Chapter 314: Flesh and Blood Grinding Wheel! Meat Grinder! Emperor Rank Makes a Move! Divine Path

Chapter 314: A Meat Grinder of Flesh and Blood! A Mincing Machine! The Sovereign Strikes! The Divine Path Shakes the World!

Ten thousand years later, these intelligent souls had reached the level of Domain Lords.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Qin Feng devoured every one of these newly "born" intelligent souls—entities that would have driven any technological civilization to madness.

His "Pure Black Quality" soul revealed its tyrannical, peerless nature in that moment.

It was like an eternally silent, dark universe, and those ten thousand intelligent souls were merely stars cast into its depths.

The stars plunged into the darkness, failing to stir even a ripple before being utterly assimilated and absorbed.

With every act of consumption, the origin of Qin Feng’s soul grew visibly stronger.

For ten thousand years, he repeated this cycle of creation and consumption.

When the second ten-thousand-year period ended and he had exhausted all his soul crystals, his soul strength, already terrifying to begin with, had been forced upward by another 10 percent.

Do not underestimate this mere 10 percent.

For an existence already standing at the pinnacle of a field, even a 1 percent increase signifies a qualitative leap.

A 10 percent growth is a figure of terrifying magnitude, enough to plunge any peer into despair.

It meant his thoughts moved faster, his mental control became more nuanced and precise, and the resilience of his soul reached an inconceivable state.

It was at this moment that the entrance to the Island of Dead Meteors opened for the second time.

During the ten years the entrance remained open, not a single powerhouse from the myriad races dared to step foot onto the island, which had long since become a forbidden zone.

The Island of Dead Meteors had become the exclusive property of the human race.

...

With both his physical body and soul vastly enhanced, Qin Feng turned his gaze toward the mountains of shattered secret treasures and divine metallic materials.

These were the final pieces of the puzzle he had prepared for the ultimate perfection of his [Limit Array].

"The path of the limit: the self is the universe, and the flesh is the divine weapon."

Qin Feng whispered to himself, the brilliance of creation flickering in his eyes.

He chose not to forge these top-tier materials into external armor or weaponry.

In his view, all external objects eventually have their limits.

Only the self is infinite!

He would pour all these resources into strengthening the [Limit Array] within his body, transforming his own flesh into an eternal "living Dao vessel" that surpassed all secret treasures!

The [Primal Furnace] was activated once more. This time, into it went the once-indestructible divine metals and the glowing fragments of secret treasures.

Under the furnace's terrifying power, these substances were broken down into streams of primordial metallic particles.

A portion was absorbed directly by Qin Feng to reinforce his bones, organs, and meridians, evolving his body toward the state of "Immortal Divine Metal."

The more refined streams of particles were stored away, reserved for forging.

The true forging began.

Qin Feng sat cross-legged; within the cave, there was no furnace fire, no hammer.

He used the Dao essence of the "Limit Path" he had pioneered as his fire, his vast, ocean-like, and exquisitely precise soul power as his hammer, and his own body as the anvil!

Under the control of his will, clusters of metallic particle streams, shimmering with various colors, were continuously combined, compressed, tempered, and shaped, then imbued with runes representing his insights into the martial way.

It was a long and tedious process, requiring unparalleled control and persistent endurance.

But Qin Feng found joy in the work.

One by one, brand-new secret treasures were forged "within" his body.

They were not meant for external combat but existed as the core nodes of the [Limit Array].

The first was a primitive and heavy [Tripod], which he drove into his Dantian sea to suppress and purify his spiritual energy, ensuring his power was inexhaustible and heavy as a prison.

The second was a deep, silent [Bell], embedded in his brow’s sea of consciousness to vibrate and devour the souls of enemies, while also guarding his own soul against all laws.

The third was a [Furnace] burning with white Dao flames, echoing the [Primal Furnace], responsible for incinerating and refining all incoming spiritual attacks to be converted for his own use.

The fourth was a [Sword], condensed to the extreme and only an inch long, hidden at his fingertip, representing ultimate sharpness and penetration—the final vessel for his [Inch Radiance] technique.

The fifth was a pair of [Wings], thin as cicada wings yet seemingly composed of countless spatial runes, fused into his shoulder blades and combined with the origin of his [Black Sky Wings] to send his speed soaring...

Tripod, bell, furnace, sword, wings, pagoda, seal, wheel, bead...

For a full ten thousand years, Qin Feng remained undistracted, using supreme perseverance and extraordinary skill to meticulously forge thirty "array-node treasures," each of different form but all reaching the power of peak Domain Lord secret treasures.

On the final day of the third ten-thousand-year period,

As Qin Feng drove the last array-node treasure, the [Origin Return Bead], into the core of his heart, causing it to resonate with the [Primal Singularity]—

"Hum————"

A grand roar, as if from the dawn of the universe and the origin of all things, erupted violently from within his body!

The thirty peak Domain Lord secret treasures shone brilliantly at their respective nodes, connecting in a flawless manner to form radiant circuits of spiritual energy.

At this moment, the [Limit Array] covering his trillions of cells rose to an entirely new level!

...

"Hoo..."

A long, distant breath was slowly exhaled from Qin Feng’s lips.

This was no mere mortal respiration; it was more like an ancient star, silent for thirty thousand years, finally completing its last cycle of spiritual energy tides.

As the breath left him, the space within the cave, which had become thick as mercury due to Qin Feng’s presence, instantly cleared.

The airflow was no longer a violent vortex but a gentle breeze, brushing softly against the stone walls.

A beam of light, solid as substance, shot forth from his slowly opening eyes.

This white light was not blinding, nor did it carry earth-shattering momentum; it was pure and condensed, like the first ray of "limit" light at the dawn of the universe.

The beam swept across a distance of hundreds of meters in silence, precisely striking the stone wall at the deepest part of the cave.

That wall had been fashioned from "Meta-Magnetic Divine Martial Rock," which Qin Feng had specifically extracted from the core of the Island of Dead Meteors before his seclusion; its hardness was sufficient to withstand the full-force strike of a typical Marquis-level powerhouse without a scratch.

Yet, before these two seemingly gentle beams of light, the indestructible "Meta-Magnetic Divine Martial Rock" was pierced through as easily as soft tofu.

There was no explosion, no roar, not even a wisp of dust.

Only two pitch-black, bottomless holes, each the thickness of a finger, remained on the wall; the edges of the holes were smooth as mirrors, the material having been simply erased.

This was the manifestation of power compressed and controlled to the absolute limit.

Thirty thousand years of bitter cultivation had been not just an accumulation of power, but the mastery of every single unit of his spiritual energy.

Qin Feng rose to his full height, and as his muscles and bones moved, a low rumble like the beating of divine drums echoed within him.

It was not the sound of bones grinding, but the sound of the spiritual energy tides triggered by the resonance of the thirty peak Domain Lord secret treasures—the core nodes of his now-perfected [Limit Array].

Every drop of his blood was heavy as a star, surging through his meridians like roaring galaxies;

Every beat of his heart was steady and powerful, like a pulsar at the center of the universe, pumping spiritual energy laden with immense vitality to every corner of his body.

Trillions of cells, in this moment, were like ignited micro-universes, autonomously breathing and exhaling the spiritual energy of the void, together constructing this unprecedented [Limit Body].

Qin Feng could clearly perceive the power within his body, surging and roaring with an unprecedented sense of harmony and unity.

This strength was more than double what he had possessed thirty thousand years ago, when he first emerged from seclusion having forged his Ultimate Body.

"Thirty thousand years of bitter cultivation, refining the spoils of a million souls—at last, the foundation of the Ultimate Body is truly solidified."

Qin Feng murmured to himself, yet his face held no trace of joy, only a flicker of profound contemplation.

Had any of the great masters within the Holy Academy heard these words, they would have been struck dumb with disbelief.

Thirty thousand years of time, while not overly long for the titans of the universe, was vast indeed.

But the spoils of a million Domain Lords and black hole entities were no small sum; for Qin Feng to use such a wealth of resources merely to "solidify his foundation" was staggering.

This served only to prove how formidable the foundation of the "Path of Extremity" he had pioneered truly was, and how boundless its potential.

His thoughts remained immersed in the assessment of his own strength.

"My overall combat power is now more than twice what it was when I slew Shi Lan and the others three millennia ago."

This figure was no mere conjecture, but a conclusion reached through precise calculation of the operational efficiency of the Ultimate Array and the Primal Furnace Array within him, alongside his physical limit for channeling spiritual energy.

Unbidden, the imagery of that brief yet earth-shattering battle from thirty thousand years ago surfaced in his mind.

Shi Lan’s "Stone Body," touted as invincible among his peers; Baxia’s absolute defense, his pride and joy; Wuchen’s void-assassination, fast to the point of extremity...

The death trap laid by the six great forbidden-level prodigies, which had once required him three breaths of time to dismantle one by one, now seemed trivial.

"If it were now..."

A flicker of indifference crossed Qin Feng’s eyes. "I would likely not even need a single breath to face those six again."

He would not even need to employ a killing move like "Inch-Light."

Qin Feng’s physical form now possessed the power to influence the very space around him.

Everything would be twisted and crushed by his unreasonable physical force, and subsequently altered.

Shi Lan’s stone blade would crumble into dust within his force field before it could even be swung;

Wuchen’s figure, the moment it merged with the void, would be violently squeezed out of space by the sheer force of his presence;

The sacred light of Judgment and the death curse of Si Qi would be utterly annihilated by the white halo of his Ultimate Body before they could even touch his skin.

The so-called joint death trap, in the face of his current strength, was nothing more than a gathering of paper tigers he could crush with a single thought.

Yet, this absolute power brought no satisfaction, only a deeper sense of vigilance.

"However..."

Qin Feng shifted his focus, beginning to calmly examine his own shortcomings.

His gaze never lingered on past victories, but remained fixed forever on the more powerful, unknown enemies that lay ahead.

"My physical body and mental strength far exceed those of an ordinary junior Marquis.

But in terms of 'technique,' I have begun to lag severely behind."

The first thing that came to mind was the Nine Spirits Origin Map, once one of his core secret arts.

"The Nine Spirits Origin Map was a heaven-defying skill when I was at the black hole stage, granting me a ninefold increase in combat power. But now..."

Qin Feng shook his head.

"It is merely a black hole-level secret art.

I have already stepped into the Domain Lord stage, and my body is an Ultimate Body composed of the Ultimate Form, the Ultimate Array, and the Primal Furnace.

The boost the Nine Spirits Origin Map provides to my overall strength is now negligible, bordering on non-existent."

It was like a single drop of water falling into a cup, where it would cause the water level to rise visibly;

But if that same drop were to fall into the vast ocean, it would not stir the slightest ripple.

His foundation was now that vast ocean.

The Nine Spirits Origin Map, the secret art that had accompanied him through countless life-and-death battles, had fulfilled its historical mission; it was time to discard it.

Next was his strongest offensive means—"Inch-Light."

"The power of Inch-Light is beyond doubt; it concentrates all my strength, speed, and will into the tip of a spear, erupting in an instant with unstoppable force.

Destroying a hundred thousand with a single strike is the best proof of its potency."

"But its flaws are equally obvious. It is, after all, only a black hole-level secret art. Even though I have mastered it and integrated a vast amount of array knowledge into it, its grade is simply too low."

"I need a Domain Lord-level secret killing move, one that can break all laws with pure force. Whether I create it myself or learn from others, it must be done."

"That, however, is of little consequence; it will not affect my Dao. My Dao is primarily concerned with 'refining' and 'nurturing'—that is, the elevation of the origin."

Qin Feng’s thoughts became crystal clear as he began to simulate higher-level battles in his mind.

"I need more versatile offensive means, powerful defensive techniques, faster movement arts, and even simple, brutal methods of sealing and enslavement that break laws through sheer force."

"Ultimately, my 'Path of Extremity' secret arts focus on how to 'refine' and 'nurture.'

But in the most crucial aspect of 'slaughter,' I lack a true core offensive art that perfectly aligns with this Ultimate Body of mine."

A true great art of slaughter should be all-encompassing.

It should not merely be a single move or technique, but a complete combat system.

Advancing to attack, retreating to defend, moving to pursue, and remaining still to ambush.

It should be able to unleash every ounce of power within Qin Feng’s Ultimate Body to its fullest extent.

"To become a Marquis, it is not enough to simply accumulate power. The more critical step is to constantly contemplate and elevate one's core secret arts until they can condense into a unique 'Dao Seal' within the will of the universe."

Qin Feng recalled the Divine Mountain Dao Seal of Marquis Qingtian that suppressed the ages, and the Ruthless Sword Seal of Marquis Jian that severed all things.

That was the true essence of a Marquis-level powerhouse.

"Although my strength has surged, enough to contend head-on with those who have just entered the Marquis rank,

I am still a long way from condensing my own 'Ultimate Dao Seal' in terms of the 'Dao'."

Qin Feng muttered to himself, the light in his eyes growing ever more profound.

Thirty thousand years of seclusion had allowed him to see the path ahead clearly.

And at the very moment Qin Feng completed his self-examination and clarified the direction of his future cultivation—

"Hum—"

The entire Island of Dead Meteors, from its deepest core to the highest heavens, began to tremble violently.

This vibration did not stem from a spiritual energy impact, but from a fundamental rhythm originating at the level of spatial laws.

It was as if an invisible hand were plucking the strings of space-time within this isolated secret realm.

Qin Feng took a step, his figure instantly appearing outside his cave dwelling.

He looked up to see, against the dark red sky of the Island of Dead Meteors, a massive spatial vortex slowly taking shape.

The center of the vortex was a profound darkness, its edges swirling with magnificent yet dangerous space-time turbulence, emitting a powerful gravitational pull—the aura of the outer universe.

Simultaneously, on the other side of the vortex, a smaller entrance appeared.

The thirty-thousand-year term had finally arrived.

The gates of the Isle of Dead Stars, both entrance and exit, have opened in unison!

Qin Feng stepped out from his dwelling, and before his place of seclusion, upon a vast plain, Cang Lang and the others stood assembled, awaiting his command.

More than ten thousand human soldiers, arranged in a precise phalanx, stood in silent, motionless vigil.

Thirty thousand years of time is enough to alter many things.

The standard-issue power armor they wore had mostly been replaced, or else meticulously repaired and reinforced, shimmering with a cold, piercing light far sharper than before.

The aura of every single man was more than a grade stronger than it had been thirty millennia ago.

In this outer isle, devoid of the threats of the myriad races and rich in resources, they had cultivated in peace and explored forbidden, perilous lands together, allowing each individual’s strength to make significant strides.

Those who were once at the initial stage of Domain Lord had mostly reached the intermediate stage, and elites like Cang Lang had even touched the threshold of the advanced Domain Lord level.

Yet, the one thing that remained unchanged was the look in their eyes as they gazed upon Qin Feng.

It was a look compounded of awe, worship, fanaticism, and absolute trust.

Thirty thousand years had not diluted the miracle of that "one man breaking an army" in their memories; instead, with the passage of time, that scene had fermented within their souls, ultimately solidifying into an unshakable faith.

To them, Qin Feng was a god.

"War Commander!"

Seeing Qin Feng appear, Cang Lang stepped forward, knelt on one knee before him, and performed a standard military salute.

The ten-thousand-man phalanx behind him followed suit with a thunderous "boom," kneeling in perfect, rhythmic unison.

"War Commander!"

The mountain-shaking, sea-churning roar converged into a wave of sound that seemed to rattle the heavens, only to fall into instant silence the moment it was uttered.

To obey orders and prohibit what is forbidden—this was the mark of a true elite force.

Qin Feng’s gaze, however, did not linger upon them. His sight seemed to pierce through the endless void, passing over Cang Lang, passing over the ten thousand soldiers, and fixing directly upon the deep, dark vortex of the exit high above the firmament.

His soul, now transmuted into a "pure black quality," possessed an unimaginable sensitivity to the malice of the outside world.

In this moment, he clearly "saw" the scene beyond the vortex.

He saw the Prism Emperor of the Crystal Race, whose eyes, composed of countless compound lenses, burned with a cold, murderous fury.

He saw an Emperor of the Necro-race, surrounded by death energy capable of causing stars to fall.

He saw the Zerg, the Mechanical Race, the Shadow Race... at least five beings radiating the terrifying will of the Emperor-level, like five primordial demonic mountains spanning the cosmic sea, firmly locking onto the exit of the Isle of Dead Stars.

Their wills, crossing the barriers of the secret realm, had woven an invisible net, waiting for him to cast himself into the trap.

"Those Emperor-level powerhouses... are waiting for me."

Qin Feng said softly, his voice calm.

Yet, these words fell upon the ears of Cang Lang and the others like a thunderclap.

Their hearts tightened, and their faces instantly betrayed an unconcealable worry.

Emperor-level!

What kind of concept was that?

They were the great existences standing at the very apex of the human empire, and indeed, the pyramid of the myriad races across the entire universe!

It was true.

The Crystal Emperor had previously threatened Qin Feng, claiming that the moment he stepped out, he would be slain, ensuring he could never leave the star sector surrounding the Isle of Dead Stars.

Cang Lang and the others were worried, yet they believed the human race would dispatch its own powerhouses.

However, Qin Feng only smiled, and a whisper that no one else could hear echoed in his heart:

"Thirty thousand years ago, I swore an oath of genocide before your very eyes. Today, we shall see if the experts within our race are up to the task."

He was not a reckless man.

Daring to face an Emperor-level powerhouse, he naturally had his own reliance.

His first reliance was the high command of the human empire.

Outside the exit, there were surely human powerhouses confronting the myriad races.

"If they can protect me, that is naturally for the best. A happy ending for all."

"But if... they cannot..."

"Then today, I shall have no choice but to stage a cicada shedding its golden shell."

His consciousness sank deep into the origin of his soul.

There, a primitive, mysterious mask—half weeping, half laughing, in blue and white—floated in silence.

[The Twin Mask]!

This cosmic relic, obtained from the "Twin Rivers" and capable of drawing the gaze of the universe’s own will, was the true source of his confidence to face all things and swear an oath of genocide!

"This [Ultimate Body], forged with such great difficulty, would be a tremendous pity to lose here today. After all, it consumed the flesh, blood, and souls of millions of elite myriad-race warriors, along with a vast ocean of secret treasures."

"But, as long as my soul origin can use the properties of the [Twin Mask] to instantly swap places with the 'symbiote' I left behind in the territory of the Mechanical Race, I shall escape with my life."

"Then, today’s losses will not be unbearable."

"As long as my origin remains intact, with my current understanding of the 'Ultimate Path,' it will likely only take a few tens of thousands of years and a portion of resources to reshape an Ultimate Body with an even firmer foundation and greater potential!"

This was his deepest, most hidden secret!

The ultimate trump card, belonging to him alone, which he had not even disclosed to his master, the Heaven-Swallowing King!

He could fail, he could be "killed," he could lose a physical body that had cost him endless heart's blood.

He could fail countless times.

But his enemies, those high and mighty Emperor-level powerhouses—they only needed to fail once, they only needed to let him escape once, and one day in the future, they would be met with the calamity of total extinction!

This asymmetrical game was Qin Feng’s greatest advantage.

"War Commander! Please give the order!"

Cang Lang’s voice roused Qin Feng from his deep thoughts.

He looked at the ten-thousand-man phalanx kneeling before him, the madness and calculation in his eyes receding, replaced by a calm as still as an ancient well.

He surveyed the ten thousand comrades who had followed him, witnessed his miracles, and worshipped him as a god.

He saw the worry in their eyes, and beneath that worry, the resolve to follow him into a mountain of blades or a sea of fire should he but give the word.

Qin Feng nodded slightly.

"Mm."

He offered no further explanation, nor any impassioned pre-battle mobilization.

Because it was unnecessary.

His voice carried clearly across the entire outer isle, reaching the ears of every soldier.

"All soldiers, heed my command!"

"Today, we withdraw from the Isle of Dead Stars!"

At the command, Qin Feng and his ten thousand human soldiers rose as one, a thunderous surge of steel, disciplined and towering in their martial spirit.

Without a moment’s hesitation or doubt, they charged headlong toward the exit above, a gateway leading into an unknown storm of infinite, lethal intent.

...

Upon the cosmic chessboard, the intent to kill had become a tangible ocean.

The rotating spatial vortex of the Island of Dead Meteors, that gateway to the outside world, now resembled an egg about to crack, coveted by countless primordial beasts.

Beyond the vortex, the cold, void-like expanse of space, which should have been eternally silent, had long since lost its former tranquility.

It had been transformed into a vast, boundless killing field, constructed from pure malice and iron will.

Galaxies dimmed here, as if wiped clean by an invisible hand;

Suns and moons lost their luster, their laws and trajectories twisted by entities far more ancient and terrifying.

This coordinate had been stripped entirely from the mundane star charts, becoming a chessboard belonging only to gods and demons.

Countless war fortresses of the myriad races hung in the silence.

They were not mere cold steel, but primordial beasts that had lurked since the previous epoch, each large enough to eclipse a star.

Some were cast from unknown black divine metals, their surfaces etched with mottled battle scars—the eternal brands left by the strikes of King-level powerhouses.

Others resembled colossal, irregular crystals, refracting billions of ghostly lights within, as if imprisoning countless wailing souls.

More terrifying still were those fashioned from the skeletal remains of star-devouring beasts, their bleached frames mounted with dense batteries of annihilation cannons, the dark muzzles flickering with the cold, terminal light capable of vaporizing a living planet into fundamental particles in an instant.

These war machines remained silent, yet they struck the soul more deeply than any roar.

In the shadows of these steel behemoths stood the countless armies of the myriad races.

They made no sound, yet they formed massive battle formations that blotted out the sky, filling the void completely.

Each formation followed an ancient law of slaughter, binding the aura, power, and even the souls of millions and tens of millions of soldiers into a single, terrifying entity of war.

Their auras converged into a sea, their killing intent congealed into ice, driving the temperature of this sector to absolute zero.

Banners fluttered in the windless void.

These were not made of common cloth, but tanned from the hides of divine beasts and painted with the blood of Kings.

Emblazoned upon them were the oldest totems of each race: the diamond-shaped holy emblem of the Crystal race, signifying "ten thousand laws as one"; the spiral insect seal of the Zerg, symbolizing "infinite proliferation"; the bone throne of the Necro-race, representing "eternal silence"...

The flags snapped, not stirring ripples in the vacuum, but whipping up a blade-like, materialized aura of slaughter.

At the forefront of these vast formations, in the core region where all light and law were warped, stood several figures radiating immortal divine might, as if they could crush the heavens of eternity, standing proud like the fulcrums of the universe.

They were the true masters of this encirclement, the Emperor-level powerhouses standing above trillions of lives.

The Prism Emperor of the Crystal race appeared blurred, as if not a physical entity, but woven from billions of rays of brilliant divine light.

Each ray seemed to refract the birth and death of a world, the rise and fall of a civilization.

He stood there quietly, and the surrounding space spontaneously crystallized into a glass-like state, as if all matter and spiritual energy would be assimilated into the purest laws of light before his will.

His will was cold and precise, like a perfect crystal, devoid of emotional impurities, containing only the lock-on of a target and the calculation of a result.

Not far from him was the Abyss-Slaughter Emperor of the Necro-race.

His existence was the most venomous curse upon the word "life." Endless, viscous, ink-like death energy shrouded him, forming an absolute "Dead Zone."

Within that domain, time itself seemed to moan and decay, and space presented an ominous collapse.

Vaguely, one could see the residual souls of powerful beings who had fallen eons ago struggling and roaring in that death energy, eventually becoming a part of his power.

Further away, the "Zero Emperor" of the Mechanical race existed in a vastly different posture.

Their will had long since turned this star sector into an absolute death trap from which not even a bird could escape.

The horn of war had not truly sounded.

Yet, an invisible, desolate, archaic, and iron-blooded flavor, as if transmitted from the distant previous epoch, echoed silently in the depths of every soul on this battlefield.

This was a phenomenon caused by the resonance of the universe when the will to slaughter reached its zenith.

With these Emperor-level powerhouses as the core, countless profound law runes representing "sealing," "execution," and "extinction" slowly ignited and glowed in the void.

Like stars in the night sky, they linked together, eventually outlining a massive, unimaginably vast execution array that covered several surrounding star systems.

The radiance of the array was not yet fully triggered, but that throbbing, restrained aura was more terrifying than any power already unleashed.

It felt as if billions of supernovae were compressed into a singularity, waiting for the command to detonate.

The Allied Forces of the Myriad Races had laid a net of heaven and earth, solely to hunt Qin Feng, to hunt the human Marquises, and to seize the Cosmic Crystal.

...

Opposite the myriad races, who resembled a black, raging sea, stood the human battle formations, equally fortified and no less imposing.

Lacking the grotesque and terrifying war fortresses of the myriad races, the human array displayed a different kind of order and substance—the weight of a civilization.

War motherships with archaic designs and powerful, fluid lines formed the first line of defense.

Each of these motherships was comparable to a giant planet, their hulls a deep, shimmering silver, refined from the toughest divine metals in the universe mixed with the Dao-bones of human sages.

On their hulls, there were no cold muzzles or runes of slaughter, but rather, etched with an ancient brush imbued with spiritual power, were vast, epic murals belonging to humanity.

There were scenes of ancient sages observing the birth and death of the universe to create secret arts; there were the tragic songs of countless heroes who bled across the galaxy to protect their home, becoming immortal monuments...

These murals were not mere decorations; they were the carriers of the human spirit, the inheritance of the fire of civilization.

Under the infusion of the will of human powerhouses, these epic murals would emit a faint radiance, forming an indestructible barrier of the "Light of Civilization."

These war motherships, connected head to tail, formed a silver Great Wall spanning the universe.

Behind the wall were the banners of the major elite human legions.

The Black-Gold Taotie flag of the "Heaven-Swallowing Legion" under the Heaven-Swallowing King; the Golden War-Halberd flag of the "War God Guard" under the War God King; the Nebula Vortex flag of the "Star River Fleet" under the Star River Emperor...

Each banner represented a glorious history of battle, an undying inheritance.

They drifted slowly in the void like a golden ocean.

At the forefront of this golden ocean stood several figures, confronting the Emperors of the myriad races from afar.

Most of their auras were restrained, not as flamboyant or outward as the Emperors of the myriad races, but they were like peerless divine swords hidden in their sheaths; that contained, hidden edge made their opponents all the more wary.

The Heaven-Swallowing King, Qin Feng’s master, was a burly figure dressed in a seemingly simple black martial robe; yet, the void around him presented a visible, inward-collapsing gravitational distortion.

Light, dust, and even the lines of cosmic law were swallowed and dissipated by an invisible, tyrannical power the moment they approached him.

He was like a human black hole, standing there in silence, capable of devouring all hostility and intent to kill.

Kings on the King List are all God-Forbidden!

The Heaven-Swallowing King was a God-Forbidden King-level powerhouse! Capable of battling an Emperor!

The Star River Emperor was a middle-aged man with a temperament as gentle as jade. He wore a blue star-robe, upon which seemed to be dotted real, slowly rotating galaxies.

His aura was the most restrained, yet the most vast.

Standing there, he seemed to have merged with the entire starry sky behind him; looking at him was like gazing up at a deep, boundless galaxy containing infinite mysteries.

The human Kings and Emperors stood before the formation, their might no less than that of the murderous Allied Forces of the Myriad Races!

Two terrifying wills, vast enough to distort the fundamental laws of the universe, engaged in a silent collision on this narrow yet infinitely vast battlefield—a clash more perilous than any earth-shattering battle.

The aftermath of the collision plunged everything nearby into a suffocating silence, the kind that precedes a tempest.

Those among the myriad races of weaker standing dared not even gaze toward the battlefield; merely sensing the ripples of the sovereigns' clashing wills brought a pain to their souls as if they were being torn asunder.

Time, in this place, had lost all meaning.

Perhaps it was but a fleeting moment, or perhaps a thousand years had already slipped away.

Both sides waited, waiting for the "singularity" that would ignite it all.

They were waiting for the exit of the Island of Deadfall to spit out the young man named Qin Feng.

To the myriad races, this man was marked for death; Qin Feng’s existence had shaken their perception of the younger generation of humanity, and the potential he displayed sent a tremor deep into the hearts of every sovereign.

Today, at any cost, he must be utterly erased.

...

Beyond the exit of the Island of Deadfall, suspended in the dark cosmos, a far more brutal and blood-soaked war had long since reached a fever pitch across a vast front spanning several star systems.

This place was a cosmic meat grinder, churning with remorseless efficiency.

In the frigid void, there were no deafening battle cries, only the eerie stillness of psionic annihilation and the silent, shrill wails of souls being erased at the spiritual level.

War fortresses, vast as floating continents, endured billions of concentrated strikes until their shields cracked like shattered glass, finally dissolving into the most basic particles of the universe amidst a blinding, silent flash.

Tens of thousands of warriors, regardless of the heroes they had been in life, vanished into nothingness in that instant, along with the steel behemoths they commanded.

Galaxy-level powerhouses, who in smaller cosmic nations would be worshipped as gods, ruling over star sectors and receiving the homage of billions, were as fragile as ants on this battlefield.

Perhaps a moment ago, one was attempting to suppress an enemy formation;

The next, a beam of destruction, fired from an unknown origin, had pierced his very soul.

Black hole-level entities, the true pillars of the universe capable of dimming stars with a single thought, formed the sharpest assault legions here, locked in mutual slaughter, exhausting every secret art.

Yet, even as powerful as they were, they fell like wheat before a scythe, row after row.

A human black hole-level commander had just struck down three Zerg opponents of equal rank with peerless blade techniques, but before he could catch his breath, he was enveloped by a giant net silently emerging from subspace.

In a heartbeat, his soul was rendered viscous and imprisoned, then crushed by a vast, overwhelming force—along with the surrounding tens of thousands of miles of space—into a dense singularity, returning forever to oblivion.

His death, on this battlefield of despairing grandeur, could not stir even the slightest ripple.

The warriors ahead had no time to look back in mourning; the reserve troops behind had already filled the void he left, and the torrent of battle never ceased for a single instant.

Life, here, had become infinitely cheap.

Glory, dignity, and all that had come before were ground to dust by this colossal war machine, leaving only the most primal, the most pure, and the most blood-soaked struggle for the survival of one's race.

Yet, the true masters of this vast battlefield—those Sovereigns and Kings standing at the pinnacle of the universe—seemed to share a tacit understanding, refraining from truly plunging into the meat grinder below.

Their wills, their gazes, and their entire focus were locked onto one single place—

That absolute vacuum at the heart of the battlefield, left open by mutual consent, and at its center, a space vortex slowly rotating, exhaling an aura of antiquity and ill omen.