Chapter 461

Impossible to comprehend.

Was it the yin energy here that disrupted time, or did this world involve reincarnation and death, thereby affecting the flow of years, or some other reason?

Kamikawa Mitsu could not investigate further.

At this moment, the spacetime around him was chaotic.

The scenery in all directions alternated, as if two timelines were intersecting, swapping and overlapping.

One of these timelines was the present world of blood-soaked yin soil; the other was the yin soil world of the past, engulfed in a great war.

Past and present worlds crossed, their images sometimes blurred, sometimes real, sometimes chaotic—like a cinema projecting two film reels simultaneously onto a single screen, their visuals superimposed.

Did my arrival disrupt this place?

Or did I arrive here precisely when time became disordered?

Kamikawa Mitsu thought rapidly.

There was too little information to determine the cause.

The time distortion continued, intensifying; Kamikawa Mitsu did not know what would happen next here.

Then he would respond to all changes with stillness.

Kamikawa Mitsu stood in place, not daring to move, but activated his Immortal power—ready to react instantly, using Script Points and his own Immortal strength if anything unusual occurred.

Then.

The scenery around him changed.

It was not Kamikawa Mitsu returning to the past.

Nor was the past overlapping with the present.

It was as if a supreme being beyond time was gazing down upon the past, standing in the present, observing the past.

Around him appeared a hazy yet clearly visible past world of yin soil.

The past.

The yin soil world was vast, dim and eerie, yet not gruesome—strikingly similar to Kamikawa Mitsu’s memory of the Underworld.

The Underworld was filled with ghostly qi, icy yin winds, mountains and rivers shrouded in Youming qi—this was the realm of the dead, where souls rested and were reborn.

But here, a great war had erupted.

Countless beings fought here: ghosts, demons, Buddhas, gods, devils, immortals—all present, indistinguishable in good or evil, impossible to tell which side belonged to the yin soil world.

Of course, perhaps neither side did.

These beings were all powerful, mostly gods and demons, with even stronger ones among them; each wielded divine arts with brutal ferocity, their slaughter overwhelming.

Casualties were immense; after a short while, bones piled into mountains, turning the land into a chaotic graveyard.

Kamikawa Mitsu withdrew his gaze and turned to another direction.

There too, battle raged—many gods and demons clashed; several among them displayed exceptional strength, striking with fists, casting divine seals, unleashing arts that killed or repelled colossal beings.

These were likely the elite of both sides.

Like two ancient armies in battle, with ranks: hundred-commanders, thousand-commanders… up to Grand Generals.

These few gods and demons were, in effect, the thousand-commanders of their respective armies, holding considerable power and status.

They were formidable, moving effortlessly here, cutting down advancing beings and forcing back reinforcements.

Powerful as they were,

it did not mean they were invincible—opposing forces had thousand-commanders of equal rank and strength.

These beings noticed the situation and advanced without a word, attacking.

Divine arts flashed like lightning, countless and myriad, covering the entire region—too many to tell who had cast which art.

Those few powerful gods and demons were pierced through their bodies.

“Roar!!”

Kamikawa Mitsu’s gaze flickered—he saw a thousand-armed giant roaring.

Tall as a great mountain, its gaping mouth revealed fangs, terrifying beyond measure; its thousand arms swung together, with only a few beings able to resist.

Those who could not resist were crushed into pulp.

“This is the final battle—no retreat! We must reset everything!”

A deep, heavy roar erupted through the sky, shaking all beings here—those of weak cultivation either bled from seven orifices or exploded.

A figure emerged from the ancient city, walking with hands clasped behind his back; as he advanced, ferocious beasts lunged at him—but died before even touching his robes.

The thousand-commanders rushed to meet him; colossal beasts stomped down stars, swallowing sun and moon, their power immense—but before this figure with hands behind his back, they were like straw men.

A flash of light, countless forms flew apart—no one could stop his advance.

Only when another towering figure descended from the heavens—as if punching through the mortal realm into the Underworld, entering from the world of the living—did he finally halt the figure’s progress.

Kamikawa Mitsu did not focus on that towering figure; from start to finish, his gaze remained fixed on the one with hands behind his back.

He had seen this figure before—not just once, but the body now lay quietly in his storage ring.

This was the Re Tong Immortal corpse!

“Did he notice me?”

Another strange scene appeared—the figure with hands behind his back, as he advanced and pushed forward, seemed to pass by Kamikawa Mitsu’s location and glanced toward him.

That gaze was no casual glance—it was a look of recognition, as if he had noticed something.

Yet after looking, his brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion passing through—Kamikawa Mitsu knew that look well: when someone mistakes an illusion for reality, they express precisely this expression.

“What did that phrase mean?”

Seeing the Re Tong Immortal glance away and no longer look at him, Kamikawa Mitsu turned his attention to the phrase the figure had spoken.

Final battle?

Who was he fighting?

Without warning, Kamikawa Mitsu scrutinized this world again—only a battle of critical importance could erupt here as the final one; this place must hold something extraordinary, or else why choose it for such a war?

“Reincarnation… the Other Shore… could it be because of this?”

Kamikawa Mitsu frowned, solely because of the final words: “We must reset everything!”

For no reason, he unexpectedly recalled the Original Battlefield—the one without warning.

Perhaps it was because this brutal war rivaled the Original Battlefield’s horror, so I thought of the Original Battlefield.

Kamikawa Mitsu pondered himself, shook his head, and continued thinking.

“Why did the Re Tong say ‘no retreat’ instead of ‘no defeat’?”

Generally, in two-sided wars, victory or defeat is the key—retreat is acceptable, even in a final battle, one can retreat to regroup and fight again.

Of course, retreat might trigger a chain reaction leading to defeat, hence the warning: no retreat.

But if that were the case, one would naturally say ‘no defeat’ instead.

Retreat implies defeat; common thought would always be ‘no defeat’—this is a fixed mental pattern.

Yet the figure clearly said ‘no retreat.’

Unless…

This final battle can be lost, but cannot be retreated from.

Lose, yes—but not a single step back!

“Maybe this guy is unusual, afraid to use the word ‘defeat’?” Kamikawa Mitsu murmured, then thought it unlikely.

They had already reached the final battle—surely they had endured at least one or two brutal wars before; those who fought now surely held a death-defying resolve—if they feared defeat, they would never have joined, but fled in disarray.

There was no possibility that the enemy feared uttering ‘defeat’ would shake morale.

This was a transcendent war, not an ancient human conflict—ancient humans might have been ignorant, but transcendent beings could not be; even if he said ‘no defeat,’ they would understand it merely described a consequence, not a direct link to losing the war.

…