Chapter 170: Not Dead Yet

Xi’s body grew colder, her hand that had been caressing Nuo’s cheek slowly dropping away.

Nuo clutched Xi’s cooling form, the moment frozen in time as the world seemed to fade into gray…

“Fate is fickle; life and death know no borders.”

Zuo Meng and the gray-skinned dog stood nearby, existing in a space undetectable to the outside world.

“Choices shape destinies.”

Zuo Meng’s eyes turned pure white as his gaze pierced through the pair, stretching into distant timelines. There he saw Nuo’s future, the coming unified dynasty, and the evolution of the world into the Great World. As creator, Zuo Meng had changed profoundly – most visibly in his newfound ability to weave fate itself.

The intertwined destinies of Nuo and Xi had been Zuo Meng’s experiment. He’d given them choices like branching river currents – some flowing to oceans, others vanishing into deserts – each turn deciding their endings.

“Come.”

Zuo Meng tapped the gray-skinned dog and vanished into nothingness, his companion following.

Great Wasteland Year 998: The Black Wind Tribe conquered the final You Qiong tribe, becoming the continent’s supreme power. As tribes bowed before them, the title of “top tribe” became inadequate. Elevated by tribal leaders to divine status, they transformed into the Summer Dynasty with Nuo as its Emperor.

The new Emperor distributed lands to his lords.

To satisfy his veteran warriors and fuel expansion, Emperor Nuo broke the northern Seal, leading Black Wind warriors beyond. Only then did he realize his former “powerful” tribe had been insignificant – beyond lay forbidden zone rulers, warrior-born golden ant tribes, and countless terrifying races.

His first battle in the Sealed Land was against the serpent people.

These natural assassins devastated the Summer Dynasty’s forces. Even Nuo could only stalemate their champions, racial prowess compensating for weaker cultivation. His troops retreated battered through the Seal.

But war, once started, couldn’t be ended by one side. Serpent pursuers discovered the Great Wasteland plains. Without parley, bloodshed resumed – now the Summer Dynasty fought with no retreat.

Twenty years passed.

Through relentless human sacrifice, the serpent advance finally stalled. Countless lives stained canyon soils crimson.

In the abandoned You Qiong territory – emptied by the Black Wind Lord’s mysterious decree – autumn winds moaned through ruins.

Nuo sat before a weathered hut, Xi’s former home. Though marble palaces now dominated his realm, the Emperor kept returning here. He’d exiled the You Qiong people, preserving this ghost settlement as his private shrine.

Here, memories blurred reality – the girl remained unchanged, and he was just her timid guard again.

Inside lay Xi’s preserved body, a feat achieved through desperate searching in obscure tribes.

“Princess, I’m here.”

Decades hadn’t changed his address. He never entered, fearing his battle-tainted aura might disturb her. Leaning against the doorway, the exhausted ruler slid down, face etched with decades of weariness.

The first war decade had been worst. Shouldering the serpent people’s onslaught alone, Nuo grew stronger through pressure. Humanity evolved rapidly – the weak died, the survivors matching serpent strength. Recent years saw reclaimed canyon lands and counterattacks into Sealed territories.

“If only I’d never stolen the bloodline cultivation method…”

At forty-six, Nuo resembled a septuagenarian. The method boosted power but shortened life, each battle draining vitality. His body now bore countless hidden wounds.

“No rebellion, no Black Wind Tribe… I’d still be your guard captain, following through market crowds.”

Here, he wasn’t Emperor – just Nuo, murmuring to his silent listener.

“Your end nears, but your duty remains. Death must wait.”

The voice came without warning.

“Who?!”

Nuo’s killing intent erupted, blood-reek saturating the air. None dared enter his forbidden zone – yet here stood intruders.

A man and dog materialized. Strangely, the hound made Nuo’s body tremble instinctively, as if confronting his bloodline’s origin.

“Who are you?”