The Big Dipper Star Domain was shrouded in total darkness — a deathly silence, without even the faintest sound.
Except for the one Ancient Life Land that had been shattered into pieces yet preserved by the Desolate Lord, every other star had been ground to dust, reduced to flying ash, never to exist again.
An immortal cocoon drifted in suspension, hovering above the ruined Ancient Land. Its immortal light gradually dimmed, then sank into the darkness and vanished from sight.
Only at this moment, when all imperial might had dissipated, did the sounds of agonized weeping rise from the fractured Ancient Life Land below. No one could know how many had perished — blood flowed in rivers across the earth, and bones lay without end.
The strong had died by nearly half, leaving behind only the elderly and children. Other races fared no differently — only the old and weak remained, along with a small number of the strong, preserved as seeds of life to carry on into the future.
Yet without the sun, how could anything continue?
These Supreme Beings had failed in their ascension to immortality, and had clearly vented their fury upon the Big Dipper, seeking to annihilate it in one fell swoop.
Radiance emanated from the Desolate Ancient Forbidden Zones and certain ruins left behind by the Ancient Great Emperors, enveloping the earth and keeping the cold at bay, shielding what remained of the broken Ancient Land.
The Western Wastelands had fallen into deathly stillness, yet Mount Sumeru still stood — faint sounds of ghosts reciting Buddhist sutras drifted through the air.
The Southern Ridge had collapsed. Across the wild plains, the carcasses of ancient beasts and fierce birds lay in countless heaps, while many young creatures cried out, waiting to be fed — a scene of utter desolation.
The Seven Great Forbidden Zones of the Eastern Wilderness remained tranquil, yet still inspired awe and reverence — unfathomably deep. Perhaps some Supreme Beings would return and continue their long slumber here.
The Northern Plains were barren, with scarcely a trace of life. Central Province rang with the most weeping and suffered the most deaths. Unlike the sparsely inhabited lands elsewhere, this place had been densely populated — the bones truly piled into mountains and seas.
Relatively speaking, the Big Dipper had not fared too poorly. After all, they had already endured it — the Dark Upheaval could be considered over here, unlike other star domains where the torment was only just beginning.
“O Heaven, open your eyes and look upon this earth — is there any path to survival? Living creatures are plunged into misery, corpses and blood cover the ground everywhere. What hope is there left to speak of?”
On one planet, an elderly man with snow-white hair raised his face to the sky and cried out in furious grief, tears streaming down his aged face. At his feet, several children trembled with fear, while in the distance lay many corpses — their parents, their kin, all of them dead.
The Lord of the Divine Ruins descended here. He opened his mouth and inhaled, and boundless numbers of people, endless living beings, exploded into fragments. Blood spread across the stars, and countless streams of life essence rose as ribbons of radiant light.
Most of the strong had to die. Only a portion would be spared, allowing the inheritance of life in the Ancient Lands to continue — preserved for future Dark Upheavals to come.
As for the elderly and children, the majority could be spared, for both contained relatively little vital essence and did not fall within the range worth consuming.
The Lord of the Divine Ruins lingered here only for a brief moment, yet a billion living beings had already been devoured. That small star was now draped in misery — a dense blood mist filled the air, saturated with the sound of weeping. It had become a living hell on earth.
And this was still considered fortunate. The crises erupting elsewhere were far worse. Even some of the most renowned primary stars in the universe had faced catastrophic danger — with their large populations, the death toll was even greater.
Take the Ancient Star of Gouch’en, for instance. This was a place that had once given birth to a Great Emperor, a place of immense brilliance in its time, which had once stood as the center of the universe in a certain era. Yet now, when calamity arrived, it could not be stopped regardless.
The Stone Emperor had come!
This was an ancient Supreme Being of extreme ruthlessness — his heart had long since been drowned in coldness and indifference. Even if a hundred billion living beings perished, he would not so much as furrow his brow.
In the past, he had already consumed hundreds of billions of lives. Now, if he wished to extend his existence further, he needed even more — otherwise, it would have not the slightest effect.
Just as with consuming an immortality elixir — after the first dose, the effect would inevitably diminish sharply. Only by taking ten times, a hundred times as much could life be prolonged still further.
And if calculated in such terms, the number of living beings he required in this age was staggering beyond comprehension. The bare minimum was in the hundreds of billions — even a threshold of trillions might not be enough.
The universe was vast, with endless star systems, yet Ancient Life Stars were far fewer than one might imagine. The primary stars of domains like Gouch’en and Ziwei were even rarer still.
Even counting the smaller stars and the many small life realms opened up by ancient sages and saints of antiquity, the required number of living beings was still no small figure.
Moreover, this age’s Dark Upheaval did not involve only him — there was also the Lord of Samsara, the Immortal Celestial Venerable of Longevity, and several others, each requiring no fewer lives than he did.
And so, as they marched forward through this age, treading upon every corner of the universe’s eight wastelands, they were destined to leave rivers of blood in their wake — the entire universe would grieve and tremble.
Each Dark Upheaval could only be more terrifying than the last, and this age would reach the greatest extreme yet. Some fate-readers who had fallen into despair even predicted with grim pessimism that it might bring about the end of all creation.
“Year after year the flowers bloom the same, yet year after year different people stand beneath them — another age has come. I have been here before, and the scene of blood flowing like a flood was the same, though each time the feeling is different.” The Stone Emperor of the Undying Mountain, the Immortal Peak’s master, spoke with an air of serene indifference.
Below, countless figures fled in all directions — weeping, crying out, kneeling to pray to heaven, clutching their children, crawling and scrambling to escape. This was the tragedy of humankind.
Yet what good did it do? In the eyes of ancient Supreme Beings, all of these were nothing but ants — insufficient to stir even the faintest ripple in his heart. Just like that, with a single tap of one finger, several billion people burst apart. The radiant light of their lives poured into his mouth and nostrils like wisps of white mist drifting through the air.
The Stone Emperor had a heart of iron and stone. Even the most harrowing of sights could not touch the core of his being. After attaining the Dao, his will had become like iron; and after having severed himself with one slash, his blood had grown cold to the bone.
He turned and moved to another region of this primary star — in no hurry to annihilate all living beings, but instead letting the faintest trace of cold cruelty curl at the corner of his mouth as he savored the “myriad states of the mortal world.”
“Ahhh…!”
A saint screamed, struggling to fly toward the heavens, yet beneath the oppressive might of an ancient Supreme Being, he could not move even a single step — he simply shattered apart within heaven and earth. Even someone as powerful as a saint was nothing more than an ant at this moment.
No force could stop an ancient Supreme Being from coming forth to hunt. From sages at the peak down to ordinary mortals, all were prey to be killed — and the strong were the preferred choice, for they contained a greater abundance of life essence.
“Although this is a large star, even it is not enough for this Emperor. Still too little. And saints — I have not seen many. Have they all gone into hiding?” The Stone Emperor’s cold, indifferent voice was utterly chilling, shaking the surrounding starfield.
His thoughts reached across the eight wastelands. In a single breath, his divine sense swept across all the stars and released his imperial majesty without reservation. He then leaped into the sky and entered the star domain — from the darkness of the deep void, the many saints upon various stars cried out in agony and dissolved into rains of blood.
The Stone Emperor had only made one pass, yet the many saints belonging to the Gouch’en stars were already more than half dead or wounded. Even hiding within the star river was useless — a Supreme Being needed only a single thought to locate anyone.
“Leave behind some fragrant seeds. Leave them for the future.”
The Stone Emperor rose, and in one step disappeared from that great star — vanishing into the depths of the universe. The place was now awash in blood and water, the dead counted in the hundreds of billions.
And yet — it was still not enough to satisfy what he required.
On this day, the entire universe wailed. All living creatures howled in grief. The dark end of days had come, and there was no one who could offer salvation.
The Great Emperors had grown old and departed from the world. In this age, no one had attained the Dao — there was no one who could resist the Dark Upheaval. The bloodshed continued on…
The Dark Era officially began. It was an era of chaos and tragedy.
Whatever love, hatred, hatred, or passion one had felt; whatever lofty ambitions one had pursued on the path of immortality; whatever dream of attaining the Dao one had harbored — in this age, all of it was empty. Only surviving was real.
“Great Emperor of the Void, where are you now? Ten thousand peoples pray for you — may you live forever. Please fight for our human race once more… Ahhh, oh…!”
All living creatures wept in grief. In this dark age, they thought of the Great Emperor of the Void, who had once fought desperately across every corner of the eight wastelands. His entire life had been one of ceaseless battle, until the very last moment of his existence.
He had never stopped. Alone, he had once brought peace to all the domains, blocking the tide of dark chaos and saving countless living beings — it was a pity that he had died young, having lived for less than one full age.
“O Great Emperor of the Void, your people miss you dearly… please come back to life. How can this earth go on without you?”
Even some saints had begun to pray. Even some elder Great Saints who knew the secret histories were weeping openly — prostrating themselves and wailing in the direction of the faded location of the Big Dipper.
“Great Emperor of the Void, how could anyone forget you? You went alone to block the entrance to the Sea of Samsara, then bore the resolve to die fighting against the Undying Mountain. In this age, who will fight for us? Who will stand against the Dark Upheaval in our stead?”
On another primary star — Tongtian — tragedy was likewise unfolding.
The Supreme Being of Light and Darkness made his move, slaughtering across a million miles, opening his mouth to inhale the endless life radiance into his body.
Suddenly, a sharp pain jolted through his heart, and his body stumbled, for he had seen certain scenes — certain “memories” had come to him.
He saw a small boy dragging an old man’s corpse out from a pile of bodies, weeping bitterly as he flung himself into the old man’s embrace — white hair stained all over with blood.
He saw an infant curled up in a mother’s embrace, crying out in distress, small hand reaching up to touch a cold and youthful face.
He saw a young female cultivator explode into nothing — and a young man seemingly go mad, flinging himself down into the remains of blood and bone, slamming his head against the ground before taking his own life.
…
He too had once been weak. He too had once struggled. He too had passed through a period of growth that he could not bear to look back upon — and in this moment, he fell into a brief trance.
“Heh heh…” The Supreme Being of Light and Darkness pressed a hand to his chest and breathed heavily for a long while before laughing at himself: “My heart actually ached for an instant — did I recall something from the past?”
But swiftly, coldness replaced everything. Killing intent flooded his entire being. His eyes erupted with cold radiance, sweeping everything in sight. Boundless slaughter rose again — blood splattered across an entire ancient star.
“Great Emperor Wushi, once you suppressed the nine heavens and ten earths, driving the universe to tremble — now the star domains wither, all ten directions fall silent, and the human race needs you…” Cries of anguish resounded through heaven and earth.
The Dao-Abandoning Supreme Being walked a path of blood and slaughter, yet his harvest could only be described as ordinary — for he required no fewer lives than the Stone Emperor, and the quantity needed in this age was a tenfold, a hundredfold accumulation over the past. When truly calculated, the number was staggering.
On this day, he slaughtered his way to a massive star he had never visited before, one that held no place in his memory.
Yet when he descended upon it, his heart lurched violently. Two terrifying beams of light shot from his eyes as he fixed his gaze upon one location.
“The ancestral star of the Dominator Body — no wonder… The people here are all exceptionally strong. And there seems to be one place that is particularly unusual!”
In another region of the starfield, the Lord of Samsara was also on the move. He had already bathed three stars in blood, leaving boundless bones and waves of gore in his wake — shaking the universe to its core.
He moved along his path, crossing to the other shore of the starfield. He knew this place. He understood it was no ordinary location. Yet he had come nonetheless — for there might be great gains to be had here.
This was a water-blue star, now known in this era as Earth.
“Hangu Pass… still standing. It has endured several cycles of samsara and still bears this name. Ha!”