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Chapter 408 The Original Spirit's Mistake

In the beginning of the primordial world, there was no concept of life and death.

The great primordial spirits are free and eternal, and the first living beings on earth inherited their essence. They were ancient and simple, living in a world as chaotic as porridge.

In that most ancient time, everything was far more chaotic than in later generations. The Yinqi had not yet formed a sea, so the dust islands were difficult to connect; history had not yet been invented, and time was a still point. Life forms differed in appearance and thought, each living on dust islands isolated by the Yinqi. There was no language between races; life could only recognize those of its own kind. When different races met, they viewed each other as monsters due to their inability to understand one another.

Thus, life forms meet, fall in love, and reproduce; at the same time, they fight, kill, and hate each other. None of life dies; love and hate are intertwined in the long, long passage of time, as if it were eternity.

At that time, there was a unique life form that believed the status quo was "wrong." Because it possessed a broader perspective than most life forms, it could see almost all the dust islands. It knew that the simpler life forms had misunderstood each other, and that their animosity was merely a barrier. So it appealed, pleading with the life forms to listen to their own voices, cease their meaningless struggles, and step into a peaceful life.

Yet its voice continued to echo, but not a single race paid it any heed. For it was a star, suspended high in the invisible sky. Life could not even comprehend the voices of neighboring dust islands, let alone the distant voice of a star.

They heard, gazed, and then forgot. People came and went on earth, and the voice of the stars went unremembered. The lonely star, like a speck of dust, was buried deep in the memories of all living beings.

Only one life heard the stars' plea. But even though it heard them, it was powerless to help. For it was but a small tree, unable to move or make a sound.

An immeasurable amount of time has passed in this unchanging world. The stars' calls grow ever weaker. The lonely stars have never had friends, no one lives beside them. Their sorrow deepens with each passing day of desolation, their unanswered calls amplifying their grief. They yearn for life to respond, for life to come to their side, for communication and understanding, for the warmth of love.

Yet the strife on earth never ceased, and no one ever looked up at the sky. Finally, it fell silent in endless stillness, its spirit withered, its mind decayed, and it finally let out a desperate cry, becoming a withered, dead star.

However, the final call reached a place higher than the stars, and the primal spirits heard its voice. The giant spirit took pity on the lonely star, and He personally came to the Realm of Sinking and gave the star a piece of life.

The star, its heart broken, came back to life, filled with the joy of rebirth. Grateful for the giant's blessing, it finally gained the ability to move after being given life. It slowly moved through deep space, embarking once more on a journey to seek family and love. It sheltered the weak, created families, and selflessly shared its life. It became the beautiful moon, making all living beings its children.

However, the giant felt that the stars had changed, which puzzled him greatly. He observed carefully and was surprised to find the reason.

The star he blessed was no longer the life it once possessed. For the original solitary star had perished with its own heart. What is lost cannot be retrieved; its life force had, in effect, given the corpse new life. It possessed the same memories, similar traits, yet was ultimately no longer the life it once was.

The moon knew only this one blessing, and so it spread what it considered "love" to the world. Thus, the moon's children were reborn, always ugly in appearance and twisted in thought. Their love was both pure and murky; once they joined, they could never leave.

The giant was filled with remorse; He knew He had done something wrong. He announced to His companions that He would make amends and allow the moon to have its rightful end.

But the light stopped Him; the light is always calm and wise. He pointed out that every action of the Primal Spirit affects the world, and if the Giant Spirit causes life to disappear, all living beings will believe it is the Primal Spirit's will. Tiny lives will take pride in killing, and the world will sink in blood.

The shadow, unusually, also stood on the opposite side of the giant, and it posed a sharp question: Does every life that you deem "wrong" not have the right to live? If we can judge the course of life based on our own opinions, then when the little creatures on earth fight, should we also choose sides and help them fight?

The giant pondered deeply for a long time and concluded that this was a far greater mistake. He had no choice but to admit that he had committed an irreparable error. He would certainly try to find a way to save the world, but he could not take back the life that had already been given to him.

Thus, the primordial spirits reached a consensus: they must never again easily interfere with the lives of the living in the world. They called the passing of stars "death," something that could never be undone in the world.

From that moment on, life and death came into being in the Realm of Annihilation. Yet the undying Black Moon continues to sing, spreading its love and blessings. It is the first mistake committed by the Primal Spirits, a wound forever etched into the world.

It is the first abyss of the submerged realm, the cradle of oblivion.

·
"Come, loving moon! Hear my call and answer my voice."

Please descend upon this cruel world and bestow hope and love upon those destined to die!

The sound came from afar, surging from within the hole towards the battlefield. It passed through the carnage of the living, through the battlefield of the gods, brushed past everyone's ears, and flew to the unseen heights, to the flesh-and-blood planet in the silent depths of space.

Black Moon heard its call. Black Moon would always remember its beloved family. It smiled contentedly, opening its enormous, crescent-shaped maw.

I am coming.

It began to move, carrying a gravitational pull that affected the entire cosmic realm. Its unparalleled weight focused this gravitational pull, causing the space around the Black Moon to collapse. The power of love pierced through distant time and space, protruding from a pinhole above the battlefield. The pinhole then widened and bent, transforming into a black smile spanning the sky. The smile widened and distorted, becoming a gigantic maw that forgot the cradle.

Thick, black blood dripped from his lips, and pure white teeth opened like doors, revealing black specks of light deep within his gaping maw—the ever-approaching Cradle of Oblivion. Countless outlines emerged from his thick tongue, leaving the surface of the black moon and traversing the tunnel to reach the battlefield first.

First to appear were eight enormous Crescent Moon Chosen, as massive as mountains, and numerous gaunt Crescent Moon Strangers. The endless ranks of the Fallen Ones were lined up in battle formation, prostrate on the ground like slaves, their hands raised high, lifting their incredibly heavy "parents."

It was a bloated, sluggish, fluid-like life form, its deep yellow body surface resembling festering sores. "Hands" resembling insect antennae swayed throughout its body, and atop its back was a head shaped like a cracked egg. It dissolved into its deformed facial features, emitting a dazed, idiotic laugh.

"Here I am! He's here! My holy child, where are you? Your brother is here to help you!"

It is a fallen being known as the Holy Child of the Full Moon. However, its combat power far surpasses that of the former Spider Limb, and its aura rivals that of a god. Its true name is Karatifor, the oldest existing Holy Child, an abyssal worm that controls plagues. "Don't be so disrespectful. Pay attention to your appearance in public," a stern female voice reprimanded from behind. "Get off the children's backs and behave yourself!"

"Okay, Mom!"

The abyss worm obediently rolled over and moved to the side of the electorate's ranks. A beautiful woman stepped over its back and stood atop its head. She was dressed in a rigid style, her face covered with a black veil, and she carried a jade flute in her hand, like a heartbroken lady emerging from a funeral.

But the Abyss Worms willingly made way for her, because she was the "mother" revered by all the Fallen, the Jade Maiden who slept with her cradle, and another deity favored by the Dark Moon.

"So, the attempt to have a special love failed? It's pretty much as expected." Yu Yin Nu looked bored. "Well then, let's get started and make the moon fulfill its long-cherished wish."

"Hahaha, you're always in such a hurry. Does leaving the cradle make you so uneasy?"

The last person stepped onto the sticky, long tongue, his protruding belly protruding as he strolled along, resembling a kind old country man. His smile was friendly and benevolent; many called him Father, but most referred to him as Old Man.

He is the supreme being who forgets the cradle, he is the generous and benevolent benefactor.

Hundreds of extraordinary beings, eight chosen ones, two deities, one supreme being, and the impending source of the abyss. This is the power that the monarchy, as the "son of the gods," can mobilize, and the weight of "love" it bears!

They looked down upon the battlefield from their high vantage points, their eyes filled with sympathy and love. Yu Yin Nu was the most ruthless of these heretical warriors; beneath her veil lay only disgust.

"Why ask a question you already know the answer to? The outside world is too dangerous for me. If you consider yourself a loving father, then please clean up the mess left by your good son."

"Children have their own lives, and good elders shouldn't interfere unnecessarily," the old man said leisurely. "Let them handle it themselves!"

·
"A-Kong, your location... please reply... A-Kong..."

Vilbert's urging voices came one after another, and Chu Hengkong tapped his earpiece: "The signal is not very good, I'll hang up first."

Tell me where you are.

"I'm inside the moon's mouth," Chu Hengkong chuckled.

He turned off his communications to avoid distractions. This would anger his boss, but it was better than having unrealistic hopes.

He had fought the King's authority in the hole, which became a gaping maw connecting the Earth and the Moon, and he was, of course, inside it. The great army of the Fallen passed by them, while he was pulled by the Moon's gravity, drifting higher and higher.

Wang Quan floated in front of him, still wearing a fake smile: "Did you think I was going to unleash my full power and fight you? Too bad, my friend, you know that's not my style. I only use despicable and shameless underhanded tactics. If you're not as powerful as a god, what's the point of personal strength in a battle? Even the invincible Serpent of Sacrifice can be overwhelmed by sheer numbers."

Halfway through his sentence, Wang Quan was a little surprised because Chu Hengkong showed no anger, only stubbornly staring at it. It scratched the back of its head vigorously, somewhat bewildered: "Don't be like that, friend. After seeing so much, do you really still think there's any hope? Even if you exhaust all your strength and unleash your potential to kill me, so what? The outcome is already decided."

“I don’t believe anyone can summon the Abyss unconditionally,” Chu Hengkong said. “The Black Moon came because of your love. So if the one it loves is gone, will it still come?”

Wang Quan sighed: "Don't do this..."

Chu Hengkong scoffed, leaping up on the black water and drawing his sword to slash at Wang Quan's head. Wang Quan hung his head dejectedly, letting the divine blade strike him. His body shattered, turning into viscous black water that instantly enveloped Chu Hengkong.

"Please, don't do this."

"You were always born in the wrong place. You think this is an ideal world where miracles will happen as long as you work hard and persevere. But in reality, the Submerged Realm is a hell even worse than Earth, and all your efforts only make you get closer to the abyss faster."

Wang Quan's voice echoed in the water. Chu Hengkong struggled desperately, only to find himself sinking deeper and deeper. That handful of black water became an endless ocean, and many familiar images flashed through his mind, dragging him down into the abyss.

The face of the king appeared, yet remained blurred. A blurry figure looked down at him from the water's surface, silently shaking his head.

"That's it for now."

"Sleep in my memory until it all ends."

Suddenly he couldn't breathe; gravity pressed him into an unfathomable depth. His consciousness gradually blurred, and a face suddenly flashed before his eyes.

Deep within my darkest memories lies the face of a pale girl.

(End of this chapter)