Chapter 1177: True History

Chapter 1177: The True History

In the firmament of mirrored history, the starry sky was warped, its stars blurred, countless bubbles shimmering with a spectrum devoid of red.

Yet red existed within the light itself.

Crimson auroras surged like waves, as if waging war against color!

Within that play of light and shadow, the Sovereign of the Aurora and the ancient, withered hand drew ever closer.

Xu Qing sensed this scene—and suddenly recalled the Demon King he had glimpsed in the Second Layered World...

Everything unfolding above bore a striking resemblance to that realm.

Meanwhile, upon the ruined earth below, the towering spacetime gate flickered.

But its radiance held no hues—only black and white.

Thus, the gate appeared both as a portal and as a mirror,

just as it had in the First Layered World.

A thread of understanding rippled through Xu Qing’s consciousness like concentric waves.

At the same time, he noticed that the black-and-white light emanating from the spacetime gate was not composed of rays, but rather drifted like luminous dust, scattering outward.

It swirled around the Young Sovereign of the Aurora and Immortal Lady Linghuang, continuously seeping into the Young Sovereign’s body—and resonating with Xu Qing’s own awareness.

This did not surprise him greatly.

The grains of spacetime had formed because of him; the ripples of spacetime had been stirred by his will.

Thus, the spacetime gate naturally resonated with his Spacetime Edict, allowing the Young Sovereign and Linghuang to borrow it, using their ancient memories as anchors to forge a bridge linking past and present.

Therefore, this journey into true history required Xu Qing’s witness.

“Young friend,” murmured the Young Sovereign of the Aurora softly, his voice drifting through the void, reaching Linghuang’s ears and Xu Qing’s mind alike, “would you accompany us, husband and wife, back into the past?”

His tone was gentle, and beside him, Linghuang’s gaze softened as she added her vow:

“Young friend, you are our benefactor. No matter what fate awaits us on this journey, we swear—we shall ensure your safety!”

Xu Qing fell silent, sensing both the Young Sovereign and Linghuang. At last…

“Alright.”

“Thank you…”

The Young Sovereign whispered, and Immortal Lady Linghuang echoed the sentiment.

Then, hand in hand, they exchanged a lingering look—and stepped together through the spacetime gate!

As though walking back before the First Layered World ever existed.

Walking toward… true history!

…

History unfolds within time—it is the passage of years, the silt and gravel carried by the river of moments.

It is also time’s own record and reflection.

Time itself forms the backdrop and framework upon which history develops.

Thus, people organize and interpret past events through time—but equally, time reveals its own flow and transformation through the evolution of history!

To ordinary mortals, this remains largely conceptual. But for cultivators who command the Spacetime Edict, it is an unparalleled opportunity to deepen their understanding!

As for the mirror—it is as if one places a looking glass upon that river, naturally refracting the image of the stretch of water it covers.

That image is mirrored history.

“Its formation stems from my former Edict,” said the Young Sovereign of the Aurora, his figure emerging slowly from the mirror alongside Linghuang. Standing upon the river of time, he spoke gently to Xu Qing.

Xu Qing felt his inner comprehension confirmed, his grasp of the Time Edict enriched further. He then sent forth a thought:

“So everything here is shaped subjectively—because people believe spacetime can resemble a river, thus it becomes one.”

Hearing this, the Young Sovereign smiled.

“My father once said those very words.”

As he spoke, he took Linghuang’s hand and stepped down into the river below, sinking beneath its surface until they stood upon the gravel and silt of its bed.

They walked forward—upstream against time’s current.

With each step, the gravel and silt beneath their feet shimmered and stirred.

Though seemingly altered, once their footsteps passed, everything returned precisely to its original place, undisturbed in the slightest.

This phenomenon caught Xu Qing’s attention.

“My father offered an explanation for this,” said not the Young Sovereign, but his wife, Linghuang, speaking softly to Xu Qing.

“The past, once turned like a page of a book, fades with time’s passage and no longer exists. Thus, all traces left behind are veiled in secrecy—and these secrets form their own order.”

Xu Qing fell into deep contemplation.

The Edict of Nine-Shore Sovereign was Mystery itself—a clear testament to how that sovereign perceived history along his path.

Different perspectives rendered history and time more complete.

Thus, walking the river of spacetime, treading upon the gravel born of history, this peerless opportunity granted Xu Qing profound insights, allowing his Spacetime Edict to unfurl fully within the temporal current.

Gradually, his Edict began to ripple.

Those ripples grew into whirlpools, drawing in deeper understandings of spacetime.

At last, they erupted into an unprecedented surge, spreading in all directions like hidden currents overturning gravel.

And every glinting grain contained within it visions of spacetime—

now flooding into Xu Qing’s heart.

For Xu Qing, who cultivated the Spacetime Edict, no blessing could rival this moment: immersed within time yet transcending it entirely.

The changes around him were naturally sensed by the Young Sovereign and Linghuang.

They exchanged a glance—and slowed their pace considerably.

Though their hearts burned with urgency to reach their goal,

they knew this journey was an extraordinary boon for Xu Qing.

And just as he had chosen to aid them, they would honor his growth in return.

Thus, as they advanced—personally experiencing the passage from the present into mirrored history, then onward into the true past—Xu Qing’s comprehension of spacetime reached incomparable heights.

And when that understanding reached its zenith, a faint sound of shattering echoed unexpectedly within Xu Qing’s mind.

It was the sound of a lock upon his Spacetime Edict breaking open.

Countless grains of spacetime sand, the moment the lock was undone, churned violently—rushing in from all directions, swirling around, flooding into Xu Qing’s consciousness.

Their quantity far exceeded that of the earlier hourglass!

Until, within this river of time, Young Lord Aurora and Immortal Phoenix drew near their destination—stepping onto the very origin of their memories…

A soft sigh echoed through the ages.

It stirred the sands, rippled the river’s flow, and through Xu Qing’s Spacetime Edict, conjured page after page of visible history before Young Lord Aurora’s eyes—slowly unfolding, replacing everything else.

The river of time dissolved. The ancient Celestial Palace appeared before them.

Yet a gauzy veil seemed to hang over their vision—like flowers glimpsed through mist, the moon seen through water…

Everything grew indistinct.

Amidst this haze, Xu Qing saw a figure.

It was Lord Aurora himself.

Clad in white robes, his hair silver-white, he stood alone before an ice mountain.

His expression bitter, bewildered, brimming with profound sorrow—emotions that coalesced into utter loneliness.

“From now on, it will only be the two of us… father and son. I’ll stay by your side as you grow.”

Within the ice mountain lay an infant, sealed away.

The child’s identity needed no words.

…

The vision blurred further, as if time itself had been hastened, accelerating its flow. Faintly visible was the infant slowly growing under Lord Aurora’s care.

There were tender moments of first babbling words.

Laughter as his father lifted him high.

Joy in climbing mountains hand-in-hand.

And at dawn’s first light, a boy perched on his father’s shoulders, pointing to the sky, his voice echoing:

“Father, I want the sun and moon to always exist. I love them.”

Lord Aurora smiled—as if, in this companionship, he too found healing.

And the once-empty Celestial Palace gradually filled with life.

Attendants arrived, followers gathered, disciples joined—and Xu Qing even glimpsed the Fourth True Lord among them, each appearing one by one, all smiling warmly.

They honored the Lord, cherished the young heir, and together watched him grow.

The palace overflowed with light.

…

But beauty was fleeting.

As the pages of history turned and time flowed onward, the palace’s radiance dimmed—then vanished abruptly on this day.

Darkness flooded the heavens and earth of the Celestial Palace, seeping into every corner.

From the shadows emerged the Lord—not in white robes anymore.

He wore black, his raven hair billowing across the palace, eyes cold as he ushered in slaughter.

With his own hands… he crushed his followers, erased his attendants, and mercilessly slaughtered his disciples.

All four disciples met gruesome ends.

The entire palace reeked of blood.

Blood pooled on the ground; shattered flesh clung to every building.

When silence finally fell upon the palace, only one boy remained—cowering in a sea of blood, trembling, eyes wide with terror, drowning in endless despair.

Before him, darkness coalesced—and his father’s form floated down, slowly raising a hand.

Yet that hand trembled; the darkness churned.

His face twisted fiercely, as if wrestling with himself, struggling to restrain something—until at last… his hand descended, gently stroking the boy’s head.

And with tears streaming down, the first light of dawn fell upon the boy’s face.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

The Lord’s robes turned white again; his black hair became silver once more. He embraced the shivering boy, murmuring bitterly.

Then he wiped the boy’s memory clean—and erased all traces of blood from the palace.

When the boy awoke, sunlight bathed the world. Everyone in the palace was there—their smiles unchanged, their behavior perfectly normal, just as they’d been in life.

They continued accompanying the boy, walking forward in joy as before.

The only difference was this: from that day on, Lord Aurora told the boy never to come see him when night fell.

And beneath the main hall, a subterranean chamber appeared—along with iron chains. Each night, unheard by any living soul, anguished roars echoed from within.

So passed the days, year after year…

The boy grew up and awakened his own Edict—a unique one, called Mirror.

But this Edict… was subtly altered by unseen forces.

On the very night he realized his son’s Edict had been changed, the suffering in the underground chamber surpassed all before—until… darkness once again stained the entire Celestial Palace.

Then, at sunrise, everything returned to normal.

Time would have flowed on as always, weaving through this illusory world of beings, confined to the realm of just father and son—

Until one day, a girl arrived, driven by unwavering resolve.

Thus, the number of the living became three.

Thus, a grand wedding unfolded before their eyes.