like Qin Feng, who had slaughtered without count, would inevitably be stained with endless baleful energy and resentment, and under the illumination of his holy light, there would be nowhere to hide.

Death and Holy Light—one dark, one bright, one negative, one positive—wove a inescapable net in a strangely complementary fashion.

These six God-Forbidden prodigies, standing at the peak of the Domain Lord level, employed every method they could conceive.

But ultimately, the Dead Meteor Island suppressed the range of spiritual detection, which meant that even for them, the search was agonizingly slow.

The Dead Meteor Island was simply too vast.

Their search continued for a year, a decade, a century...

Time, in this contest of patience, had become utterly meaningless.

They were like six of the most persistent fishermen, casting their nets day after day into a seemingly empty, dead sea, waiting for the one great fish to reveal even the slightest trace of its existence.

And the target of their search, Qin Feng, had long since severed all ties with the world outside.

Deep within the core of the dead star, a place no living soul could tread, he had sunk into the deepest level of cultivation.

His consciousness was entirely withdrawn into his own body.

Under his "inner vision," his physique had transformed into a vast, sprawling universe.

The trillions of cells were the stars within that cosmos.

The ceaseless flow of blood was the celestial river coursing through the star-sea.

Sinews, bones, viscera, and meridians were the fundamental laws and framework that constructed this universe.

At this moment, with the "Primordial Singularity" as his core, his "pure black quality" spiritual power as his chisel, and his boundless reservoir of knowledge as his blueprint, he was engaged in a monumental project within this "internal universe"—a feat unprecedented and likely never to be repeated.

One by one, basic formations were inscribed upon his viscera and meridian nodes under his precise control.

"Spirit Gathering Formation," "Body Refining Formation," "Conversion Formation," "Fortification Formation"...

Tens of millions of basic formations, each with distinct functions, were lit up within his body like stars.

It was an incredibly tedious process, demanding a level of precision that was nothing short of maddening.

The slightest error could lead to an energy conflict; at best, all previous efforts would be wasted, and at worst, his physical body would collapse.

Yet, Qin Feng’s heart remained as calm as an eternal glacial lake.

His "pure black quality" spiritual power had pushed his cognitive abilities and control to their absolute limits.

His three secondary crafts—formation, artifact refining, and alchemy—were already comparable to those of a Domain Lord, providing a solid theoretical foundation for this transformation.

Time slipped away, second by second, in this standoff between extreme external stillness and internal motion.

The tranquility of the Island of Dead Stars was the final, suffocating silence before the storm.

Everyone knew that whether the hunter found the prey first, or the prey broke through its confinement... the moment this silence was shattered, it would be earth-shattering.

It would sound the final prelude to this thousand-year war on the Island of Death.

...

Inner Island of the Island of Dead Stars.

Words could no longer accurately describe the desolation and ruin of this realm; it was more like a graveyard utterly abandoned by the Great Dao, a scene of extinction that would only appear after the end of the universe.

The sky was neither blue nor pitch black, but a dull, muted purple, stained by the grievances and hatred of endless ages.

Suspended in that purple firmament were not clouds or stars, but fragments of celestial bodies, massive enough to blot out the light.

They hovered in silence, sharp-edged, with the embers of long-cooled star cores still flickering at their broken surfaces, like tombstones left behind by defeated ancient gods and demons, silently recounting once-earth-shaking glories and the eternal, unchanging silence of the present.

On the ground, the contours of mountains and rivers had long since vanished.

In their place were vast, boundless chasms, through which flowed not liquid rivers, but the "Sorrow of Dao Seals"—a confluence of pure, violent, and conflicting chaotic energy.

The torrent of energy was viscous and slow, at times shimmering with iridescent, glass-like hues, and at others turning into a pitch-black void that swallowed all light; each rotation caused ripples and folds to distort the surrounding space.

Any life form below the rank of Marquis, even if merely brushed by its aura, would have its spirit and flesh completely disintegrated in an instant, erasing all traces of existence and turning into the purest nothingness, leaving not even a speck of dust behind.

In this world, there was no longer any such thing as "spiritual energy."

The air was filled with the fragments of Dao Seals scattered by countless powerhouses who had fallen over billions of years, along with an eternal, unceasing aura of slaughter.

These Dao Seal fragments were as sharp as divine weapons; every breath felt like swallowing billions of invisible blades, which would then tear frantically through one's internal organs.

An ordinary creature would be sliced into powder from the inside out within a single breath.

Only those of the Marquis rank could barely withstand this constant erosion by relying on the Dao Seals they had condensed themselves, but even then, they found every step a struggle, their consumption rates a thousand times higher than in the outside world.

In the center of this desperate land, atop a massive fragment that had drifted here after the collapse of some unknown great world, stood a solitary city.

This city was named "Indomitable."

It was the last and only line of defense for the human race on this inner island.

The foundation of the city was that very fragment of a world, its edges still bearing the remnants of long-dead mountain ranges and dried-up riverbeds.

As for the towering city walls, the materials used to forge them would drive any major power in the outside world to madness.

They were primarily composed of the immortal remains of human Marquises who had died in battle here, crushed and smelted with the hardest divine metals in the universe.

The walls were a dark gold, and upon close inspection, one could see the textures of bones faintly visible within the metal.

Every brick shimmered with the undying fighting spirit of the fallen heroes; even after ten thousand years, the sounds of clashing steel and charging horses could still be heard faintly echoing from within.

Yet, this majestic city, a symbol of an indomitable will, was now covered in scars.

Huge claw marks were gouged deep into the walls, as if trying to tear the entire city apart; terrifying fist imprints were branded upon them, the surrounding laws still annihilating one another to this day.

There were even hideous cracks spreading from the battlements to the base, as if the structure might collapse at any moment.

The walls were covered in layer upon layer of dark, dried blood—the blood of the myriad-race Marquises and the blood of human heroes, indistinguishable from one another, solidified into the most shocking medal of honor on this desperate battlefield.

Inside the city, there was deathly silence.

Most of the tall buildings had collapsed in the continuous fires of war; among the ruins, not a single living ordinary soldier could be seen.

On this inner island, all below the rank of Marquis were mere ants, lacking even the qualification to survive.

This was a meat grinder for the highest-tier combatants of a race.

In the center of the city, the only structure still relatively intact was a central temple carved from a single block of obsidian.

Inside the temple, the atmosphere was as stifling as solidified steel.

Dozens of figures stood or sat in silence; each of them had once been a Marquis-level powerhouse capable of presiding over a star sector in the universe, feared by billions of living beings.

But now, they looked like a group of broken soldiers who had just crawled out of a blood pool.

Occupying the head seat was the human race’s supreme commander here, Marquis Qingtian.

He was an elderly man with a gaunt face, his eyes opening and closing as if the sun, moon, and stars were rotating within them; his aura was as deep and immovable as a mountain.

Yet, beneath his wide battle robe, his left sleeve hung empty; his arm had been severed thousands of years ago in a bloody battle by three myriad-race Marquises using forbidden artifacts, and the wound was still entwined with alien Dao Seals, preventing regeneration.

He sat there quietly, like an ancient divine mountain on the verge of collapse—his majesty remained, but he was filled with the sorrow of a hero at the end of his road.

To his left sat a burly man built like an iron tower, Marquis Liewu.

His personality matched his title—fiery and unyielding—and his entire body seemed wrapped in an eternal, inextinguishable fire that caused the surrounding void to warp slightly.

However, his formidable body was charred black on the left side, eroded by the primordial demonic energy of an Abyss Demon Marquis; even with his monstrous fighting fire, he could not fully expel it, only barely suppress it.

That demonic energy was like a maggot in the bone, devouring his life essence every moment.

On the other side sat a female Marquis in palace attire, her expression as cold as ten-thousand-year black ice, Marquis Bingxin.

Her Dao was the ultimate Dao of Freezing, and within her eyes, it seemed as if the first chill from the birth of the universe was frozen.

Yet, if one looked closely, one could find a trace of sorrow deep within that ice that could never be melted.

Her partner, in the last great war, had detonated his own Marquis-level origin Dao Seal to cover her retreat, perishing together with five great enemies.

Inside the temple, including Marquis Qingtian, only thirty-seven human Marquises remained.

They are the final sparks of hope left by humanity in this land of death, the last guardians of the tombs.

Each of them bears grievous wounds, their paths to the Great Dao fractured, their vitality withered like candles flickering in a gale, ready to be extinguished at any moment. Yet, their eyes remain sharp as unsheathed blades, keen enough to pierce the very firmament.

After a long, heavy silence, Marquis Qingtian’s hoarse voice slowly emerged, each word seemingly carved from the last remnants of his strength: "The final batch of resurrection marks... sent from the outer islands, was exhausted... in the last great battle."

His voice was not loud, yet it struck every heart like an invisible, heavy hammer.

Resurrection marks were their only solace in this desperate plight, the bedrock of their courage to trade life for life.

Now, even this final assurance had vanished.

It meant that the next fall would be a true dissolution of body and soul, with no possibility of return.

The atmosphere within the temple grew heavy, suffocatingly dense.

"Bang!"

With a thunderous crash, Marquis Liewu slammed his only remaining hand onto the jade table, causing the entire temple to tremble.

He rose abruptly, demonic energy roiling across his charred half-body, his crimson eyes burning with a raging inferno: "So what if they are gone! Then we fight! My human race has hacked through thorns and brambles since the primordial age; when have we ever been cowards who surrendered without a struggle!"

His voice roared like a thunderclap, echoing through the hall with a fierce, tragic momentum: "Without resurrection marks, killing will be all the more satisfying! A severed head is but a scar the size of a bowl! Even if I self-detonate before I die, I will drag three or five of those mongrels from the myriad races down with me! One is enough to break even, two is a profit!"

His roar ignited the fighting spirit that had been suppressed by despair in everyone’s hearts.

"Well said! Count me in, Marquis Liewu!"

"To die is but to die; what is there to fear!"

Marquis Bingxin remained silent, merely raising a pale hand as a crystalline snowflake coalesced and drifted from her palm.

Her cold, clear voice emerged, carrying a trace of imperceptible trembling and longing: "We have... persisted here for ninety thousand years... the children on the outer islands must have... safely evacuated by now, surely..."

She gazed beyond the temple, as if trying to pierce through this shattered world to see the starry sky of the homeland she could never return to.

These old souls would die here without regret, hoping only that those young sparks might escape to preserve the future of the human race.

Everyone fell silent.

Marquis Qingtian closed his eyes, opening them only after a long moment.

His gaze had returned to the stillness of an ancient well, a calm born of looking past life and death, casting all else aside.

"We do not know," he said slowly.

"The passage to the outside world was sealed by the myriad races long ago; our connection to the outer realms was severed thirty thousand years ago. But,"

His tone shifted, his voice hoarse yet ringing with undeniable, ironclad strength, "we must believe that our persistence, our sacrifice, has meaning!

Every day we hold this ground is another breath of hope we secure for the future of humanity!

We are the bulwark of the human race, the very spine of our people!

As long as we stand here, the blades of the myriad races shall not seize another fragment of this universe!"

He rose slowly, his broken body appearing, in that moment, infinitely majestic.

He looked upon every scarred comrade in the hall, his eyes filled with boundless reverence and resolve.

"Friends, prepare... for a fight to the death."