Evil Venerable of the Sword Dao

Chapter 1590 - 110: Holy Spirit Era_2

All things started to end and begin to change after that.

Yet, despite the unwillingness, everything sank into time, into darkness.

Space also fell into darkness.

Or, one might say, everything of the Holy Spirit and life fell into darkness.

Nothing remained but darkness.

Zhou Yan also lost everything in such darkness, walking alone in the endless void, without end, without boundary.

Until one day, a beam of light appeared on the horizon, like a Void Thunder Tribulation.

A Fist Intent suddenly attracted the Heavenly Tribulation, bringing it upon his body.

In the Void Thunder Tribulation, due to the Fist Intent shattering the void, he suffered strong backlash.

Thus, with this beam of light, a strand of Zhou Yan’s will suddenly slipped into the endless spatial rift.

Afterward, in a realm of unknown darkness, Zhou Yan sensed his extremely stiff body.

In the air, wafted a moist, mildew-like unique scent.

Within this scent, Zhou Yan truly felt an indescribable sensation.

It seemed to be the red dust scent after he had experienced many cycles of earthly life.

Red dust scent—a memory so distant, a recollection so far away.

Zhou Yan pondered inwardly, but gradually could barely bear the mildewy, suffocating scent in the void; he found himself extremely weak.

Not only could he not sense any Holy Spirit, but even his own soul seemed unreachable.

His soul power remained virtually nonexistent, dissipated in the endless darkness, but the leftover strand of soul energy merged into this unknown flesh body and began to restore a little vitality.

Then, with some regained strength, Zhou Yan began to touch his surroundings with difficulty.

The result of his touch revealed to him: he was lying within a coffin.

A smooth and icy coffin, reminding him of the Emperor Burial Crystal Coffin.

Struggling, he let out a breath, using a unique method to resonate with his soul, arduously bringing forth a strand of soul energy which scattered out.

"Buzz—"

The ground suddenly shook like a ninth-level earthquake, and then, the crystal coffin revealed its decayed and mottled traces. Many spots were still covered with yellow earth.

However, through the transparent crystal coffin and the dazzling sunlight, Zhou Yan saw his reflection.

Aging, like a human skin.

But within this human skin, there was a skull.

With a simple body.

All the flesh and blood had grown anew, condensed from the life energy of soul energy.

Apart from this, he possessed nothing.

Zhou Yan sat up dazedly, then pushed open the Emperor Burial Crystal Coffin. It shrank gradually in his sight, turning into an invisible crystal ring that fell between his eyebrows, disappearing from view.

And the ground remained mottled, decayed.

Before his eyes, mountains of white bones stretched endlessly.

Everywhere lay decaying tombs.

This solitary grave of his looked extraordinarily common and simple.

On it, several ancient, powerful engraved words could be faintly seen—Tomb of Zhou Yan.

Upon seeing this, Zhou Yan laughed, but tears flowed freely with age.

He didn’t know whether it was right to laugh or not.

How many years had passed?

A hundred thousand years? Or a million?

Is this world a new one? Or a world from the past?

Zhou Yan didn’t know.

Because, at the last moment, what he saw was truly terrifying!

Before that, he would never have believed he’d see such a scene in his lifetime.

Yet he saw it vividly, and that scene came to life.

Nothing was more real, more striking to his body and mind than that scene.

So much so that his emotional obsession, his self, and his skull merged due to that same thought, and were devoured into the depths of endless evil spirits.

As for why he would resurrect...

Or why, after a hundred thousand years or even a million years, he would crawl out from the grave...

Zhou Yan thought of the person facing the endless Void Thunder Tribulation, practicing fists.

Who was that person badly injured by the Void Thunder Tribulation, who fought for a chance at life? The answer was obvious.

Zhou Yan sat by his own grave, looking as desolate as a skeleton, with only his head still bearing a human shape, not too horrific; yet his body, dried as human skin, was somewhat neither human nor ghost.

This way, Zhou Yan cared little—he just sat quietly here, quietly feeling the glaring and fierce sunlight of heaven and earth.

But at this moment, a sound of sword light came from the void, followed by the sounds of fighting, drawing nearer.

Zhou Yan didn’t want to look, but his soul, even as weak as dust, was still enough to defy heaven.

Even though such soul power was virtually incapable of manifestation, his gaze, his will, were sufficient to kill invisibly.

In the Holy Spirit’s eyes, all lives were mere ants.

Sword lights approached, and then several women in colorful dresses arrived, pursued by three black-robed men.

Those women in colorful skirts were all horrified, stepping back several steps upon seeing Zhou Yan’s appearance, expressions full of confusion and uncertainty.

"Zhao Xuexun, I advise you not to escape. You know the consequences of opposing our Saint Heir? Even though your Bishui Sword Sect has ancient inheritance, it is now about to crumble!"

"But the Saint Heir favors you; that is your fortune!"

Another black-robed man stepped forth, carrying a large sword on his back, his cultivation seeming very unimpressive to Zhou Yan.

Yet these realms exist, a complexity somewhat beyond Zhou Yan’s understanding.

Not like some Sword Soul realms, these realms seemed quite intricate.

The principle of cultivation was evidently deeper.

But it’s certain: these were ordinary people.

"Girl, what world is this? What year is it now?"

Zhou Yan suddenly asked the leading girl, Zhao Xuexun.

A girl in a light red gauze dress, seemingly only eighteen or nineteen years old, but quite charming, with decent looks.

Zhou Yan’s voice was hoarse and unpleasant, like that of an evil ghost.

This voice startled the black-robed men momentarily, instinctively retreating a few steps.

Yet the girl in the light red gauze dress was slightly fearful, but plucked up courage, tremulously answering, "S-Senior, this is the Holy Spirit Continent, Holy Spirit World. This place is the Ten Thousand Ghosts Sword Tomb, and now it is precisely the 134,000th year of the Holy Spirit Era."

The red-clothed girl answered obediently, yet her eyes occasionally glanced at Zhou Yan, fearing he would suddenly unleash a frightening move or an immensely evil means.

After all, compared to the black-robed men behind her, they seemed to fear Zhou Yan more.

"Holy Spirit Continent? Holy Spirit World? Holy Spirit Era?"

Zhou Yan’s heart shivered, then asked again, "Which Holy Spirit?"

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