Crossing the boundless cosmos, forging the essence of heaven and earth—even escaping the cycle of six reincarnations, one cannot escape the great upheaval of the world.

The Cemetery of Gods and Demons is located in the central region of the Tianyuan Continent. In addition to housing the most powerful humans and top-tier cultivators of other races throughout history, every single tomb here buries an ancient god or demon. This is a burial ground belonging to deities and fiends.

The cemetery is lush with green grass and fragrant with flowers. Were it not for the dense forest of tombstones, one might mistake it for a beautiful garden. The outer perimeter of the cemetery is lined with tall Snow Maple trees, a unique species said to be born from the spiritual energy of the departed gods and demons.

The Snow Maple's jade-green leaves are full and vibrant, swaying gently in the breeze as if reminiscing about past glories. Its pure white petals are flawless, scattering through the air like snowflakes—the tears of a god, as if telling tales of old sorrows.

The cemetery presents a stark contrast between day and night.

By day, an ethereal aura fills the air, and sacred light bathes every inch of the grounds. One can witness various deities, manifestations of the undying divine thoughts of ancient gods and demons. One can even see Western angels dancing and hear Eastern celestials singing. The entire cemetery is enveloped in a solemn yet sacred atmosphere.

If this place is a paradise for gods by day, then by night, it is a sanctuary for demons.

As the sun sets and night falls, a dark, demonic energy surges from the graves, causing the stars and moon to lose their luster and the world to grow dim. At this time, one can see illusions of legendary fierce gods and phantoms of wicked demons running rampant throughout the cemetery, and hear the hair-raising wails of ancient evil spirits.

The sacred yet terrifying Cemetery of Gods and Demons is a holy ground worshipped by cultivators from both the Eastern and Western Tianyuan Continent. During the day, people often come to pay their respects. Even at night, some special cultivators, such as the Eastern corpse-herders and Western necromancers, can be seen coming to mourn.

The cemetery is at its most peaceful at sunset. The entire burial ground falls silent, without a single sound.

It was another sunset, another moment for the divine and demonic to switch places. The last rays of the setting sun bathed the Cemetery of Gods and Demons in an atmosphere that was both solemn and eerie.

Each tomb of a god or demon had been meticulously cared for, with fresh flowers placed before it.

Beside the tall cluster of gods' and demons' graves, there was a small, low mound. This humble grave was completely inconspicuous, without a tombstone or flowers. It was just a simple dirt mound, almost level with the ground. As years passed and wind and rain eroded it, this nameless grave was forgotten in a corner.

In the glow of the sunset, the god and demon tombs seemed even more imposing, while the nameless grave appeared even more insignificant. Yet, in that very moment, something strange happened to the low mound. It began to slowly crack, and clumps of dirt from its top started to roll down.

A pale hand emerged from the grave, followed by another. The two hands gripped the edge of the mound, and a young man with a bewildered expression slowly climbed out. His messy, long hair was covered in dirt, and his torn clothes clung to his body. Aside from his abnormally pale face, the young man looked very ordinary, the kind of person who would be completely unnoticed in a crowd.

"Where am I? Why am I here?" the young man muttered to himself, his expression growing more confused as he looked at the expanse of graves before him.

Suddenly, he was captivated by the inscription on a nearby tombstone. If anyone had seen him at that moment, they would have been astonished, for the ancient script on the stone was so archaic that even the old scholars of the Federation of Ancient Culture could only recognize a few words.

The moment he finished reading the inscription, the young man's expression drastically changed. He gasped, "The tomb of the Eastern Martial God, Zhan Wuji! Is... is this real? Is this truly the legendary Zhan Wuji, who once dominated the three realms and six paths? Can even a god not escape death?"

Another tall divine tomb next to it left him equally shaken. "The tomb of the Western War God, Caesar. Caesar? Is that the Western Main God who wore golden armor and wielded the golden holy sword?"

He seemed to recall something and turned to look around. The imposing tombs of gods and demons stood out in the setting sun.

"The tomb of the Eastern Cultivator, Fairy Peony... the tomb of the Western Goddess of Wisdom, Nas... the tomb of the Eastern Martial Immortal, Li Changfeng... the tomb of the Eastern Demonic Cultivator, Ao Cangtian... the tomb of the Western Great Demon King, Lucifer..."

"Oh my god! What has happened to this world? Did all the gods of the Immortal and Demonic Continents fall? Did they all get buried here?" The young man's expression was a mix of shock and disbelief, and his face was drained of all color.

"But why are the gods of the Eastern Immortal Continent and the Western Demonic Continent buried together?"

Suddenly, the young man noticed the small grave at his feet. He froze, a cold sweat drenching his tattered clothes. A chill ran through him as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

"I... I climbed out of a grave?" His eyes were hollow, and he stood in a daze, as if his soul had been pulled from his body. He collapsed weakly onto the ground.

"I am Chennan. I died, but now I'm resurrected."

After a long while, a glimmer of life slowly returned to Chennan's vacant eyes, and he finally showed an expression of shock. "My heavens, what happened? If I was already dead, why would you let me crawl out of the grave?"

"Did the heavens bring back this useless person to continue a mediocre life?" After the shock faded, Chennan's face showed more pain than confusion. He closed his eyes and held his head with his hands.

He remembered clearly that he had been defeated and killed in a duel. Yet, here he was now...

A montage of memories flooded his mind—of what once was, what was lost, what was eternal—leaving too many regrets in his heart.

The world was still vast, the flowers and plants still fragrant, but his heart felt empty, with no anchor.

After a long time, Chennan slowly got up from the ground. His gaze wandered through the cemetery, and he finally confirmed that it was a burial ground for gods and demons. After the initial shock, he gradually calmed down.

"Even the toughest adamantium gravestones have been eroded by time. This place must be unimaginably old. How much time has passed? A thousand years? Ten thousand years?" he murmured, a confused look on his face.

Looking at the forest of tombstones, his mind was filled with questions.

"The tomb of the Roaring Heaven God-Tiger, Xiao Zhen... the tomb of the Three-Headed Demon Dragon, Gail... the tomb of the Martial Saint, Liang Feng... the tomb of the Divine Knight, Otto. It seems that besides gods and demons, some human powerhouses and a handful of other-worldly cultivators are also buried here."

"What happened ten thousand years ago? Why did the gods and demons, who were said to be immortal, die? Why were the deities of the Immortal and Demonic Continents buried together? Why was I buried here?"

A gentle breeze stirred, tousling his dirty long hair and his lonely heart.

Chennan looked up to the sky and cried out, "Can anyone tell me... what the hell happened?"

No one answered him.

From the distance, the tall Snow Maple trees let loose a shower of petals. They fluttered through the air like a rain of tears; the departed gods were weeping.

"The gods are dead, the demons are gone, and I'm still alive. Why, God, did you let me crawl out of a grave? Where do I go from here?"

The sun was setting, and the sky was stained crimson, with the red clouds at the horizon edged in gold.

Chennan put his sorrow aside. He knew some things couldn't be helped, and he had to keep moving forward, one step at a time.

He carefully covered the small grave at his feet with soil before walking toward the edge of the cemetery. As he passed through the spirit-filled Snow Maple forest, he was surprised. He had never seen trees with such a rich spiritual aura. He wondered if this was a new species that had appeared during his "slumber" of ten thousand years.

When the pure white petals drifted down in front of Chennan, his vision blurred for a moment, and a forgotten memory began to resurface. It was also a season of falling flowers...

He remembered the "her" in his heart.

"The world has changed, and life is fleeting. Alas." Chennan shook his head and walked out of the forest.

By the time he left the Snow Maple forest, the sun had set. The peaceful Cemetery of Gods and Demons was now in turmoil. A dark demonic aura rose from the graves, and endless darkness began to shroud the entire burial ground.

Chennan faintly heard low growls from behind, but he didn't pay attention, thinking that wild beasts were coming out after sunset. He stretched his limbs and muttered to himself, "Ten thousand years. My body isn't rusty yet, is it?" He knew his martial arts skills were not extraordinary, but they should be more than enough to handle ordinary wild beasts.

Not far in front of the Snow Maple forest, three thatched cottages appeared. A skinny, old man stood in front of the door. He had white hair and a beard, and his face was etched with the wrinkles of a long and difficult life.

An unexplainable emotion welled up in Chennan's heart. This was the first person he had seen since he was born again. There was a hint of familiarity, a hint of loss, a hint of confusion...

Ten thousand years ago, he was born in front of his parents. Ten thousand years later, he was reborn and now faced this old man.

"Why would I associate my parents with this old man?" He laughed at himself.

The old man hobbled toward him with a cane, a sight that made Chennan nervous; it seemed as though a gust of wind could blow him over.

Chennan quickly rushed forward to help him, but the old man waved his hand, signaling him not to. The old man then spoke a few words to him in a voice as ancient as time, but Chennan didn't understand a single one.

The incomprehensible language sent a chill down his spine. He suddenly realized that ten thousand years had passed, and the language of his time had been left behind by history.

He had hoped to learn about the current world from the old man, but the language barrier shattered his hope.

Seeing his dazed expression, the old man's face softened, and his tone became gentle. But when Chennan still looked confused, the old man frowned. He then took Chennan's hand and led him toward the cottage.

Chennan numbly followed the old man, his intuition telling him that the old man meant him no harm. But because of the language barrier, he could only pretend to be deaf and mute.

The old man brought him to the cottage, pointed to a well nearby, then pointed to the water bucket, and went inside.

"He wants me to fetch water? Is he going to make me a laborer here?" Chennan thought to himself.

When the old man reappeared, Chennan realized he had been wrong. The old man's withered hands held out a set of half-worn clothes, clearly wanting him to change and clean up.

Seeing the faint smile on the old man's face, Chennan's face flushed. At that moment, he was in rags, with messy hair and covered in dirt.

A wave of sadness washed over Chennan. Ten thousand years ago, he had never been in such a pathetic state. He silently picked up the wooden bucket and walked toward the well.

He channeled his internal energy. With a slight exertion, his torn clothes completely shredded and fell to the ground.

This was once the divine silkworm armor! Time is truly merciless. What was once impenetrable by fire and water could not withstand the test of ten thousand years.

The cold well water washed away the dirt from his body, but it could not wash away the worries in his heart.

"What am I going to do? If I can't understand the language of this continent, I can't communicate with anyone. How will I survive in this world?"

Chennan put on the clothes the old man had prepared for him and walked to the front of the cottage, offering a thankful smile to the old man.

The aroma of food wafted over, and the old man slowly walked to the stove, gesturing for him to come over.

Chennan took the bowl of rice porridge the old man handed him, feeling a rush of emotion. Ten thousand years. He hadn't expected to be able to sit at a dinner table again. Life is full of surprises.

His stomach was empty, so he couldn't eat anything greasy. A bowl of rice porridge was perfect. After dinner, it was already dark. Chennan followed the old man into the house. The old man lit a candle and gestured for him to rest and get out of the rain.

The room's furnishings were simple: a wooden bed, an armchair, and a desk.

The desk was spotless, and a dozen books were neatly placed on it, but Chennan didn't recognize a single word on their covers. After ten thousand years, the language of the continent had completely changed. He felt a pang of disappointment.

After the old man went to another room, Chennan lay on the armchair, his mind a whirl of thoughts, but without a trace of happiness.

Ten thousand years ago, he had a prominent family, but he was ordinary himself. Living in that kind of environment, he carried too much pressure and was constantly tormented by pain. He had long grown weary of that life, and if it weren't for the attachment in his heart, death might have been a form of release.

Fate is a cruel mistress. Ten thousand years later, he was alive again. Although he was free from the heavy burden he once carried, everything had changed.

Chennan felt a bitter anguish. His family and friends were long gone, and his beloved was buried in the earth. Now, he was alone in this world, and he found life to be utterly pointless.

He scoffed at himself, "Did I escape history, or was I abandoned by it?"

The candle wax ran dry, and the flame gave a final flicker before the room was plunged into darkness.

Outside, the starlight dotted the sky, and the night was exceptionally quiet, but Chennan tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep.

He forced himself to calm down and circulated his family's secret martial arts. He wanted to see if his power was still there after ten thousand years.

His internal energy flowed like a small stream within him. After a long period of stagnation, his power showed signs of recovery.

As he intentionally circulated his energy, his senses immediately sharpened. He vaguely heard muffled, sorrowful roars coming from the direction of the cemetery, which made his hair stand on end.

"With so many fierce beasts, it must be dangerous for an old man like him to guard the tombs alone."

Chennan didn't know that at that very moment, the old man had already entered the Cemetery of Gods and Demons. He held a basket filled with fragrant Snow Maple flowers. The old man ignored the illusory fierce gods and demonic phantoms, and with a pious expression, he placed a few pristine white petals on each grave.

Chennan's "former residence," the small, low grave, had almost disappeared due to the hollowed-out soil settling. It was now only slightly higher than the ground.

The old man walked over unsteadily and sighed, "Alas, it's a shame you don't have a tombstone. You'll likely vanish from people's memories. This is probably for the best. Less glory, more peace and quiet. You won't be disturbed. Return to where you came from."

With that, the old man slowly knelt down and carefully scattered the raised soil elsewhere, and the small grave completely disappeared. A dozen or so petals drifted down from the air, leaving a delicate fragrance.

A ray of morning sunlight shone into the room through the window. Chennan opened his groggy eyes and murmured to himself, "That's strange. Why didn't my father send someone to rush me to practice my martial arts today? Oh, that's right. He's about to enter the Celestial Martial Realm. He has no time for me."

Suddenly, he noticed the simple furnishings in the room. He sat up abruptly and, after a long moment of silence, whispered, "So all of this is real. Ten thousand years have passed."

He gently pushed open the small door of the cottage and stepped into the yard. The fresh air, fragrant with flowers and grass, greeted him, refreshing his mind. A faint mist lingered in the forest, slowly drifting. Birds were not startled by his presence, hopping from tree to tree, their songs melodious. Chennan closed his eyes, using his heart to feel this harmonious, poetic scene.

"You're awake," the old man's voice came from behind him.

Chennan didn't understand the old man's words, so he just smiled.

After breakfast, Chennan stood up, pointed to the small path leading into the distance, and waved goodbye to the old man. Before he left, he bowed deeply to him.

An hour later, he arrived at a small town. Because his appearance was ordinary and his clothes were the half-worn ones the old man had given him, no one paid him any mind.

Chennan felt a mix of joy and worry. He was happy that his new life was about to begin, but worried that he didn't understand the current language of the continent.

Chennan was surprised to find that in addition to residents with black hair and black eyes like him, the town also had people with blonde hair and blue eyes, and others with red hair and blue eyes, blue hair and black eyes...

"It seems a lot has happened in the last ten thousand years. I must quickly integrate into this society."

Suddenly, Chennan felt a chill run down his spine. His heart grew cold. Relying on his intuition, he knew a master was watching him.

Not far behind him, a fifty-year-old Daoist priest shook his head and sighed, "Strange. I clearly sensed a peculiar aura on that young man just now, but after a closer look, it's gone."

Only after the old Daoist had walked away did Chennan dare to look back. He only saw a receding back, aloof and ethereal, like an immortal.

Chennan recalled his father's words: "Chennan, you must remember. Anyone who can see through the flow of our family's secret internal energy is not simple. They are either true martial arts masters or hermetic Daoist cultivators. You must be extra careful."

"He's a Daoist cultivator. Don't these people rarely walk in the mortal world?" Chennan knew how terrifying these people were. No one without deep cultivation dared to provoke them.

His father's words echoed in his ears: "To reshape the body, to solidify the soul, to achieve a state of being one with the heavens and a contemporary of the sun and moon—this is the ultimate goal of cultivation, the Celestial Daoist Realm. The path we martial artists take, however, is to defy the heavens and cultivate our bodies to reach that legendary Celestial Martial Realm. While this path is more difficult for most, and fewer people achieve it, it is..."

His father hadn't finished, but Chennan understood. Martial artists were not incapable of fighting Daoist cultivators. His father was the best example; even those who had achieved success in cultivation would treat him as an equal.

Thinking of this, Chennan's heart stirred. "I wonder if my father ultimately entered the Celestial Martial Realm. If he did, perhaps there's a chance we can meet again."

But then he remembered the forest of god and demon tombstones in the cemetery, and he felt a wave of dread.

"If my father did enter the Celestial Martial Realm, he probably couldn't escape..."

He felt a pang of sorrow.

People came and went on the street, and the sounds of buying and selling rose and fell, creating a lively atmosphere. Yet, Chennan felt incredibly lonely. He felt like an orphan of this world, abandoned by history.

"I am ordinary. Since I already died, why, after all this time, did you make me crawl out of a god's grave?"

A large patch of dark clouds drifted across the sky, and the light immediately dimmed.

Boom!

After a clap of thunder, the shops on both sides of the street quickly closed their doors. People hurried along, and in no time, the street was deserted, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the road.

After the lightning and thunder, the rain poured down. The icy rain soaked Chennan's clothes, and he felt a chill throughout his body. But his heart felt even colder, filled with an indescribable desolation.

"The world is vast, but where is my home?"

A curtain of rain fell across the world. A lone figure staggered through the street, letting the rain wash over him as if he were a drifting willow leaf.

"Where do I go from here? Ten thousand years ago, even if I was ordinary, I was still the son of a prominent family, with a status that others could only imagine. But now I've lost everything. Do I have to live a mediocre life, surviving in this vast sea of people? I am truly unwilling!"

"Haha, what's the point of being unwilling? Can you change any of this? You were mediocre ten thousand years ago, and you're still ordinary now."

Chennan answered his own question, his face filled with pain.

"Yes, I'm an ordinary person. My family's secret martial arts have regressed instead of advancing. I've fallen from the Great Success stage of the second heaven to the mid-stage of the first heaven. Am I really that untalented? People say that a dragon begets a dragon and a phoenix begets a phoenix, but I..."

"My father entered the Great Success stage of the third heaven of our family's martial arts at nineteen, his name shaking the world. By twenty-four, he was already a master. I am his biological son, but at twenty-something, I'm still stuck at the first heaven."

"I know my father never blamed me, but I really can't accept this reality."

"Heh, 'A tiger's son is a dog.' That's what all the family friends and acquaintances must have been saying about me behind my back."

"Maybe only she believed that I would one day shine brightly."

Thinking of "her" in his heart, Chennan was filled with a deep sense of sadness, an inexpressible pain welling up in his heart.

"Yuxin, do you know? My biggest regret is that I never said those three words to you: I love you."

Youth fades easily, and beauty grows old.

Yuxin was the eternal pain in Chennan's heart, the regret of his life.

Chennan ran blindly, staggering into a small alley. He felt an intense ache in his chest, and a metallic taste welled up in his throat.

Gag!

He opened his mouth and spat out a mouthful of blood, collapsing into the mud.

"Yuxin, I love you!" His vision went black, and he lost consciousness.