Chapter 1243: Daughter of the God Emperor

Chapter 1243: Daughter of the Divine Sovereign

Above, blood-red rays shimmered like auroras, spreading in wispy tendrils across the firmament, within which countless crimson moths fluttered—ethereally beautiful, breathtakingly sublime.

Midair, Xu Qing’s long hair billowed as he raised aloft the severed head of a god. In that instant, his silhouette seared itself into the eyes and memories of every cultivator on the battlefield.

This battle had been locked in stalemate between cultivators and gods—until Xu Qing and his companions appeared, becoming the decisive variable, the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

Their arrival tipped the scales irrevocably, hastening the end of this minor yet brutal conflict.

Roars of slaughter and thunderous clashes erupted skyward. On the battlefield below, the divine forces collapsed like a mountain crumbling under its own weight, retreating relentlessly before the surging tide of cultivators.

Zhou Zhengli, Xing Huanzi, and the others seized the moment, plunging into the chaos to ruthlessly harvest corpses and gather essence.

Xu Qing descended from the sky.

For him, gathering Source Essence was paramount.

Other corpse-looting squads followed close behind, circling like vultures eager for carrion.

Half an hour later, the battle concluded.

In that final moment, the field lay strewn with divine corpses. Though the cultivators had paid a heavy price, their victory was overwhelming—the gods were utterly annihilated.

Amidst mingled exhaustion and exhilaration, all eyes turned toward Xu Qing and his team, who still moved methodically through the carnage, harvesting Source Essence without pause.

Some among them bore wounds—some light, some grievous—but none slowed their pace. Each worked feverishly, driven by singular purpose.

This time, not a single member of the Nianlin Army dared interfere.

All watched Xu Qing’s group with profound respect.

Even the old man who once taught Xu Qing the rules of corpse-looting, along with other scavenger cultivators, halted their work, allowing Xu Qing’s team to claim first harvest.

Thus, with thousands of divine corpses at their disposal, their gains were immense.

Only after stripping eighty percent of the battlefield bare did they finally cease, gathering around Xu Qing.

He lifted his gaze toward the surrounding soldiers, then met the eyes of the Nianlin Army’s commander.

In that silent exchange, the commander clasped his fists and bowed deeply, voice hoarse yet resonant:

“Thank you.”

Xu Qing returned the gesture, then turned and vanished in a blur.

Zhou Zhengli and the others followed without hesitation.

Time pressed—they had another battlefield to reach.

As they departed, every eye in the field remained fixed upon them. To those watching, these nineteen figures radiated chilling aura and boiling bloodlust—each extraordinary, each a wolf among men.

Indeed, it was true.

Having survived countless trials, every one of these Ascended cultivators could stand alone against legions. Anywhere they went, they would be hailed as elites.

Half had already reached Quasi-Immortal cultivation; the rest stood on its very threshold. Their combat prowess was terrifying.

Together, they moved like a pack of wolves.

And leading them—undisputed—

was the alpha.

…

Time flowed onward.

Months slipped away like sand through fingers.

Throughout these months, Xu Qing’s team never ceased their harvesting, growing ever swifter, ever more refined—until mastery became second nature.

They appeared on battlefields far and wide, employing only one method: forceful corpse-stripping.

Such relentless activity spread their fame like wildfire. Soon, across the entire theater overseen by the Nianlin Army, nearly every cultivator either witnessed or heard tales of this fearsome looting squad.

Nineteen in number—most Quasi-Immortals, all seasoned veterans of war, masters of survival. Though prodigies, they carried no arrogance; though formidable warriors, they favored ambush and assassination. And when it came to harvesting, they left nothing behind—every site scoured clean.

They had elevated corpse-looting to an art form.

Their presence reshaped how military cultivators viewed all scavenger teams.

Other looting squads took notice too, many attempting to emulate them. Few succeeded—but the shift was undeniable.

Still, none could rival Xu Qing’s crew.

Gradually, this uniquely styled squad earned not just renown but also a name all their own.

They became known as…

The Undertakers.

Meanwhile, as time marched on, the war in the Left Flank Theater seemed to approach its pivotal moment.

At the center of the Left Flank, the Flesh-and-Blood Mill had reached its zenith—a blazing beacon drawing every eye.

Along the front lines, battles grew fiercer by the day.

Even the dullest minds among both cultivators and gods sensed something amiss.

Most believed this turbulence heralded the coming storm.

Yet another possibility existed—that, unnoticed, the storm had already passed.

Now, deep within the Fourth Star Ring, in the Right Flank Theater claimed by Them, alien energies saturated the void. Countless ancient stars had been carved into statues, radiating sacredness as they drifted through the cosmos.

Their number exceeded ten million.

Ripples emanated ceaselessly from each stellar effigy.

Upon every star-statue stood gods and their enslaved races.

Far off, a colossal river of stars coiled around infinite realms.

Within it lurked titanic beasts, masked horrors, and towering temples exuding dreadful divine might that permeated the emptiness.

Gazing outward, one saw endless arrays of star-statues and temples stretching beyond sight, blanketing the heavens.

Occasionally, vast tentacles surged from the star-river, breaching the void to slither between worlds.

Accompanied by murmuring whispers, this right flank of the divine host echoed eternally with eerie resonance.

Here lay the temporary stronghold of the gods’ right wing.

At its heart stood nine colossal altars.

Each altar was built from countless bones.

Some skeletons were stripped bare; others retained rotting flesh. The remains belonged to myriad races—cultivators, gods themselves, and their subjugated slaves alike.

An aura of supreme dread and death clung to them.

Upon each altar burned ghostly flames—pale, ghastly fires radiating outward in concentric rings.

Like candles of the dead, they cast silent, overlapping glows upon the surrounding darkness.

And at the very center of these nine altars, encircled by nine rings of candlelight whose flames overlapped completely—there… hung conspicuously a massive coffin without a lid.

This coffin was so vast its length rivaled that of a star.

Inside it… lay the corpse of a deity, entirely purple in hue!

In life, this being had borne three heads and six arms, its entire form wreathed in divine runes—a mark of supreme nobility.

For upon its body, those countless divine runes had woven together into a ring imbued with profound mystery!

Yet this ring still bore minute gaps—clearly needing but a sliver more to become whole.

Once complete… it would signify ascension to Sovereign Godhood!

Such a being, second only to a Sovereign among deities, could never be some nameless figure.

Indeed, this was the Right Flank Commander of the Divine Host—the very one who oversaw the entire right theater of war and commanded countless legions of gods!

A Peak True God!

But now… the being within the coffin was merely a corpse.

Each of its three foreheads bore a horrifying wound, piercing straight through its soul and shattering its divine authority!

It had fallen!

One month prior, a mysterious cultivator had crept near undetected—and struck it down in a single blow!

Had Xu Qing been here to witness this scene, he would surely have realized: this… might well be the reason why the cultivators’ left flank had become a meat grinder, transformed into a beacon luring all attention, the entire theater turned into bait!

Using the left flank as lure, cloaking their move beneath the guise of a guiding lamp—to execute an assassination!

Clearly, the assassination had succeeded!

Yet equally clear—if Xu Qing were present—he would also feel doubt stir within him.

If the plan was already complete, then why did the cultivators’ left-flank meat grinder continue raging on with such ferocity?

Unless… the assassination of the Divine Right Flank Commander was merely one step within a far grander scheme!

If that were true, then the cultivators’ overarching plan must be… nothing short of legendary!

At this very moment, around the coffin, where emptiness once reigned, figures began emerging from the void amidst the ghostly lamplight—each radiating terrifying auras.

Every one stood tall and imposing, exuding overwhelming divine might; each held noble station, for they were all True God Commanders of the Divine Right Flank.

Now manifesting, they formed a solemn circle around the coffin, standing vigil.

Then, as one, they bowed toward the starry heavens above.

As they prostrated themselves, the starry sky suddenly roared—a colossal rift tore open in the void, as though some supreme force wrenched it apart from within.

From that fissure spilled divine radiance, cascading in every direction.

Within that light could be seen a magnificent divine realm, boundless cosmos, and uncountable legions of gods—all likewise bowing in reverence.

Amidst this mutual worship, a graceful figure clad in azure robes slowly emerged from the radiance, stepping forward one pace at a time.

Its visage remained indistinct, impossible to gaze upon directly.

Its attire was resplendent—the blue fabric dyed from the convergence of countless seas within the Fourth Star Ring—and atop its head rested an ornate phoenix crown strung with dangling pearls.

Within that crown, a phoenix shrieked in anguish, while a fenghuang wailed in sorrow; and as for the pearls adorning it…

Upon closer inspection, each was unmistakably a transformed eye—

the most beautiful eyes plucked from the fairest deities of countless races.

Numerous, and all blinking.

Eerie yet exquisite.

Everything about this approaching goddess proclaimed her peerless status.

And indeed, truth matched appearance.

The instant her lithe form stepped forth from the rift, every True God gathered outside the coffin knelt in obeisance.

“Star-Eyed Luanxia!”

Their voices boomed like divine thunder, rippling through the starry firmament—so potent that even the laws of the Fourth Star Ring seemed, in that moment, to drape infinite favor upon her.

For she was the sole divine scion of the newly ascended God-Emperor of the Fourth Star Ring!

Among the divine host, a Sovereign God was a God-Emperor!

Her father was the supreme entity overseeing the war between the Fourth and Fifth Star Rings—the very rival contending against the Zhanlu Immortal Sovereign!

She should never have appeared here.

Yet she came now… because of the sudden death of the Right Flank Commander, who had borne a special mission yet unfulfilled!

This demanded her presence—to invoke her imperial bloodline’s divine authority and hasten the fallen commander’s return!

Through her bloodline’s power, any True God under her father’s dominion could return from death in mere months rather than eons!

Though not without cost, it was a price well within bearing—for this was precisely the manifestation of her father’s divine essence!

Moreover, her arrival carried another purpose.

She was to remain here, continuously accelerating the resurrection of fallen True Gods.

And today marked her first such ritual.

…

Meanwhile, at the very instant the daughter of the God-Sovereign descended into the Fourth Star Ring—across unfathomable distances, deep within the cultivators’ left-flank frontline—Xu Qing, who had been looting corpses on a battlefield, abruptly froze mid-motion.

Instinctively, he raised his head, gazing toward the direction of the Fourth Star Ring.

His brow slowly furrowed.

“There…”

Xu Qing pondered silently.

Just now, for reasons unknown, an utterly strange sensation had stirred within his heart—and even his very soul.

It felt like dread, yet more akin to premonition.

As if certain fated events were now unfolding inexorably, drawing ever closer with unstoppable momentum.