Chapter Thirty-Two: The Forbidden Land of Ancient Times

Three helicopters flew across the sky, stirring up a cloud of dust. Two Z-19 attack helicopters escorted the Z-20 transport like vigilant bodyguards, wary of any potential danger. After all, the residents here had been evacuated a week ago, the military had abandoned the area, and all troops had been redeployed inland, so void spirits could appear at any moment.

Inside the Z-20, a special operations squad was suiting up in protective gear, fully armed. The team leader cradled his gas mask, his gaze sharp as a wolf’s. “Listen up,” he said, “our main task this time isn’t combat, but data collection. There's been a mysterious fusion reaction here recently, and command suspects it’s related to void spirits. Once we land, Luo Yi and Wang Hao, you’ll take the high ground for overwatch. The rest of you, collect the necessary data fast and prepare to withdraw immediately. Understood?”

“Understood!” The team nodded in unison.

“Captain, approaching the designated area. Preparing to land.”

“Hammer reporting: no abnormal activity detected in the vicinity. Landing is clear. Over.” The message came from one of the Z-19s.

“Roger, Big Bird received. Preparing to land.”

Inside the cabin, everyone checked each other’s gas masks, activated their mini-cameras, and secured their detection equipment. The captain opened the comm and said, “Bow reports: we’ve reached the designated coordinates, preparing for airdrop. Over.”

“Aurora acknowledges. Stay safe. Over.”

As the captain slid open the cabin door, his gaze deepened at the scene before him. The tactical map’s marked town was gone, replaced by a giant crater spanning dozens of miles—about a hundred meters deep, shaped like a great bowl, as if the earth itself had been scooped away.

The Z-20 touched down gently. The Bow squad leaped out, Luo Yi and Wang Hao scanning left and right before settling on a distant rise—the only vantage point left. The two Z-19s circled the area, vigilant.

“There’s intense magnetic activity here. The ground surface has vitrified, indicating extremely high temperatures before. No radioactive contamination detected—instrument readings normal. In the air… there’s a faint hum, like electricity.” As the team rapidly set up their instruments, the captain reported every anomaly to command.

He glanced at his electronic watch, stepping toward the pit’s bottom. “The closer I get to the center, the stronger the magnetic field, and there’s a buzzing in my ears. Movement’s becoming difficult, and the temperature’s rising.”

At the Xuan Yi Center, Wu Yifeng watched the live video feed from the site, taking a deep breath. Elder Xuan stood by his side, lost in thought.

Meanwhile, on a road thirty miles from the crater, Luo Mengxuan, panting with exhaustion, watched Luo Longyu stride ahead with undiminished energy. She plopped down on a stone by the roadside, pouting. “I’m not going any farther! I’m tired!”

Luo Longyu turned at her call. “Come on, let’s just get past this stretch, then we’ll rest.”

“No! Why are you in such a hurry?” Luo Mengxuan shook her head stubbornly, baffled by Luo Longyu’s calm.

He glanced toward the remains of the town. “With such a commotion, the authorities must have noticed. If I’m right, the military’s already there. Maybe even people from the Xuan Yi Pavilion.”

“The Xuan Yi Pavilion? Isn’t that perfect? We’re out here looking for them, aren’t we? My sister works there!” Luo Mengxuan leapt up.

Luo Longyu’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Xuan Yi Pavilion, and his mind drifted back to what had happened an hour earlier…

Heaven and earth roared, thunderclouds shuddered, and a crimson whirlwind erupted from Luo Longyu, sweeping over the entire town. Sand and dust soared skyward, connecting to the storm clouds like a dragon drinking from the sky—a spectacular sight. In the superheated air, nothing survived; everything was vaporized, and the crater beneath Luo Longyu gradually took shape.

As Luo Longyu was about to recover completely, the world around him suddenly fell silent. Heaven and earth faded away. In the distance, a colossal shattered planet hung in the void, thick chains circling it like rings of fire, everything blazing red. Time seemed frozen in this moment.

Before Luo Longyu stood a shadowy figure clad in bone armor, eyes glowing with a cyan light, staring straight at him.

Recognition dawned on Luo Longyu, his expression darkening as he braced for battle. “Void Warrior? Weren’t you already dead?”

“If the Void King has not awakened, how could I be dead? Xuanyuan Corpse Dao, I’m not here to fight you to the death—only to show you certain truths.” The Void Warrior’s tone was calm, devoid of malice.

Knowing this was only an illusion, Luo Longyu relaxed his guard slightly. “What is there to say between us?”

The Void Warrior smiled. “Let’s talk about the planet you’re so willing to die for. Is it worth it?”

“It is.” Luo Longyu replied without hesitation—not out of grandeur, but simply because whatever the void spirits denied, he would affirm.

The Void Warrior’s smile lingered. “Is it really? Don’t be so quick to answer. You know, your existence is only tolerated because you’re their ultimate weapon. To the so-called sentient beings of Earth, you, your mother, your entire Xuanyuan clan, matter only because you can protect them. Otherwise, with your Corpse Dao identity, would you even be allowed to live?”

“If not for your threat, I wouldn’t have become Corpse Dao!” Luo Longyu stepped forward.

“Our threat? We, the void spirits, have known glory, abandonment, and despair. Now, we just want to return to our birthplace and cleanse the invaders from our ancestral lands. Is that a threat?” the Void Warrior asked mildly.

Luo Longyu frowned. “Ancestral lands? What do you mean?”

The Void Warrior chuckled. “With the Void King still asleep, there’s much I can’t recall, but I can tell you this: We, the void spirits, are Earth’s true original masters. You are just latecomers—invaders, nothing more.”

“Nonsense. The first era of Earth was silicon-based life. What does that have to do with you?”

“And the second era?” the Void Warrior countered.

That stumped Luo Longyu. In the Secret Realm of Prehistory, it was said the second era was the most mysterious of Earth’s five epochs—no ruins, no legends, a total historical blank. No one knew what had happened, or how life of that era vanished.

“You mean… you were the rulers of the second era?” Luo Longyu could scarcely believe it.

“What else?” The Void Warrior continued, “After drastic environmental changes, liquid water became abundant and the planet began to reject silicon-based life, which went extinct. We, the void spirits, were the first carbon-based lifeforms to appear. The third era, and you, all carry traces of our genes. The fourth era was entirely our experiment. So, whether so-called gods, devils, angels, or you—none can defeat us, because you are all our successors.”

“But unfortunately, your belligerence only intensified. The divine wars of the third era, the heresy purges of the fourth, and even your world wars—each more brutal and destructive. So you must be cleansed. You are the failures of our experiment.”

Luo Longyu burst into laughter at the words. “Are you joking? Our belligerence? You void spirits worship peace? Don’t be ridiculous. After slaughtering so many, you stand here talking peace to me?”

The Void Warrior ignored his sarcasm. “The heights of the cosmos are forever beyond your reach. You are born weak, destined to remain so. You share one trait: selfishness, driven by profit. One day, you’ll see—some things aren’t worth protecting. With your power—a perfect fusion of silicon and carbon, a supreme weapon—why confine yourself to this planet? The infinite universe awaits; the supreme realms are flourishing. Why waste yourself here when you could join us, reaching for greater worlds?”

“Get lost,” said Luo Longyu, nothing more.

The Void Warrior was taken aback, his expression darkening momentarily, but he composed himself. After a pause, he said, “Do you want to know your mother’s whereabouts?”

Luo Longyu looked up at the Void Warrior, calculating swiftly, but remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

“As I said, some things aren’t worth guarding. Head west to the Valley of the Dead. There you’ll find your mother. I hope by then, you’ll understand my words.” With that, the illusion vanished. Blazing winds rampaged, leveling everything within dozens of miles and leaving behind the massive crater…

Luo Longyu walked to Luo Mengxuan’s side, silent for a moment. “Let me ask you—do you know where the Valley of the Dead is?”

Luo Mengxuan was rubbing her ankle, but at the name her expression changed and she frowned. “Why do you ask about that place?”

Seeing her reaction, Luo Longyu was certain she knew. “Where is it?”

“Why do you want to go there?” Clearly, she was reluctant to share.

Luo Longyu’s gaze made her shiver, so she quickly said, “You have to know, that place is forbidden. And ‘Valley of the Dead’ is just what the ancient gods called it—it doesn’t go by that name anymore.”

“Just tell me where it is,” Luo Longyu said, impatience in his voice.

Luo Mengxuan stared at him, then lowered her head in thought. After a long moment, as if making a great decision, she stood up. “Come on, I’ll take you. But be mentally prepared—it's a place so eerie it’ll make your skin crawl.”

She went all out this time, taking out her secret treasure to form an array. According to Luo Mengxuan, the Valley of the Dead lay far to the west, within Tibet, near the Himalayas.

“You said the ancient gods forbade entry to the Valley of the Dead. Why?” Luo Longyu asked as she worked.

Luo Mengxuan shook her head. “I don’t know the details. But once, I overheard my grandfather talking with the dragon elders about it. Legend has it something terrifying is hidden there, watched over personally by the ancient gods. But with the passage of ages, who knows what’s become of it now?”