Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Chapter 2481: Chapter 2476: Sea Burial

A hulking creature born between heaven and earth—how could it quietly suffer beneath others for long.

The kind of radiance sprayed from its fin rays was, of course, not just for atmosphere; it was more like a special kind of Poison.

An ordinary Transcendent who took even a tiny bit of it would probably feel terrible, let alone taking dozens of times that dose in one go.

And although it had almost no effect on Fu Qian, he could still Empathize with this spirit of resistance.

Unfortunately, this time the attack that had been primed and ready to go failed to execute smoothly, without even needing Fu Qian to interfere.

Crack!

The nearest jagged fin ray actually snapped like a dead branch at that moment.

Relative to the size of the resisting beast, that thing was just some minor ornament, but considering how absurdly huge the latter was, the splash of the fin ray hitting the water was comparable to a tree falling—and then a whole forest.

With one snapping sound after another, all the fin rays aiming this way had already fallen into the water.

The toughest of them only managed, at the last moment, to struggle and spit out a thread of radiance.

And successfully used the ”recoil” to not only snap itself off, but also shatter its tip inch by inch.

Then came a gigantic claw sweeping in.

Its speed hadn’t even had time to build up before the thick Bone Plates and Scales on it disintegrated inch by inch in the same fashion and went flying off.

Truly, a mayfly entrusting itself to heaven and earth.

Facing such a scene, Fu Qian didn’t even dodge on one hand, and on the other couldn’t help sighing inwardly.

What had happened was in fact very simple: this ferocious giant beast had reached the end of its brief ”life.”

The Creations in the Sea of Ashes, whether they looked powerful or weak, were nothing more than fleeting glimmers in a brief swell.

In the same daze, they would vanish like bubbles; you could only say that this time he happened to witness one in person.

The process was even somewhat quiet.

Annihilation was clearly occurring simultaneously and without blind spots, and in the blink of an eye everything had collapsed like mud and sand sliding down.

The claw strike had already been its final motion; after that there wasn’t even a roar, as the massive body completely fell apart.

This was even ”melting upon entering the water” in the truest sense: its enormous limbs left not even scraps behind, directly merging into that pallid mass.

As for Fu Qian, who was exposed as a result, the many bloodlines extending from his feet had originally all been deeply rooted in the beast’s body.

Now that their Parasite had abruptly vanished and left them hanging in the open, they gave off a strong ”hydroponics” kind of visual.

At the moment, though, this didn’t delay Fu Qian at all; with a light leap, in the next instant he had already landed on the abruptly emerging shadow.

...

Time was precious, and at the moment it was even more so.

The forcibly conscripted mount returning to heaven and earth might be abrupt, but not incomprehensible; after all, nature is just that cruel.

Though as for the extra scene beside him, Fu Qian had no intention of taking it as a new birth of the Sea of Ashes.

For it to be that much of a coincidence would be a bit too much; clearly the greater likelihood was that it had been revealed by the perception restored through the Burial Scroll.

Admittedly, this external system was rather passive; it required the other party to observe him first before he could gaze back.

But this patch in front of him looked like shattered dead matter no matter how you saw it, which seemed logically a bit off.

However, if you regarded the Sea of Ashes as a whole, then the constant distortion it imposed on him at every moment—did that count as a form of gaze?

His anticipation of the Burial Scroll’s effects had stemmed exactly from such considerations, and it seemed it hadn’t let him down.

In any case, a moment like this clearly could not be wasted.

Fu Qian’s feet, which had already returned to their normal form, sprang forward again and landed at the feet of the ”Fallen Angel.”

He had to admit, from this angle it was even more overwhelming.

Pale like the exterior of the Spire, larger in scale than his previous mount by far, and that sacrificial tableau full of philosophical flavor—this could pass for a master sculptor’s work.

On the sword-like Spire, he could even see thorny vines like blood flowing down from wounds and winding their way along.

...

The style really did look a bit chaotic.

One had to admit the ash’s power to confuse was rather strong.

Given that everything was gray-white in hue, from this angle it was genuinely difficult to tell whether this was a petrified corpse or an architecturally lofty piece of art.

But one thing was beyond doubt: in this jumble of architectural wreckage, it was hard to determine the precise functions.

Lofty and imposing, intricate and elaborate, deep and oppressive... all sorts of styles were mixed far too intensely, to the point one almost suspected they hadn’t originally been one whole.

Still, no matter what, the location of the Angel’s corpse should count as the core area.

Besides, the reason they called it an Angel mainly came from the remnants of wings on its back; it was just a habitual name.

According to the enlightenment bestowed by the Blasphemous King back then, what had fallen from the sky into the Sea of Ashes was very likely a genuine Superior Being, not one of Their attendants.

So could that scene have been real, even with such a deviation?

With the image he’d seen at Silver Mist Manor surfacing in his mind, Fu Qian, at that moment, found himself thinking about the origin of the Sea of Ashes.

As a fairly well-known Forbidden Area, it was naturally considered, like other such places, to have been born in that Long Night which ended the Mythic Era.

But as to how exactly it had come into being, even in the information Yuan Shan had provided him there was no mention.

Perhaps one could say the same was true of other regions—that they were merely the remnants of Transcendent chaos and cataclysms, with no need for special annotation.

But don’t forget the absurdly vast area of this place, its staggering distorting effect, and the chaotic ”Miracles” lingering within.

Compared to most Forbidden Areas, it didn’t feel like it was on the same scale at all.

Was it really formed from the burning of Divine Remains?

With no chance to send them to a Bone Burial Ground, they could only be cremated on the spot and given a sea burial?

If that were true, which God’s remains were they? Or whose, plural?

And for what reason were they locked in this position ever since?

Furthermore, if everything within it kept phasing in and out, then how was this scene he was seeing now maintained to the present?

As a flurry of questions flashed past, Fu Qian had already stepped into that field of landfill-like debris.

The more chaotic the situation, the more one had to keep one’s thinking logical.

For instance, regarding his next move: on the surface it seemed that aside from going with the flow and passively observing whatever he ran into, there was nothing much to be done; but in reality he could still try to target certain things—such as the head of the Fallen Angel.

Even though the current era loved to emphasize incomplete beauty, who could guarantee its head had been missing from the start?

As everyone knew, the face was a very particular concept; even if it were just an anthropomorphized aspect of power, it might still help lock onto the Fallen Angel’s identity—oh?

While darting swiftly through, Fu Qian’s ghostlike figure suddenly halted at one moment, turning to stare at a collapsed stone beam to the side.

From this angle it looked empty, yet he couldn’t forget that he was currently under passive perception.

There was something behind it watching him.