The underwater castle was eventually reduced to a mere expanse of ruins. Seawater surged in, washing everything away. Fen'ao was somewhat surprised; he tried to search for any trace of her aura, but in the end, he found nothing.
That trace of aura had vanished to parts unknown, but it had indeed disappeared. Vaguely, he could sense a feeling of death. This sensation seemed to tell him that the girl who had once killed him was now dead. Although this feeling gave him a sense of unreality, it was undeniably what he felt.
His perception could not be wrong; after all, he was the most perfect lifeform. His body returned to human form, and a hint of smugness flashed in his golden eyes. He took out a hat, placed it over his long hair, and paced across the surface of the sea, enjoying the sunlight and tranquility of the moment.
At this point, why should he not believe his own senses? No matter how she had died, death was irreversible. Even a perfect lifeform like himself could not resurrect the dead.
“How strange. How exactly did she die?” Fen'ao sat cross-legged on the water. “The God's remains aren't here either. Just another fake temple. Fake death? Impossible! Ha! It couldn't have been suicide...”
“Of all the attributes of the gods, the one I pity most is... that gods cannot commit suicide.” A ghostly voice reached Fen'ao's mind. His eyes widened in disbelief...
Resurrection of the dead?
Until this moment, he had never doubted his perception. His perception was indeed flawless. Li Yue had indeed died once, but it was not a true death. To be precise, it was a reshaping.
Beneath the water's surface, a blood-red light shot toward the heavens. The entire sky turned a gory, deep crimson. A powerful aura of death soared into the clouds, as if the gates of Hell had swung open... and the one walking out was the Goddess of Death herself.
The distant battle was forced to a halt. All the undead turned in unison toward the temple, fear appearing in their otherwise numb eyes.
“How is this possible... my God...” The cool female voice trembled violently. Her eyes were filled with shock and excitement, which quickly transformed into fanaticism.
In the next instant, her chest was suddenly split open, and blood gushed out. Her body fell limply onto the deck. The aged figure beside her remained silent for a long time, no longer looking at the young captain separated from him by a whirlpool. He quietly ordered the retreat.
His hand reached toward the woman's trembling body. Her eyes held a fierce struggle and unwillingess, her lips twitching with effort.
“Sleep now. Sleep. You didn't actually sense anything. Just rest... You won't remember when you wake up.” The pale-skinned lady slowly closed her eyes. Her fiery, seductive hair flowed across the deck like her own blood.
The wound on her abdomen healed the moment the old man's hand moved away, revealing her pale stomach. However, her eyes remained tightly shut, as if she were still struggling within.
“The awakening of the God's remains... those fellows should be waking up soon. Otherwise, the current state of affairs will be difficult to maintain...”
The aged voice vanished into the eerie mist along with the fleet, but this did not mean everything had come to an end—at least not for Fen'ao on the sea.
He seemed to feel the most instinctive fear of this body, a fear rooted in death and in the deity who had killed him once before.
“That great tree has already fallen; there is no need to nurture another fruit. It is better for everyone if 'They' return to the astral realm...” An ethereal voice echoed from the gate beneath the castle. A true, pitch-black castle gradually emerged from beneath the water.
“With so many God's remains, how long can your mortal vessel hold out?” Fen'ao smiled disdainfully. He could sense that extremely powerful force, one that had truly surpassed the boundaries of a Great Mage and a Calamity, truly becoming a demigod.
A pitch-black crown formed in the air, entwined with vines and withered flowers. It hovered above the figure about to emerge from the black mist, representing the authority to rule over “Death” alone.
“Drip... Drip...” A figure emerged from the heavy black mist. Blood-red vertical pupils, pale long hair, and snake scales covering the skin at the corners of her eyes and on her arms. Her attire was almost identical to that of “Death”—the black divine raiment—and even her peerless beauty was an almost perfect replica.
In her slender, jade-like hand, she held a silver pocket watch, seemingly a small trinket she had found in Hell. She walked slowly, her fair feet seeming to step out from ancient history, treading upon the long river of time.
She produced a ring from nowhere and solemnly placed it on her ring finger. She tucked the pocket watch into the inner side of her clothes, leaving only the chain visible.
“It's time to end this... This time, I will certainly... let you return to the dust.” A blood sword appeared in her hand. She looked at the figure floating in the air with eyes devoid of pity, just as she would never mourn any soul drifting in the long river.
Fen'ao's form vanished into the ocean, diving deep into the silt. Numerous thread-like objects sprouted from his body, resembling the prototypes of root systems.
His body became a thick trunk. A tree, entirely white, rose from the sea, its holy aura piercing the clouds. For a moment, one could even vaguely hear the singing of angels.
“This is the sun of the twilight... yet you treat it as the light of dawn...”
A brilliant blood blade sliced through the sea, parting the waters and splitting the newly formed tree in two. Everything reached its ultimate conclusion at this moment. The aftershock of the sword intent, carrying the will of death, surged into the clouds. Everyone witnessed this strike that pierced the heavens, accompanied by black and blood-red bolts of lightning, as if it were about to cleave the sky itself.
No living creature can adapt to death. Because life happens only once; once you are dead, there are no more chances...
Rate on N.U.
