He stood like a solitary wanderer on the shore of ages, looking back at his once familiar homeland, seeing only decay and estrangement.

"Perhaps the only thing that proves my existence is the bloodline!"

Chen Sheng felt a stirring in his heart, the Dao Principle around him suddenly converging, leaving only a trace of blood path origin quietly awakening.

The moment the blood path sense spread out, it was as if an invisible scarlet frenzy erupted between heaven and earth!

Wherever one’s gaze landed, whether it was the bustling city with its throngs of mortals, the beasts charging through the wild mountains, or the spirits lurking beneath the deep sea.

In the depths of their bodies, there existed an extremely thin yet tenacious thread of crimson silently circulating.

This thread, though its hue was dark, resonated indescribably with Chen Sheng’s Divine Soul, as if billions of stars were converging towards the center of the universe.

Looking out across the world, it seemed enveloped by an invisible crimson net, where every living being was a node within, all connected by the power originating from his bloodline.

Throughout the mountains and earth, countless streams of scarlet light seemed to surge secretly, from cities to wilderness, from deep sea to the cloud tops, everywhere and within every life.

Chen Sheng murmured in his heart:

"Blood dyes a world... so this is what it looks like."

This is no exaggeration but the truest portrayal—his bloodline had already penetrated this world as essential as spring rain nourishes, becoming an irreplaceable part of life’s legacy here.

Pondering deeply, all this seemed reasonable, perfectly natural.

Reflecting on the past, in his previous lifetime, he was indeed the Father of Myriad Phenomena Beasts, marrying across races and bearing countless descendants...

Later, he established the Tianyuan Imperial Court, unifying the universe, further spreading his bloodline.

His bloodline traces had merged into countless races, proliferating until now, branching out and spreading across all clans.

Time flowed, tens of thousands of years passed in the blink of an eye.

This world went through numerous dynastic changes, the rise and fall of clans, with many ancient legacies already severed, and powerful races buried in the dust of history.

Yet, the inheritance of bloodline is more enduring than any civilization.

The blood traces merged within each clan, though possibly thinning through countless reproduction and fusion, never ceased.

Like the most resilient seeds, they rooted and sprouted within every new life form, passed down through generations.

Chen Sheng withdrew his gaze, the crimson in his eyes gradually faded, and the blood path sense around him slowly retracted.

He nodded slightly, comprehending:

After hundreds of thousands of years, who could escape the Father of Myriad Phenomena Beasts, the Tianyuan Heavenly Monarch, who once ruled the universe?

Every living being in this world is the continuation of his bloodline, each one a testament to his once existence.

"Just as this world is about to reach its end, I can lead these living beings into my Panwu Realm!"

...

Suddenly, from the direction of the upstream green mountains, came a thunderous tiger roar—howl!

The sound waves rolled like thunder, sweeping along the wind, causing the trees in the forest to sway wildly.

Chen Sheng lifted his gaze slightly, his expression unchanged, yet that one glance penetrated layers of mountains, absorbing all the sights into his view.

Amid the depths of the barren mountains, the vibrant great tiger originally perched in the temple had transformed into a crimson-robed Divine Monarch, its aura of calamity surged violently.

The black energy previously bound by Zhou’s spell had shattered, its shape flickered, transforming into a scarlet stream of light, breaking through the temple’s roof, rushing toward the peak’s ritual altar.

Where it passed, the eerie winds howled, creating a mournful sound, stirring dry leaves and dust across the sky, yet not greatly damaging the rocks or vegetation.

This is the characteristic of combat during the End of the Dharma Era, mostly focused on the level of Divine Soul, with limited damage to the material world.

Atop the mountain peak, Zhou’s Daoist’s chanting abruptly ceased, his face turning crimson, abruptly spitting out a mouthful of blood, splattering a scarlet Blood Bead on the altar before him.

His previously tense body instantly wilted, face as pale as paper, his eyes full of shock and disbelief.

"Impossible... how can my Soul Lock Spell fail!"

Zhou’s throat emitted a strange raspy noise, the backlash of the spell had invaded his mind, making it difficult for him to even stand steadily.

At this moment, the crimson-robed Divine Monarch had already leapt to the altar’s sky, its scarlet eyes locked firmly onto Zhou:

"Evil Daoist, die by my hand!"

With that, a low growl escaped his lips, and the cold wind grew fiercer, sweeping up the Peach Wood Sword on the altar, which snapped one after another.

Li Guanlong was in poor condition and, seeing this tiger’s might, could only rely on his backing:

"Friend, I admit my fault in this matter, my senior brother is the Celestial Master of Xishan. Could you spare me this once?"

The Red-robed Divine Monarch snorted coldly:

"What of the Celestial Master? You curse me, I too can kill you!"

After saying this, he abruptly opened his massive mouth, his cheeks puffed up.

First came the dull explosion of a "humph," a black airwave visible to the naked eye spewed out of his mouth, entwining towards the top of Li Guanlong’s head.

In an instant, another thunderous "ha" followed, with another dark yellow airwave in its wake.

The two airwaves intertwined, forming a black and white vortex, with an eerie suction, rushing straight at Li Guanlong’s sea of consciousness.

This was his trump card Divine Technique—Hum and Ha Qi!

This Qi could seize souls and spirits; ordinary cultivators once entangled, their Divine Soul would be forcibly dragged out of their flesh.

Li Guanlong was utterly powerless to resist, only able to watch helplessly as the black and white vortex collided with his brow.

"No—!"

He let out a desperate wail, a flash of Spirit Light appeared at his brow, and an illusory yellow figure was about to break free—it was his original Yin Spirit.

Yet before his Yin Spirit could fully escape his body, it was tightly entangled by the vortex formed by Hum and Ha Qi, gradually peeling away from his flesh.

The moment the Yin Spirit was pulled out, Li Guanlong’s body, like a marionette losing its strings, fell stiffly on the altar, eyes wide open, already silent, though the flesh had not yet completely decayed.

And his yellow Yin Spirit, encased by Hum and Ha Qi, struggled and twisted, emitting a heartrending wail, but could never break free.

The Red-robed Divine Monarch saw this, a sinister grin spread across his face, and with a sharp inhale, he swallowed it into his mouth, smacking his lips, savoring it—obviously nourished by devouring the Yin Spirit.

His thoughts swirled in his sea of consciousness:

"Though this Daoist’s Yin Spirit is weak, it is tainted with incense and prayer power of considerable purity."

"Keeping it suppressed within me, and refining it with my own Yin Fiend Qi for forty-nine days, can cleanse its original intelligence, transforming it into a powerful wandering ghost."

"By then, with this spell-savvy wandering ghost as an aide, even against a Celestial Master, I might have a match."

After speaking, he glanced at Li Guanlong’s corpse on the altar, then at the crowd fleeing at the foot of the mountain, a hint of disdain flickering in his eyes, and turned into a streak of crimson light, delving once more into the depths of the Cangshan Mountains.

The Yin wind subsided, leaving only a cold corpse on the mountaintop, scattered Peach Wood Sword fragments, and a ravaged altar.

In the cabin, Chen Sheng gently shook his head, his eyes devoid of any ripple.

This spiritual battle during the End of the Dharma Era, to him, was mere strife among ants, lacking any spectacle.

Li Guanlong, with his shallow foundation and crude spell, even without backfire, was certainly no match for that Mountain Monarch, his fate deserved.

The old boatman beside him, already terrified out of his wits by the upstream chaos—the mountaintop wails, fleeing crowd, that earth-shaking tiger roar—all heralding the onset of disaster.

His face ashen, hands tightly gripped on the oars, body trembling uncontrollably, muttering incessantly:

"It’s over, it’s over... The Mountain Monarch has emerged! Quick, turn around! Quickly turn the boat and get away from this place of trouble!"

The old man’s words had barely fallen when he hastily turned to rush into the cabin to urge Chen Sheng to escape together, but upon turning around, where was the figure of that young gentleman in blue?

The wine cup on the table was still warm, the few plates of snacks barely touched, only a heavy bag of Silver quietly lay at the corner of the table, with some wine stains on it, evidently just left behind not long ago.

The old boatman was momentarily stunned, then his pupils shrank abruptly, realizing something.

With a thud, he knelt to the ground, pulling the boat lady who had just arrived after hearing the noise to kneel, continuously kowtowing towards the direction where Chen Sheng vanished, his forehead hitting the cabin floor with a thud, respectfully calling out:

"Thank you, Divine Immortal, for the reward! Paying respects to the Divine Immortal! Farewell, Divine Immortal lord!"

Though the boat lady did not know what transpired, seeing her father’s solemnity, she too followed his pious kneeling.

"Where is the young gentleman?"

She looked at the empty cabin, the memory of the young gentleman in blue’s gentle demeanor flashed in her mind, suddenly realizing, whom she saw was indeed a reclusive deity, making her heart even more desolate.