Chapter 1633

Gazing at Ye Ling's retreating figure, Qin Yu drew a deep breath, waved his hand to retrieve a memory crystal, and imprinted the scene of Ximen Wu Di being suppressed into it, then stepped forward into the void black hole.

Hum!

The memory crystal trembled, radiating brilliant light that gleamed under the bright moonlight, exceptionally dazzling.

When the light faded, a blurred image appeared within the memory crystal—the same scene of Ximen Wu Di being suppressed, with a golden battle spear standing before him.

In the image, Qin Yu was also present, a mocking smile on his lips: "The mighty Ancient Holy Body, reduced to this? Or do you, like my father, harbor the same foolishness, believing a pseudo-Saint-King weapon could contain me? How childish."

In the image, he held a pearl—the battle weapon that had severed Ximen Wu Di's arm.

As for that pearl, it was a pseudo-Saint-King weapon: the Chi Xiao Battle Spear, taken from Ximen Wu Di's hands, yet never thoroughly studied before colliding with Ximen Wu Di, who had fused it into his body, causing his combat power to surge.

He indeed lived up to expectations, relentlessly crushing Ximen Wu Di at every turn.

And Ximen Wu Di was truly a waste, utterly defenseless.

Boom! Crash!

The memory crystal trembled twice, then finally vanished.

"I've completed your fate," Qin Yu said coolly, tossing the memory crystal aside without concern it might be stolen—its memory seal, crafted at pseudo-Saint-King level, was utterly unbreakable even by a peak Great Saint.

He did this precisely because he could not bear to watch Ximen Wu Di die horribly, let alone be suppressed to death.

Night fell, and he vanished once more into darkness.

Here, Ximen Wu Di's physical body had burned to ash; the last lingering thread of his soul-will collapsed, and his memories vanished entirely.

In this life, he no longer belonged to Da Chu; his homeland and native soil no longer belonged to him—all was reduced to zero.

Ah…!

From the dark, silent black hole, a roar echoed, shaking the nine heavens, brimming with infinite fury and unbearable resentment—his most precious memories had all been erased.

He was an orphan, utterly alone, wandering destitute for over twenty years.

Now, he had found his parents—but they were separated by life and death; his most precious things had been utterly destroyed.

"Who are you? Why did you kill my parents?" Ximen Wu Di roared, hysterical, each scream like thunder, tearing through the black hole.

"They bore unforgivable sins, destined to die without even a grave," Qin Yu said calmly.

"I'll kill you! I'll exterminate your nine clans!" Ximen Wu Di, hair disheveled, drenched in blood, oozing crimson like a demon or a rabid dog, eyes blazing red.

"Kill me? Are you worthy?" Qin Yu sneered, thrusting one finger forward, piercing Ximen Wu Di's third eye and pinning his soul to the rock wall, then slowly withdrawing his hand.

"A mere ant, daring to defy heaven? You're not worthy," Qin Yu sneered. "I am Qin Yu, Holy Lord of Qinglong City."

Ximen Wu Di said nothing, eyes bulging with blood vessels, twisted like a demon, speaking slowly, word by word: "I curse you—may you never know peace in any life, may you…."

"You truly aren't afraid of death," Qin Yu laughed coldly, instantly extinguishing Ximen Wu Di's soul mark. "If you wish to die, this Saint shall grant your wish."

Saying this, he swept his sleeve, snatching Ximen Wu Di's treasures, then slammed one palm toward him.

Puff!

This outcome was inevitable—Ximen Wu Di's body turned to ash, leaving only a single drop of essence blood.

His essence blood, as it fell, transformed into a golden streak, shooting toward the depths of darkness.

It was Ximen Wu Di's life essence blood, infused with his longing, guilt, sorrow, and grief, carving a mournful arc through the black void.

"And you," Qin Yu said after Ximen Wu Di's life essence fled, stepping forward to pursue it—he possessed a secret technique to track life essence blood, even if it cost him lifespan, he would capture it, making Ximen Wu Di taste despair, using his bloodline to honor his parents' spirits.

Zing!

Qin Yu leapt forward, instantly catching up to Ximen Wu Di's life essence blood, swinging the golden battle halberd to strike it down, aiming to obliterate it.

Yet he underestimated Ximen Wu Di's life essence blood—it dodged this devastating blow and raced straight for the black hole's exit.

"Where do you think you're going?" Qin Yu roared, stomping to shatter the exit, chasing the essence blood once more.

Boom!

With a clang, he missed again—the essence blood had escaped the black hole.

The black hole fell silent once more; Qin Yu returned beneath the starlit veil.

This time, he did not rush to search—Ximen Wu Di was a Saint-King of a feudal state; annihilating him was a matter of moments. He was in no hurry.

"So this is the bloodline of the Ancient Holy Body? Truly extraordinary."

"Then I shall first aid you in awakening your memories," Qin Yu murmured, flipping his hand to retrieve a bronze mirror, pressing it against Ximen Wu Di's chest, as a strange force surged forth.

Immediately, he sat cross-legged, focusing his mind to perform the technique, using the mirror as a medium to forcefully activate a forbidden art, seeking to reawaken Ximen Wu Di's consciousness—he needed Ximen Wu Di's memories.

His so-called summoning was crude and direct: Soul Search Technique.

Though Ximen Wu Di had never witnessed Soul Search Technique firsthand, he knew of it—he had encountered this Famen in the Netherworld, a method that invades a cultivator's spiritual sea to steal memories.

This technique was exceedingly cruel; once activated, there was no turning back—it would extract memories in one go. Unless your spiritual awareness was vast enough, you would suffer backlash and damage your spiritual sea.

Hence, Soul Search Technique was classified as forbidden—never used unless absolutely desperate. If backlash struck, death and spiritual annihilation followed; even with Master Tongtian's attainments, survival was impossible.

Qin Yu, however, was supremely confident and fearless, forcibly activating Soul Search.

Soon, Ximen Wu Di's faint spiritual awareness surfaced a memory—his life before age three.

Then, memories from age three onward were erased.

His memories were wiped clean, leaving only those of Ye Ling and Ye Fan; as for Ji Ningshuang, he had forgotten her—or rather, he refused to speak of that life, for he had a wife and two daughters, both peerless beauties.

"Damn it, how could this be?" Qin Yu gritted his teeth, eyes blazing with fury—he had done his utmost to erase Ximen Wu Di's past-life memories, yet never imagined his life essence blood still held them. He had underestimated Ximen Wu Di's life essence blood, assuming that once his consciousness was erased, so too would his memories vanish. But they remained—deeply hidden, so well concealed that even this Saint-level cultivator had detected nothing.

His face twisted grotesquely, veins bulging on his forehead, eyes crimson and bloodthirsty, as if driven mad—he swept his palm, obliterating the desk and jade chair, causing an entire palace to collapse in thunderous ruin.

"Break for me!" After a long while, he roared, leaping to his feet, arms thrusting skyward, violently striking the heavens, trying to shatter the ethereal veil—but no matter how hard he strained, it was futile; between him and that void lay heaven and earth, and even his combat power could not budge it an inch.

Suddenly, his gaze cleared slightly—as if he had glimpsed a great secret: the boy named Ximen Wu Di was not his true name, but a false alias.

"Ximen Wu Di, you cannot deceive this Saint," Qin Yu gazed upward at the heavens, lips curled to reveal icy white teeth, eyes cold and lifeless, radiating lethal glares—his words brimmed with boundless killing intent and boundless hatred. He had long known Ximen Wu Di's true identity—and precisely because he knew it, he dared not kill him. Ximen Wu Di's background was even more terrifying than his own; he dared not provoke him.

Not only did he dare not provoke him, he even had to revere him; though he was a Saint Master, he was merely at the peak of Saint King, far from the Saint Emperor realm.

His enemy was not merely one supreme Pretender Emperor, but also one supreme Emperor—such an existence was not something a mere Saint could dare to challenge; if he truly provoked Ximen Wu Di, he would invite utter annihilation; such an enemy was utterly beyond his capacity to match—even a Saint King could not withstand the pressure of a Pretender Emperor.

Fortunately, this day came late, leaving time to salvage the situation.

Now that Ximen Wu Di's life essence blood had departed, there was no longer any threat; all that remained was for Ximen Wu Di to awaken, and his memories would be unsealed.

Thinking of this, he waved his hand and retrieved a jade token, inscribed with a transmission talisman pattern, and informed others of this matter.

Nightfall quietly descended, the moonlight bright and clear, bathing Da Chu in silver.

In the secluded mountain valley, beneath a peach tree, a stone platform had appeared; upon it lay Ximen Wu Di, his breath steady and prolonged.

Qin Yu stood beside it, silently watching, hoping for a miracle to arise.

A day later, he turned and took his first steps, stumbling forward in fits and starts.

Yet his gaze grew ever dimmer, exhausted to the extreme; one misstep nearly sent him toppling over.

One month and five days later, again night fell; Qin Yu halted, staring blankly at a certain spot, where a lantern hung, glowing with a dim yellow light, casting warmth upon his aged cheeks.

"Master," he murmured softly, extending his hand to touch the lantern; in an instant of daze, he recalled past years—he was Qin's illegitimate son, abandoned by the Qin clan, wandering the streets, until his Master took him in, taught him to read and write, passed on to him cultivation methods, instructed him in martial arts; he was an orphan, and only his Master had loved him most.

His Master was but a mortal, neither a cultivator nor an alchemist, merely an ordinary man who, in a single night, lost all his kin, wandered in hardship, and finally could bear it no longer—he joined the ranks of the Immortal Wu Di, becoming a humble guard, protecting the Immortal Wu Di.

But who could have imagined that such vigilance would last a thousand years; through endless cycles of time, he endured the vicissitudes of ages, survived countless trials, and became a Pretender Emperor, then a Saint Sovereign.

He was fortunate—he received the Immortal Wu Di's grace, gained a heavenly opportunity; yet he was also the source of calamity—the Emperor's Dao Immortal Flame had been sealed for thousands of years, and he had spent his entire life guarding it; each time he awoke from midnight dreams, he could not help but recall the horror of those days—layer upon layer of corpses, strewn across the Immortal Wu Di's tomb.

He did not know how terrifying that great demon of Honghuang truly was; he only knew that demon was a towering mountain he could never surpass in his entire life.

"Emperor… Emperor, your disciple begs you—save your disciple!" He knelt prostrate, his body trembling.

Yet his kneeling received no response whatsoever; the entire mountaintop lay utterly silent, not a sound to be heard, not a trace of energy to be sensed.

He knew his Master had perished, buried and erased by time; the Emperor's tomb was a realm of nine deaths and one life—even a Saint Sovereign could barely penetrate it; within it lay a boundless, lawless supreme demon, the very one who slaughtered the Emperor and destroyed the entire Xuanhuang Continent—in a single thought, Zhao Qiankun vanished, all things turned to ash.

He had still failed; even his Master could not escape slaughter—what hope did he have against that demon?

"No… no," Qin Yu clutched his head, tears streaking his face.