I am a living immortal.

Chapter 532: Demon Race, Degeneration and Return to Ancestors

Therefore, the younger generation couldn't grow to this level. They'd only grown up for a few hundred years, so how could they possibly sustain this mentally strained state for a hundred years? That's right, a hundred years. Among so many people, not even one could sustain a dojo for a hundred years. How could the elders, then, rest assured?

No matter how hard or exhausting it was, they had to bear the shackles for a few more years, just a few more days. Many of those who survived that battle understood this, and so they were eager to train successors. It might not be fair, but how could there be such a thing as fairness in this world? Who didn't grit their teeth and persevere?

They say there's a thousand-year deadline, but how is that calculated? It requires consuming every last drop of humanity's blood and essence, the maximum duration everyone can endure in this furnace known as the Dojo. The older generation has prepared for death. So, they seize this brief millennium to strive and grow. This is the final millennium, humanity's limit. And that's assuming nothing unexpected happens. If anything unexpected happens, the millennium will likely be cut in half.

Is there much time left for the human race? Absolutely not. They are powerless to correct or force their fate. Those corrupted by comfort will be the first to be devoured by it. Everyone's fate is the same. When the walls of the Dojo crumble, true despair will reign. No one can escape. And in this despair, some will rise from the ashes, while others will perish prostrate. Fate is always fair.

Even the gods and ghosts above couldn't bear to interrupt the old friend's smile, as this hope was crucial. When the old man had finished laughing, he felt much more relaxed. He looked at his old friend and said, "I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. It feels pretty good."

A sage monarch has things to do, so naturally he won't slack off. He hadn't had any hope before, but now it's time to adapt.

"Think about it carefully, this is not an easy task," said the ghost.

"I've decided it's time to move my old bones."

"Then do it." He believed his old friend could do it, or even do it better...

.........

The Holy Lord who was leaving the dojo also felt the old man's prayer and chuckled: "Don't worry, I have received your prayer."

Then he continued walking towards the chaotic world. The world at this moment was still full of vitality, not as desolate as he had imagined. But behind this vitality was wild growth, and the breath of barbarism was overwhelming. Civilization had long since left them.

If that were the case, the world would be six or seven hundred years in the future. The war had completely altered the world's landscape, and everything here felt completely unfamiliar to him. The world inside and outside the dojo were truly two completely different worlds.

The Sage Monarch walked through this savage world. Monsters fought one another, returning to the primitive law of the jungle. And the innate gods, looking down from above, treated the world like a gladiatorial arena, laughing and watching the struggles of all things. The monsters who had taken refuge with the innate gods were no better off.

Six or seven hundred years of brutal fighting had even made these demons forget their past. Transformation was once a display of strength, but now it was a matter of who had the largest body, whose claws could more rip through flesh. From demons, they had reverted to beasts, and now they were stronger beasts.

The Saint Monarch traveled three thousand miles and witnessed three thousand miles of fighting. The innate gods were no fools, completely destroying civilization to prevent the return of the myriad races.

He had been walking in the wilderness, looking out of place. But he ignored it, he wanted to ignite a cluster of sparks, a cluster of absolutely dazzling sparks.

The Sage King always had his own goals. It wasn't that he hadn't encountered humans along the way; he had seen plenty. But he didn't act, because humans are incredibly adaptable. Though barely surviving, they were truly alive. What they needed now wasn't sudden salvation, but recognition, a glimmer of light they wanted to follow.

When this light, this flame, is lit, others will naturally draw closer. They will follow that person, and more and more people will become aware of this flame. The spark of hope, even if they have never met, can still drive them to action through a few words from afar. This is hope.

.........

Surabaya.

This place is where four great rivers converge. Water is the source of life, and humanity has always lived by the water. However, this isn't limited to humans; many wild beasts and demonic beasts share this habit. Logically, in such a place, under such conditions, human survival is impossible. After all, even wild beasts can kill, let alone the massive demonic beasts. The Saint Lord witnessed this upon his arrival: a single demonic beast could easily destroy an entire town.

In this region, miraculously, a city existed—Sishui. Simple and crude, it was ancient and solemn, with walls stretching dozens of feet high encircling the center. Hundreds of figures, large and small, hovered above these walls, each holding a massive brush, dipped in blood-red paint.

A young man wielded a brush of equal height, freely scrawling across the city wall. Each stroke flowed gracefully, creating a strange seal script from a distance. Hundreds of others followed suit, the only difference being that each one was unique. Each seal script lit up instantly the moment it was completed.

"Hurry up, he's coming!!!" the young man shouted to his companions, one after another. The red seal characters quickly lit up. The young man looked off into the distance and saw a massive beast charging towards the city wall with its head lowered.

The young man didn't panic; such things happened almost every day. At first glance, the walls that stretched for hundreds of miles around the city were almost entirely covered in dark red talismans. With a thud, the ferocious beast collided with a layer of light, and the seal characters he had previously drawn became even brighter. The beast roared at the young man unwillingly, its massive body repeatedly impacting, but only causing a few ripples on the surface.

The young man raised his middle finger at the monster.

These seal characters are also the reason why this city can survive in a place like Sishui where monsters are rampant. The blood-red pigment is actually not difficult to find; it is made by mixing cinnabar with monster blood. Precisely because monsters are rampant, they have no shortage of this kind of pigment. The only problem is that these pigments need to be repainted on the city walls in real time. The spiritual energy in the monster blood will slowly drain away before the seal characters are completely dry.

This is the kind of work they do. There are tens of thousands of people like them. These hundreds of miles of city walls need to be painted every week.