Chapter 1203: More Human Than Many People

Chapter 1203: More Human Than Many Humans

Those stone steles merely trembled once.

Hundreds of star systems remained utterly dark, without a single glimmer of light.

It seemed that Xu Qing’s words had not yet reached the point of shaking heaven and earth within this Fifth Star Ring.

At the same time, as the steles quivered, strands of divine intent began to emanate from them across the scattered star systems, echoing with ethereal voices:

“Absurd!”

“A god is a god!”

“How can a god possibly be human!”

“Regardless of whether they were born divine or attained divinity later—any who choose the path of godly cultivation must forsake all humanity at the very moment they take that step!”

“What you see and feel is nothing but a false persona, carefully crafted by gods during their cultivation merely to advance more smoothly!”

“You are not the first to be deceived by gods… nor will you ever be the last.”

“Young one, heed this warning—do not let them fool you!”

“Throughout history, those who befriended gods have all ended in bitter regret!”

“Now, retract your words, and this old man’s relics shall be yours!”

These strands of intent reverberated through the starry expanse like lingering echoes, sinking deep into Xu Qing’s mind and soul.

Xu Qing fell silent.

His eyes grew distant, filled with recollection.

He was pondering. He was judging.

The buried immortals here were no longer souls; what they emitted could scarcely be called divine thoughts.

They were the lingering fixations of warriors who had died in battle.

Their entire lives had been spent warring against the gods—from birth until death, their stance never wavering even slightly. To them, all gods were one and the same!

And once, Xu Qing had shared their view entirely.

Until he witnessed the Empress’s transformation into a god.

That moment shattered his worldview!

Thus, Xu Qing spoke calmly:

“Honored elders, in my homeland, there existed sacred lands where gods ran rampant. My family, my childhood—all were tormented by the alien essence of these gods… and the sacred lands showed no mercy. They abandoned humanity and fled Wanggu.”

“They stood aloft in arrogance, indifferent to human life and death, seeking only to manipulate events from the shadows and continue their exploitation.”

“And humanity gradually declined. Countless emperors exhausted themselves for our survival, and great sovereigns took up swords, holding fast with the grandeur of mountains and rivers to protect us.”

“Yet still, humanity could not rise again.”

“Innumerable humans became fodder for alien races—scenes so wretched I have witnessed them myself, far crueler than parents exchanging children to eat.”

“Our entire race crumbled slowly in darkness, losing its identity, teetering on the brink of total extinction.”

“At that moment, one person emerged—from amidst calamity, from the ruins of annihilation.”

“She was the Empress of my homeland’s humanity!”

“But by then, every hope she once held had been severed; every path before her lay broken. Only two choices remained.”

“Either her people would perish…”

“Or she would become a god.”

“In the end, she chose divinity!”

“All the infamy of betraying sects, abandoning doctrines, and defying ancestral oaths—she bore it alone!”

“She declared: ‘If the sacred lands abandon humanity, then I shall take up their duty. With my own strength, I shall preserve the flame of Wanggu’s human race!’”

“She proclaimed: ‘If Heaven and Earth treat humanity as playthings and offer no blessings, then I shall bless them myself. With my own body, I shall forge peace for Wanggu’s descendants!’”

“She vowed: ‘I seek no eternal life for myself—only the everlasting prosperity of my people, to restore the glory of Wanggu as a great race!’”

“She insisted: ‘I do not wish to ascend alone—I shall carry with me all the departed human emperors, and together we shall become gods!’”

“She decreed: ‘Henceforth, five human emperors shall rise as Corpse-Gods—though devoid of wisdom, they shall wield divine might, embodying the will of humanity and guided by its destiny, guarding our foundation and striking terror into alien hearts!’”

“She swore: ‘I shall be the God of Humanity, protecting my people for ten thousand ages of peace!’”

“And finally, she said: ‘For the karmic consequences of my actions and the calamities I unleash upon eternity—I alone shall bear them all!’”

Xu Qing’s voice echoed through the starry void, phrase by phrase.

Each word carried his memories; each syllable conveyed his heart.

With these words, with this voice, he painted for all the heroic spirits the scene he had witnessed—the Empress’s ascension to godhood.

At last, Xu Qing lifted his head and gazed at the countless stone steles.

In a low, solemn tone, he spoke:

“To me, such a god is more human… than many humans!”

“I know full well—not all gods are like her.”

“But humans too have good and evil.”

“So too among gods—however few they may be, such beings exist.”

“Therefore, junior disciple will not alter his conviction!”

Xu Qing bowed deeply.

After that bow, icy silence spread throughout every star system in the realm. The stone steles ceased trembling entirely, their inscriptions fading away.

No relics. No inheritances…

Not a single thing flew toward him!

His words—they did not accept them. Nor did they send forth any more ethereal whispers.

After a long while, Xu Qing turned silently and walked away.

This time, he gained nothing—but he felt neither gain nor loss.

Life must be walked by oneself; scenery must be seen by one’s own eyes. Only by ceaselessly moving forward, witnessing every vista, can one slowly shape one’s beliefs—

One’s view of life, understanding of the world, perception of all living things.

All these converge at last into a unique stream of thought.

That… is what makes one truly human.

From now on, Xu Qing would still kill gods, still plunder them, still remain cold-blooded.

But among them—those like the Empress—he would fight for.

Because in his heart, the Empress was no god.

She… was human.

More human than many others—truly human.

With this thought in his heart, free of regret, Xu Qing stepped calmly toward the colossal gate.

He was ready to depart, to return to Moyang and await the summons.

Yet just as he neared the gate, on the verge of stepping through, suddenly—the gate roared, shaking violently.

A killing intent surged forth from within, sharp and solemn.

Xu Qing halted mid-step. His eyes narrowed instantly as he looked up.

Someone was coming—from beyond the gate!

Not one, but over a hundred.

Each clad in strange armor, drenched in blood—not only their own, but that of gods as well.

Exhaustion lay hidden beneath their silence, and deeper still, grief.

They advanced without a word.

At the center of their formation, more than ten cultivators bore a massive coffin upon their shoulders.

Upon it rested a banner bearing the insignia of the Fifth Star Ring.

Xu Qing watched silently, then quietly stepped aside.

The group paid him no heed; they marched onward in sorrow until they vanished into the distance.

From their retreating backs, Xu Qing could clearly sense something else beneath their grief—an instinctive, chilling aura of slaughter.

It was not the kind born from mere conflicts between cultivators. This killing intent, Xu Qing knew well.

It was the aura of war itself—the martial balefulness forged only on battlefields!

They had come from the front lines!

And the being within that coffin… Xu Qing already knew.

It must be the remains of an immortal—one who fell in battle.

An immortal hero, laid to rest with honor!

Xu Qing stood solemnly.

He watched them halt at a patch of void, release the coffin, kneel as one, and begin chanting an ancient dirge.

The song was both a summoning and a eulogy.

As it echoed, stars emerged from the void—more and more, like grains of sand, like earth itself—gathering upon the coffin, slowly burying it.

In time, the stars formed soil, then a star system, and finally, a stone stele rose.

The cultivators rose slowly too. At their leader’s gesture, they cried out in unison:

“Immortal Lord, partake!”

Their voices rang through the cosmos—farewell laced with valor, lingering long…

Then, as one, these warrior-cultivators turned and departed with solemn dignity.

Xu Qing did not leave immediately. Instead, he walked to the newly formed star system where the immortal hero was buried, bowed deeply, and gazed upon the stele.

“Life is but a dream; time flows like song. Across stars and seas, all must part.”

“I, Ling Ke Immortal Lord, slew True Gods, drank their blood, left this imprint behind. I usurped their nest—to glimpse the future… When He returns, He shall be me!”

“If it is He, my bones shall gleam with gold; let descendants erase them, to sever the True God’s will. If it is I, silver light shall blaze—and I shall slay gods once more!”

This immortal differed greatly from those Xu Qing had encountered before.

He seemed determined to exploit the True God’s law of immortality—to perish together with it!

A strange light flickered in Xu Qing’s eyes as he leaned closer to examine the inscription—when suddenly, a sigh echoed behind him.

He turned.

An old, stooped figure approached through the starry void—none other than the tomb guardian from the altar outside the great gate.

Step by step, the elder came forward and stood before the stele.

“The war,” he said softly, “has entered its next phase.”

“More heroes shall join these honored dead. And this one—I’ve heard his name before. All his life, he sought to unravel the principle of the True God’s immortality.”

The old man sighed again.

Xu Qing stepped back respectfully, pondered a moment, then bowed and asked, “Elder, what war is this?”

The elder turned, his gaze deep with meaning.

“The storms of the world fall equally upon all beings. If some feel no rain, it means someone has shielded them from it.”

“Zhanlu Immortal Sovereign is that shield. He holds the frontier, repelling invasions from the Fourth Star Ring—this is the War of Star Rings, the clash between gods and immortals.”

Having spoken, the elder looked away into the distance.

Then he raised his hand and drew forth a bronze bell—its clapper missing.

Plain as it seemed, the moment it appeared, ripples stirred across the starry sky, and faint, ethereal hues shimmered within.

“Long ago, a dear friend of mine fell in battle to a God Sovereign of the Fourth Star Ring. Though his body perished, this treasure of his was melted down—yet did not vanish. It became this.”

“Within it lingers a trace of that God Sovereign’s might.”

“He asked me to find a worthy soul to pass it to.”

Xu Qing’s eyes sharpened as he looked at the elder.

The old man waved his hand, letting the bell drift gently beside Xu Qing, then turned and began walking away.

But his voice echoed through the void:

“I heard your words.”

“That Empress Human Sovereign—you spoke of her. I admire her deeply.”

“This world is complex, as is human nature. Do not concern yourself with others’ judgments.”

“I believe, if my old friends here still lived, with their wisdom, they would understand.”

“But now, all that remains of them is resolve—their unyielding hatred for the gods.”

“You are exceptional. You should not leave empty-handed.”

“This item… I give it to you.”

The elder grew distant, his form fading into the starlight—only his final words drifting back, soft and lingering:

“Such gods… I have met them before. More human than many others—truly human.”