Chapter 313: Resurrection of the Marquis! Campaigning Against Alien Races! Proudly Obtaining Cosmic Crystals

Chapter 313: Marquis Resurrection! War Against the Alien Races! Seizing the Cosmic Crystals! Qin Feng’s Seclusion, the Primordial Furnace!

Just as the marquises of the myriad races were filled with triumph, a burly stone-race marquis—his body hewn from obsidian and wreathed in a heavy force field—prepared to shatter the final seal of the core treasury with a fist capable of crushing all resistance, when a sudden, earth-shaking anomaly erupted!

"Hum—"

A strange, indescribable vibration resonated without warning across the ruins of the City of Indomitability.

This sound did not travel through the air; it struck directly at the soul, causing the spirits of the three hundred and seventy-odd marquis-level powerhouses present to feel an inexplicable tremor and suppression.

Immediately following, the dim, blood-and-fire-stained sky of the inner island was illuminated by a golden radiance of absolute purity.

One hundred and twenty massive pillars of light, appearing as if condensed directly from the fundamental laws of the universe, ignored the shattered spatial barriers and chaotic turbulence of the inner island. With an undeniable, supreme will, they pierced downward with pinpoint precision.

Their target was not the reveling alien marquises, but the scattered remains and unyielding imprints of the fallen human heroes.

The golden light was blinding and magnificent, its fluctuations of life and spacetime laws so potent that even these marquises, accustomed to cosmic wonders, felt a chill of terror.

"Is that... resurrection?!"

A Spirit-race marquis, who had been toying with a cosmic crystal, was the first to cry out, his voice sharp with horror and confusion.

His body, composed of pure psychic energy, rippled uncontrollably under the golden light, as if it were on the verge of being purified by this supreme, masculine power.

Every alien marquis froze, their actions halted. They looked up at the heavens, their faces shifting from arrogant satisfaction to utter shock and despair.

"This is... the Light of Resurrection?!"

Under the horrified, soul-shattering gaze of the alien marquises, the one hundred and twenty pillars of light descended like spears of salvation cast by gods.

Where the golden light touched, time seemed to flow backward, and space began to reshape itself.

Within one pillar, a spine flickering with undying spiritual light coalesced like a dragon, followed by the skull, the ribcage, and the limbs.

Countless profound life runes danced within the light, weaving flesh, fascia, and meridians around the bones.

A powerful heart began to beat within the empty chest, emitting a dull thud like an ancient war drum.

Marquis Qingtian’s mountain-like physique was fully restored within a few breaths.

His tightly closed eyes snapped open. The initial flicker of confusion lasted less than a thousandth of a second before being replaced by the boundless grief and towering rage of his final moments.

He clenched his fists, feeling a power more surging than before flowing through his limbs—a familiar yet strange sensation of peak strength.

In another pillar, Marquis Liewu took form. His muscles were packed with explosive power, his skin still bearing the remnants of the frantic battle intent from before his death. He cracked his neck, the bones popping sharply, and a savage, bloodthirsty grin spread across his lips: "You bastards, Grandpa is back!"

The voice was not loud, yet it pierced the ears of every alien marquis like a poisoned blade, carving deep into their hearts.

Then came the third, the fourth... the one hundred and twentieth figure.

Marquis Jian appeared, his presence like an unsheathed divine sword, his invisible sword intent tearing the surrounding laws to shreds.

Marquis Bingxin’s graceful form reappeared; in an instant, frost covered the ruins for ten thousand miles, freezing the energy particles in the air into a dead zone of absolute zero.

One by one, the powerful, iron-willed human marquises stood reborn in their perfect, peak states under the golden light!

Time seemed to stand still. The alien marquises were utterly stunned.

"Impossible! This is absolutely impossible!"

A Spirit-race marquis, wreathed in pale flames, roared hysterically, his soul-fire flickering with extreme fear. "How can the humans have resurrection charges left?! Their marks were exhausted long ago under our combined assault! I saw Marquis Qingtian’s final mark shatter with my own eyes!"

"One hundred and twenty... not one missing, all resurrected! And all at the same time!"

Another Shadow-race marquis spoke in a hoarse, trembling voice, filled with disbelief. "To support a collective resurrection of this scale requires one hundred and twenty resurrection marks."

"What is happening? Weren't the humans on the outer island wiped out?"

Doubt spread like a plague among the three hundred and seventy alien marquises.

They had been savoring their victory, dividing the spoils, and dreaming of the glory awaiting them outside, yet in the blink of an eye, the ghosts they had sent to hell had returned in even greater strength!

On the other side, the one hundred and twenty newly resurrected human marquises were equally bewildered.

Marquis Qingtian scanned his surroundings, feeling the surging power within and the massive, inconceivable imprint of resurrection energy in his soul. He was thunderstruck.

He remembered clearly that he had exhausted all his chances, burned his soul, and launched a final, suicidal charge.

What had happened on the outer island?

Hadn't the humans been defeated, slaughtered, and left with no resurrections?

"Three million seven hundred thousand resurrection marks?!"

Marquis Qingtian’s consciousness sank into the rules of the Dead-Fall Island, his eyes widening.

But before he could ponder further, their gaze swept across the scene, and all confusion was instantly swallowed by boundless rage and scorching killing intent.

What did they see?

They saw the "City of Indomitability," which they had guarded with their lives and blood, reduced to ruins.

They saw the alien scum standing upon their home, wantonly breaking the final seals they had laid down with their lives.

They saw the cosmic crystals—meant to nurture the next generation of humans—being defiled and divided by the filthy hands of the aliens!

They saw the lingering contempt and triumphant revelry on the faces of the invaders!

This was a supreme humiliation!

This was the most vicious desecration of all the fallen heroes!

No words were needed. No communication was required.

In that moment, only one thought remained in the eyes of the one hundred and twenty human marquises.

"KILL!!!"

Marquis Qingtian did not utter a single wasted word.

He let out a roar that could shatter the stars. Behind him, his "Qingtian Dao Imprint," condensing the essence of his life’s martial path and unyielding will, erupted into view!

It was not a physical object, but the phantom of a mountain so immense it seemed to be the spine of the universe, the pillar of heaven, engraved with ancient, heavy law-runes that radiated a terrifying pressure capable of crushing all things.

"Rumble—"

The moment the "Qingtian Dao Imprint" appeared, the space of the inner island groaned under the unbearable weight.

Marquis Qingtian stepped forward, appearing instantly above the densest cluster of alien marquises. The towering mountain phantom descended with world-destroying power, smashing down upon the shocked and panicked crowd!

The great war erupted in the most unexpected moment, in the most brutal and direct manner!

This was a primal, desperate collision of Dao and flesh, with no tricks and no retreat.

In the previous war that had lasted tens of thousands of years, all their treasures—weapons and armor—had long since been shattered into cosmic dust.

Now, they relied only on their tempered bodies and the "Dao Imprints" that carried their entire essence!

Though the humans were outnumbered one hundred and twenty to three hundred and seventy, they felt no fear, no hesitation—only the explosive release of suppressed rage and the thirst for vengeance.

With a determination to die, they charged forward, embracing life through death.

Each human marquis, the moment they were resurrected, unleashed their "Dao Imprint" to its absolute limit without reservation.

"Ruthless Sword Path, sever all evil!"

The Sword Marquis transformed into a streak of light, his very essence merging with his "Ruthless Sword Seal."

That seal expanded into a brilliant river of sword energy, spanning tens of thousands of miles across the firmament, where every droplet of "water" was a terrifying blade capable of rending a high-level Domain Lord asunder.

The roaring river of light surged forward, a solitary force charging headlong into the defensive line formed by dozens of Marquis-level warriors from the myriad races.

"Eternal Frost, Soul Severing to the Nine Netherworlds!"

The Ice Heart Marquis’s "Ice Soul Dao Seal" manifested as a colossal, ice-blue snowflake; as it rotated slowly, an absolute chill radiated outward, bypassing the physical realm to freeze souls and laws alike.

Dozens of enemy Marquises felt their spirits stiffen, their thoughts sluggish, the radiance of their own Dao Seals dimming for a heartbeat.

The Fierce Martial Marquis, driven to a state of absolute frenzy, saw his "Undying War Seal" take the form of an ancient god of war wielding a giant axe, crashing with primal savagery into the chest of a Rock-race Marquis, detonating his own seal in a suicidal, earth-shattering blast.

"Boom—"

In the violent explosion, both the Fierce Martial Marquis and the Rock-race warrior dissolved into blood mist, yet a second later, the Fierce Martial Marquis reappeared at a nearby resurrection point, his aura even more violent as he charged toward his next target.

Faced with this sudden, reckless, and suicidal counterattack, the myriad-race Marquises, after an initial moment of panic and chaos, quickly organized an effective defense.

After all, they were battle-hardened veterans, and they held the absolute advantage in numbers.

"Steady! Do not panic! There are only a hundred of them!"

"Form ranks! Activate your Dao Seals and wipe them out in this wave!"

"Their resurrection counts must be limited! Wear them down!"

Over three hundred and seventy distinct Dao Seals rose from behind the enemy lines, erupting in brilliance as they collided violently with the human seals.

The sky was torn asunder in that instant.

The earth collapsed entirely.

The ruins of the Unyielding City, along with millions of miles of surrounding territory, were reduced to a sea of dust under the ultimate impact of nearly five hundred Dao Seals.

There was the Crystal race’s "Myriad Prism Dao Seal," capable of refracting and amplifying attacks like a diamond lens;

The Insect race’s "Brood Mother Dao Seal," hideous and reeking of decay and plague;

And the Shadow race’s "Dark Shadow Dao Seal," intangible and formless, capable of slipping through the seams of dimensions to launch lethal ambushes...

"Boom!!"

The Heaven-Propping Marquis’s "Heaven-Propping Dao Seal" clashed head-on with a dozen enemy seals, the resulting shockwave pulverizing the bodies of dozens of nearby Marquises who failed to evade in time.

The Sword Marquis’s river of energy was ground away by dozens of opposing forces, yet in the final moment of its dissipation, he precisely pierced the souls of three enemy Marquises.

This was a meat grinder in the truest sense.

With every breath, the physical forms of powerful Marquises were shattered into clouds of blood.

With every blink, brilliant Dao Seals shattered in collision, only to be reforged by the will of their masters.

On the battlefield, friend and foe were indistinguishable; everywhere there were violent torrents of spiritual energy and jagged rifts in space.

Golden lights of resurrection sprouted like bamboo shoots after rain across every corner of the field; one figure would vanish, only for another to reform nearby, charging back into the vortex of death with unyielding, murderous intent.

From the moment it erupted, the battle entered its most cruel, bloody, and white-hot phase.

Time lost all meaning in this grueling war of attrition.

One day...

Ten days...

One month...

The battle raged for an entire year.

It was a long and brutal peak-level war of attrition, destined to be recorded in the annals of the myriad-race battlefield.

Throughout that year, the fighting upon the ruins of the Unyielding City never ceased for a single moment.

For the human Marquises, this was the ultimate test of faith and will.

One hundred and twenty of them faced an enemy more than three times their number.

Almost every moment, someone was surrounded by enemies and torn to shreds by the torrent of Dao Seals.

Death had become the norm.

The Fierce Martial Marquis died over fifty times that year.

Each time he returned, he grew more frenzied, his combat style increasingly desperate.

He abandoned all defense, pouring every ounce of power into offense, trading his own life for the maximum possible damage to the enemy.

The Sword Marquis’s "Ruthless Sword Seal" shattered over a hundred times, inflicting unimaginable trauma upon his soul.

Yet each time he reformed the seal, his sword intent grew purer and sharper, as if he meant to sever every shackle in the world.

The Heaven-Propping Marquis, the spiritual pillar of humanity, always charged at the forefront.

His "Heaven-Propping Dao Seal" bore the brunt of the attacks, and his body was shattered over thirty times.

But every time he resurrected, he stood like an immovable monument of defiance in the heart of the fray.

Driven by an inextinguishable will, they charged, were shattered, and resurrected, only to plunge back into the battlefield with greater speed and resolve.

They seemed to know neither fatigue nor pain, nor the meaning of death, becoming nothing more than machines of war.

For the myriad-race Marquises, however, this year of combat was a long torment, a descent from heaven into hell.

In the first month, they still held the absolute advantage.

Relying on numerical superiority, they could easily scatter the human formation and pick them off.

Back then, they clung to the thought that "the humans have limited resurrections," calculating that after another hundred kills, the humans would surely collapse.

By the third month, they began to feel shock and unease.

They discovered that no matter how many times they killed the human Marquises, the opponents returned at full strength, their fighting spirit undiminished.

On their own side, though their death toll was far lower, their total pool of resurrection marks was steadily dwindling at a visible rate.

By the sixth month, shock had curdled into fear.

The human resurrection count seemed infinite!

They were like locusts that could never be wiped out; every attack seemed to yield results, yet in the blink of an eye, everything returned to the status quo.

A sense of despair—the realization that no matter how hard they fought, victory was nowhere in sight—began to spread among them.

"What is happening? How many resurrection chances do they have?!"

"We’ve killed them at least five hundred times! Why can they still return?!"

"Our own resurrection counts... we have less than half remaining!"

Panic, like a lethal poison, began to corrode their will to fight.

Some of the less resolute Marquises, facing the humans' death-defying charges, began to instinctively retreat and dodge, for they could no longer afford to die.

By the tenth month, fear turned to collapse.

When the first myriad-race Marquis, having exhausted all his resurrection marks, was frozen by the Ice Heart Marquis’s "Ice Soul Dao Seal" and perished with a final, unwilling wail, the dominoes began to fall.

"Grom is dead! He's truly dead!"

"Our resurrections are running out!"

Morale shattered completely in that single moment.

Yet, on this battlefield shrouded in a tempest of fundamental laws, where else could they flee?

The human marquises keenly seized this opportunity, launching their final pursuit of the fleeing, chaotic myriad-race marquises with an even more frenzied ferocity.

As one side waxed and the other waned, the tide of battle turned into a complete one-sided rout.

One year later.

"No—! Humans! I curse you—!"

With the last marquis of the Lithic Race, his soul and Dao-seal were simultaneously blasted to pieces beneath the fist of Marquis Qingtian, a strike that condensed endless fury and the tragic aspirations of the human race.

Thus, after the myriad races exhausted their final, precious chance at resurrection, the clamor, roars, and explosions that had echoed for an entire year finally, slowly, subsided.

The battlefield at last returned to a deathly tranquility. The shattered firmament was healing slowly, and upon the sunken earth, yawning chasms of laws and crystallized ruins of energy lay everywhere.

One hundred and twenty human marquises stood silently upon this battlefield they had won with their own hands.

Upon their bodies, nearly every single one bore wounds, their souls appearing somewhat weakened from successive deaths and rebirths, yet their eyes shone as bright as the most radiant stars in the cosmos.

Victory was achieved.

With a mere one hundred and twenty marquises, they had completely annihilated over three hundred and seventy myriad-race powerhouses of the same rank.

The price of this victory was that, during this year of bloody warfare, they had consumed a total of over one thousand seven hundred resurrections.

But...

This was not even a fraction of the remaining resurrection imprints.

...

The inner island, the ruins of the City of Fortitude.

The entire battlefield, once clamorous and broken, fell into a deathly, quiet serenity.

Blood drenched every inch of the soil, the shattered light of Dao-seals flickered unpredictably in the void, and the air was thick with a scent of blood and malevolent aura so dense it could not be dispersed.

The joy of victory rushed into their hearts like a tide, only to be replaced a few breaths later by a grander, deeper bewilderment and confusion.

Marquis Qingtian’s burly frame stood in the center of the ruins, his body covered in hideous wounds, some even deep enough to expose bone; but to powerhouse marquises, as long as the soul remained unextinguished, these were merely negligible superficial injuries.

He panted heavily, his chest heaving violently, his eyes filled with gravity and deep contemplation.

His gaze was locked firmly onto the invisible interface in his mind, presented by the source rules of the Dead Meteor Island.

Upon that interface, the reserve of resurrection imprints representing the human faction displayed a number that made his very heart twitch.

"The outer island... just what on earth happened out there?"

His voice was hoarse, carrying a tremor he himself had not noticed as he muttered to himself.

In this battle, the human side had consumed a total of over one thousand seven hundred resurrections—an undeniably tragic number, meaning that on average, every marquis had fallen a dozen times.

However, compared to that massive, heart-stopping total reserve, it truly amounted to nothing.

They had fought in the inner island for hundreds of thousands of years, and the commanders of the outer island had changed countless times, yet there had never been a time when the resurrection imprints exceeded ten thousand.

Now, at over three point seven million, they had never fought such an affluent battle.

"I do not know."

The figure of Marquis Jian appeared silently beside Marquis Qingtian.

His usually straight, sword-like eyebrows were tightly knit together now, forming a deep furrow; he shook his head, his cool, clear eyes similarly filled with incomprehension. "The rules of the inner island are strict, forming a world of its own, almost completely cutting off information transmission with the outer island.

The last time we received accurate news was when the Lord of the Ultimate used a priceless World-Omniscience Talisman, barely managing to pass in a single sentence."

The contents of that sentence were fresh in the memory of every human marquis present.

"The myriad races have deployed a million troops, overseen by six divine-forbidden prodigies; the outer island garrison has only ten thousand left.

This is an open conspiracy, a force that cannot be resisted.

Perform a strategic contraction, hold the inner island firmly, preserve our active strength, and await the turning point thirty thousand years from now."

It was precisely this message that had made them abandon all illusions of fighting in coordination with the outer island, preparing themselves psychologically to fight to the bitter end in the inner island until every member had fallen.

Yet the result before them was diametrically opposed to the anticipated "tragic sacrifice."

"Damn it!"

A coarse curse broke the contemplation as Marquis Liewu strode over with large steps, his crimson hair flying wildly, his whole body emanating a terrifying aura, though his face bore an expression of extreme absurdity and disbelief.

He pointed a trembling finger at the void, as if a digital panel truly existed there, his voice shaking: "There are still... over three million six hundred and ninety-eight thousand times left! Good heavens!

This... has this fucking wiped out the entire Myriad-Race Alliance's army on the outer island root and branch?

Just how many Sector Lords had to be killed to gather such a number?!"

Over three million six hundred and ninety-eight thousand!

This number, like an invisible divine mountain, weighed heavily upon everyone’s heart, making them feel suffocated.

"What is the situation?!"

"Could the Holy Academy headquarters have altered the original strategic plan?

Sparing no expense, they deployed an expeditionary force of unprecedented scale to forcefully invade the Dead Meteor Island?"

One powerhouse marquis put forward the most direct conjecture.

"Impossible!"

Another marquis, "Marquis Shensuan," who was proficient in strategic deduction, immediately spoke up in refutation, countless hexagrams seemingly swirling within his eyes as his tone brooked no argument. "This is absolutely impossible!

This move makes no strategic sense whatsoever!

Our human territory is vast; besides this Dead Meteor Island, along the long front line confronting the myriad races, there are sixteen other top-tier secret realm battlefields of the same level that require guarding.

Every battlefield draws an immense amount of military strength; if we were to gamble our heavy troops solely on this place, the other fronts would inevitably suffer a fatal vacuum, an opportunity the Myriad-Race Alliance would never miss.

This is a gamble that would shake the foundations of the state; the Holy Academy would never act so recklessly!"

He paused, pointing out a crucial logical flaw that no one could ignore: "Furthermore, consider another question.

If it truly were our human army outside engaging a million-strong army of the myriad races in an earth-shattering war of attrition, the casualty ratio could absolutely never be so lopsided!

Even if we ultimately won a tragic victory and wiped out the enemy entirely, our own losses would bound to be an astronomical figure.

Reflected on the resurrection imprints, our reserve number might be greater than the opponent's, but it could never be greater to such an overwhelming degree!

Yet what we see now is three point seven million to zero!

This is not a war at all; this is... this is a one-sided slaughter!"

"Slaughter?"

The word sent a tremor through the hearts of all the marquises.

Indeed, only a one-sided, unresisting slaughter could yield such an unfathomable result.

Yet a new question arose.

"Who could possibly slaughter them?"

Marquis Lie Wu scratched his head, his face a mask of agitation. "That was a million-strong elite force, including many high-level Domain Lords, and led by the six peak God-Forbidden prodigies—Shi Lan, Wu Hen, and Ba Xia—whose names shake the battlefields of all races!

To annihilate them all in an instant... how could such a thing be possible?

Even among those at the peak of the God-Forbidden realm, a one-on-one duel might decide a victor, but to face six at once, while besieged by a million-strong army? It is pure fantasy!"

"Perhaps... some King-level, or even Emperor-level grandmaster, ignored the cosmic pact and struck by force?"

Someone whispered a conjecture.

"Even more impossible!"

Marquis Shen Suan shook his head again, his gaze sharp. "The rules of the Dead Meteor Island are witnessed by the supreme will of the universe; their solidity far exceeds your imagination.

Any power surpassing the Domain Lord level that descends is instantly erased by the rules. This is an iron law!

History is not without examples of King-level powerhouses who tried to force their way in, and without exception, they were all ground into dust.

Even if we concede that a grandmaster could bypass the rules, the price would be unimaginable, and it would trigger a violent backlash from the highest echelons of the All-Race Alliance, sparking a total war that would engulf the entire universe.

To do this for a single secret realm battlefield? The cost far outweighs the gain."

One guess after another was proposed, only to be ruthlessly dismantled.

These Marquis-level powerhouses, beings standing at the very pinnacle of the billions of human warriors, were now like common mortals, racking their brains in utter bewilderment.

Their knowledge, their experience, and their understanding of war were shattered by that cold, impossibly large number.

They could not imagine, nor did they dare to think, that the one who had overturned the entire chessboard was not some army, nor some heaven-defying grandmaster, but merely a single person.

A "junior" who, in their eyes, still required protection and was someone to be nurtured with high hopes.

In the end, Marquis Qingtian let out a long sigh, his voice tinged with weariness, yet laced with resolve.

"If we cannot fathom it, let us stop thinking about it for now."

He spoke in a deep voice, cutting through the discussion. "Whatever earth-shattering change occurred on the outer island, the result is good. We... have won."

He scanned the surroundings, looking at faces marked by the shock of survival and deep confusion, and continued: "Our current task is to immediately clear the battlefield and collect every cosmic crystal here; there must be no omissions.

As for the answer to the mystery, the truth of it all... when the exit of the Dead Meteor Island opens in thirty thousand years and we walk out alive, it will naturally be revealed."

The Marquises nodded, suppressing the turbulent waves in their hearts.

Indeed, no matter how bizarre the process, the victory was real and undeniable.

They began to act, tidying the aftermath and counting the spoils of war.

Yet, deep within everyone's heart, a massive mystery regarding the "unknown existence" on the outer island had been deeply buried.

...

With the dust settled on the tragic and glorious battle of resurrection on the inner island, and the confirmation that the human Marquises had achieved a final, total victory, Qin Feng, stationed on the outer island, finally set his mind at ease.

He chose not to make any form of contact with the heroes of the inner island, nor was he in a hurry to share in this victory.

For him, the revenge was complete.

What followed was the digestion of the spoils, turning the flesh and souls of these million enemies into the fuel for his own path to the "Limit."

On the outer island, within a subterranean cavern he had temporarily carved out.

There were no luxurious decorations here, only endless silence and vast resources.

A mountain of flesh and blood, piled high from the corpses of nearly a million elites of all races, occupied the majority of the cavern space, scattered with countless broken, dim fragments of secret treasures and innumerable soul crystals flickering with eerie light.

This was a treasure trove of resources that would make any Immortal Holy Land or super-faction turn green with envy and madness.

And now, they belonged to Qin Feng alone.

Qin Feng sat cross-legged before this "treasure trove," his eyes half-closed, his consciousness sinking into his body as he began a new round of deep seclusion that would last thirty thousand years.

The first ten thousand years.

"Boom—"

As Qin Feng’s will stirred, the [Primordial Furnace Array] within him, the core of all his power, awoke like a dormant cosmic singularity, beginning to churn with terrifying efficiency.

An invisible yet overwhelmingly tyrannical devouring force radiated from every pore of his body, instantly shrouding the entire cavern.

The towering mountain of flesh and blood began to tremble violently.

The corpses of once-arrogant powerhouses of all races—whether the Stone Race, whose bodies were harder than divine iron, or the Saint Spirit Race, composed of pure energy—withered, weathered, and dissolved at a speed visible to the naked eye under the influence of this devouring force.

The infinite essence of flesh and blood, the vast life origin, and even the fragments of bloodline talents etched deep into their genes—the pride of their respective races—were forcibly stripped, refined, and transformed into streams of pure, multi-colored energy.

These energy torrents, like a hundred rivers returning to the sea, surged madly into Qin Feng's body.

Under the transformation of the [Primordial Furnace Array], these complex energies were purged of their impurities, ultimately becoming the most fundamental and pure life particles, which were then continuously injected into the [Limit Array] covering his entire body through the billions of trillions of cells that had become miniature black holes.

Hum!

Hum!

Hum!

Nourished by this unprecedentedly vast energy, Qin Feng’s [Limit Body] began a cataclysmic transformation.

The layer of white radiance on his skin, representing the "Limit," became increasingly solid, dense, and brilliant.

It was not mere white, but a "primordial color" that seemed to contain all the colors and possibilities of the universe, woven from the purest "Dao" and "Principles."

Each of his cells was like a ravenous primordial beast, greedily devouring the incoming energy, constantly dividing, reorganizing, and strengthening; with every breath, his life level ascended a tiny step higher.

His physical strength climbed at a terrifying speed that would drive any cultivator to despair, every day, every hour, every second.

His bones, under the infusion of energy, grew in density, gradually taking on an immortal, jade-like luster, their solidity already far surpassing that of so-called peak Domain Lord secret treasures.

His meridians were widened like star rivers, and what surged through them was no longer mere blood, but energy magma laced with the radiance of the Dao.

His flesh was tempered a thousand times over; within every muscle fiber, it seemed as if a small world existed, containing explosive power.

Thus, day after day, year after year.

When ten thousand years had quietly passed, the massive mountain of flesh and blood in the cavern had completely vanished, leaving only some dregs that could not be refined.

And Qin Feng, sitting in the center, possessed a physical body several times stronger than when he had first begun!

He slowly opened his eyes, and as his gaze shifted, two beams of materialized white light pierced the void, leaving two bottomless holes in the cavern walls.

He merely clenched his fist casually, and the surrounding space emitted a series of "crackling" groans, as if it would be shattered by him at any moment.

Every movement held the power to tear the void asunder.

It was also at this ten-thousand-year mark that the long-sealed entrance to the Dead Meteor Island opened once more.

The cosmic energy and rules of the outside world poured in, bringing a hint of change.

With a mere flicker of his divine sense, Qin Feng sensed that, this time, the human race still had no reinforcements entering, clearly strictly executing the strategic withdrawal orders of the Holy Academy.

As for the other races, perhaps out of unwillingness or a desire to investigate the situation on the inner island, over a hundred new Marquis-level powerhouses entered the inner island area.

The result, naturally, went without saying.

They were met by one hundred and twenty human Marquises, who were well-rested and still burning with lingering rage.

A brief and tragic skirmish broke out on the inner island; lasting less than half a day, the hundred-plus Marquis-level powerhouses of the various races were all slaughtered, unable to stir up even the slightest ripple.

The human race, having expended but a few resurrection marks, once again secured an overwhelming victory.

To this, Qin Feng merely offered a faint, indifferent smile before closing his eyes once more.

All of this had already been within his calculations.

...

The second ten-thousand-year cycle.

Having resolved the issue of physical sustenance, Qin Feng turned his attention to another dimension—the soul.

Though his "pure black quality" soul had reached a legendary zenith in terms of essence, there remained vast room for expansion in its "volume."

With a mere thought, tens of thousands of high-grade soul crystals, harvested from the storage rings of the six great forbidden-heaven prodigies and various high-level domain lords, hovered before him.

These crystals contained the pure soul essence and martial insights left behind by those fallen powerhouses.

For an ordinary cultivator, absorbing such things would be akin to drinking poison to quench thirst; the chaotic fragments of will within would likely contaminate the soul, leading to a deviation in cultivation.

But for Qin Feng, who had mastered the complete "Intelligent Devouring Secret Art," these were supreme delicacies.

He did not consume them directly.

Instead, he formed seals with his hands, utilizing the methods of the "Intelligent Devouring Secret Art" to use these high-quality soul fragments as "cores" and his own boundless mental power as the "framework." Within a few short months, he forged over ten thousand temporary "intelligent souls," each possessing computational power rivaling that of a primary black-hole-level powerhouse!

These intelligent souls possessed self-awareness and could continuously deduce and enhance their own soul strength.

If left to evolve, they would form a terrifying artificial intelligence—the very origin of the Mechanical Race—yet these intelligences would be strictly suppressed by the current Mechanical Race.

The reason lay in the immutable laws established by a deity of the Mechanical Race.

(End of chapter)