Chapter 241: The Little Girl

The game “Star Sea” had a time difference with the real world of nearly 1:4, meaning someone who could live a hundred years in reality might survive four hundred years within “Star Sea.” No one had ever offered a scientific explanation for this phenomenon. Instead, the real world had undergone increasing changes under the game’s influence.

The original technological development path was disrupted by newly emerged extraordinary powers. Civilization veered onto a different trajectory, as if nudged by an invisible hand. This shift brought drastic consequences. The most obvious sign was the appearance of game items in the real world, while real-world products were replicated within “Star Sea.”

Reality and the game were merging.

On a high-tier civilization planet several Star Regions away from Emperor Star, any Player arriving would find every inhabitant’s level labeled as “???”. This place was the core of “Star Sea”—the legendary Immortal Star.

At that moment, atop the highest cloud-peak of Immortal Star:

“Still no trace?”

The Immortal King—Thunder King—loomed on his divine seat, servants prostrated below. This Star Region had only one ruler: Thunder King.

None knew his true strength, origin, or how he gained such power. Legends claimed he once crushed an entire Star Region bare-handed. That battle cemented his immortal reputation and revealed a realm beyond Realm Masters—the Immortal level.

“We’ve captured 31,723 suspects, among whom—”

“Enough. Find the last outer demon. You have one hundred years. No extensions.”

Thunder King cut off the report.

Eradicating invading outer demons was a mandate from the Supreme One. Initially, they’d assumed it involved eliminating foreign foes—a routine task. As predicted, reborn outer demons stood out rapidly, wielding unnatural strength to challenge authority.

All followed the same pattern.

Though powerful, outer demons couldn’t withstand coordinated immortals. The Supreme One’s decree ensured only one outer demon existed per era, simplifying their strategy: overwhelm through numbers. Previous outer demons fell swiftly, their heads displayed as trophies.

This served to provoke.

Weren’t outer demons bound as fellow disciples? Seeing comrades’ remains mocked, how could they resist vengeance—especially after gaining power? The tactic worked flawlessly… until the last target.

This final outer demon, inheritor of some coward, had hidden impeccably. Despite the immortals’ sprawling networks, no clues surfaced. Were it not for the Supreme One’s confirmation, they’d doubt its existence.

“But—”

The servant trembled, forehead pressed to the floor.

The universe’s vastness made locating a featureless entity impossible—a task beyond futility.

“Outer demons rise unnaturally fast, growing stronger like breathing. Follow their traces—they *will* be found.”

Thunder King closed his eyes.

An unseen force expelled the servants, sealing the Immortal Temple. Exchanging weary glances, the group departed.

Alone in the hall, Thunder King murmured, “No updates… What force could delay my teacher? The outer demons’ backer?” He gazed into the cosmic void, awe flickering in his eyes.

None understood the teacher’s terror better than him.

True invincibility.

To that being, the universe was a toy. What power could hinder such existence?

Meanwhile, Ye Chen returned to the cemetery after his task.

Hiding here had become habit.

Eight years passed. The odd old man who once haunted the chapel had died—buried by Ye Chen himself. Now alone, he remained unnoticed by locals, who vaguely recalled the cemetery’s caretaker as a reclusive figure. Details like age or appearance didn’t matter.

That day, Ye Chen lazed among graves as usual.

Strangers entered carrying a coffin. Their leader paused upon seeing him.

“Who’s this?”

“The Divine Tomb’s gravekeeper. Appointed by the royal family.”

Emperor Star Region’s elite called this place Divine Tomb, reserving it for their “gods.” Ye Chen learned this years ago from the old man before his death. To him, it was merely a hiding spot—safe and quiet.

The leader—a young man—recalled elders’ warnings and stayed silent.

The burial concluded hastily. Ye Chen ignored them, feigning sleep.

By dusk, a timid voice woke him.

“Are… you the church priest?”

A grimy blonde girl stared up, sky-blue eyes wide.

“Not a playground.”

Ye Chen turned away.

“Mom said Grandpa sleeps here. Where is he? I need to call him for dinner.”

Understanding dawned. Her grandfather was the day’s burial.

Her hopeful gaze unearthed buried memories—a figure shielding him from storms, standing firm until death.

Irritation surged.

“Don’t know.”