Deep Sea Starship Apocalypse

The gloom of the End Land was a shackle heavier than the countless tombs piled with bones over millions of years, pressing down on the vast wilderness. Even the wind seemed to be gripped by the deathly silence, stagnant and unable to exhale a trace of lightness. The sky was perpetually shrouded in an impenetrable layer of leaden gray fog. It was not the thickness of ordinary clouds, but a colossal curtain forged from countless strands of malevolent energy and void dust, layer upon layer, airtight, devoid of any clarity. The clear blue sky of summer, reflecting the graceful silhouettes of drifting clouds, was a luxury here, an unattainable dream. Even the faintest glimmer of sunlight was completely chewed up and swallowed by this murky curtain. The world was left with only a chaotic mix of gray and black, like an old painting stripped of all life, faded to a background of despair.

The warm breezes of yesteryear, sweeping across the land in the height of summer, have vanished. The wind that blows now is a malevolent wind, carrying the ferocity of withered mountain sand. When it touches the skin, it is initially a scalding, burning pain, like countless fine blades repeatedly scraping against it. As the sand embeds itself into the skin's texture, it suddenly seeps in with the chilling stench of decaying bones. The eerie sensation of hot and cold intertwines suffocates the chest, making even breathing carry the scent of sand and putridity. The wind howls in the ears, swirling yellow dust, not the gentle whisper of a summer evening breeze, but the roar of a dying beast—rough, violent. Each pass brings a deep despair to the heart, a suffocating feeling that seems endless and intangible, as if even the soul is being enveloped by this wind, slowly sinking into boundless darkness.

The world was a tapestry of gray and yellow, devoid of any verdant greenery or vibrant life. Only a few withered old trees stood forlornly on the vast, boundless wasteland. Their roots had long been corroded by evil spirits, half buried in the mud eroded by black rain, the other half exposed in the yellow sand. Their gnarled, cracked branches, like withered bones stripped of flesh, twisted and reached towards the dark sky. The bark was cracked like withered bones, with thick yellow sand and dark humus embedded in the cracks. The branches were bare, without a single green leaf. Even the dry bark was peeling off in the wind and sand, leaving only withered black wood teetering on the verge of collapse, like the thin, outstretched hand of a dying person, futilely grasping at this despairing world. It was deathly silent and desolate. When the wind blew, the withered branches collided and made a soft "crack" sound, like the last groan of a dying person, or the silent sob of this desolate place.

The black rain subsided, and the blizzard softened somewhat, but the murky yellow dust continued to churn, like an endless, turbid wave, blurring the surrounding landscape with a hazy, desolate hue. The tremors emanating from the distant, withered mountain and grotesque corpses still subtly spread across the earth. These were no ordinary tremors; they carried a malevolent power transmitted through bone, penetrating the corroded black rock beneath their feet, seeping into their meridians, and causing their stellar energy to surge slightly. That chilling, violent aura, accompanied by a scorching wind and the deathly stillness of withered trees, heavily enveloped Yu Moyan and Jiang Duyue, pressing down on them with a suffocating despair, as if they would be completely assimilated by this world at any moment, becoming part of the withered bones and malevolent forces.

On the desolate plain, a few black crows perched among the bare branches of several withered old trees. Their feathers had long been stained gray by the yellow sand and malevolent energy; their once bright beaks and claws were now dry and cracked. Most eerily, the bare white bones of some crows were exposed on their chests and abdomens, some with their internal organs having already fallen from their ruptured cavities, sticking to the withered branches, black and foul-smelling. Yet they seemed oblivious, still tilting their heads, their cloudy eyes darting around, occasionally emitting a hoarse "caw-caw-caw." The cries were low, hoarse, rough, and piercing, carrying the desolation and sorrow of the apocalypse, unlike the clear and lively calls of ordinary birds; they were more like desperate howls squeezed from the depths of their throats, swirling and echoing in the deadly desert.

Crows are ordinary creatures, but in this desolate land, they have long since become anomalies corrupted by evil. Unaware that they are already dead, they wander among the withered trees driven only by instinct, knowing only that the natural disasters of swirling yellow sand and raging black rain and blizzards are coming, and they cry out desperately. In this desolate place, they are seen as ominous, as the culprits bringing calamity. No one understands their mournful cries, no one knows they are merely walking corpses controlled by evil; all that is known is that their cries add to the eeriness and despair of this hopeless world, as if silently warning humanity—disaster is imminent, yet no one dares to listen, no one dares to believe.

Yu Moyan stood rooted to the spot. The golden light of the Imperial Dragon Scale Armor, imbued with the power of the Emperor, appeared exceptionally weak against the gray-yellow sky and earth, yet it still stubbornly radiated imperial might, barely deflecting the evil winds blowing around him. He looked up at the rolling yellow sand in the distance, his gaze piercing through layers of murky fog, seeing only a blurry gray-yellow outline, with no end in sight, no hope in sight. He silently hoped that this hot wind, carrying turbid air and sand, would end soon, hoping to break free from the shackles of this natural disaster, but the chaotic scene before him told him that this was nothing but wishful thinking.

He slowly closed his eyes, softly calling the system's name in his mind, his tone carrying a vulnerability he himself didn't realize: "Yueheng... are we going to die...?"

As soon as the words were spoken, the venomous roars and mournful cries emanating from the direction of the illusory corpse of the withered mountain swept in once more. The roars were no longer the simple sounds of breaking free from the cocoon, but were mixed with endless resentment and pain, like the accusations of an evil creature imprisoned for billions of years, or the wails of a dying person. Waves of sound crashed against the star crown barrier, creating ripples. Yu Moyan and Jiang Duyue's hearts sank simultaneously. The starlight on Jiang Duyue's Celestial Armor dimmed slightly. He clenched his fists, a metallic taste rising in his throat, but he forced himself not to spit it out.

Yu Moyan's hands, hanging slightly at his sides, tightened slightly. A hint of despair flashed in his emerald eyes. He knew clearly that they were facing an existence that even the system couldn't contend with. He grabbed Jiang Duyue's wrist and slowly moved his feet back the way they had come, each step incredibly heavy, as if treading on a thousand pounds of sand. He knew they were utterly powerless against the ultimate evil hatched from the blood cocoon; their struggles were futile. Only by temporarily retreating could they have a sliver of hope.

The cawing of crows continued incessantly in his ears. In the seemingly silent desert, the rolling yellow sand added an eerie clamor to the scene, as if playing a mournful symphony for their escape. Yu Moyan felt extremely agitated. Each cawing was like a fine needle piercing his mind, making him dizzy and even his breathing more labored.

System Lin Yueheng sat atop Yu Moyan's shoulder armor, her pink miniskirt swaying slightly in the evil wind. Her usually mischievous and arrogant pink eyes were now filled with silence and reluctance. She opened her small mouth, her pink lips moved slightly, but ultimately she simply pursed them, saying nothing. She could feel the terror of the evil creature within the blood cocoon, could feel the malevolent power that surpassed all realms, yet she was powerless—this was the calamity of the End Land, the ultimate evil creature born from this desolate place, a Heavenly Dao rule that even her Star Crown power could not easily interfere with. Although her Star Crown power could temporarily shield her from natural disasters and guide her, it could not shake the destiny of the blood cocoon's hatching, nor could it directly confront the ultimate evil creature about to be born. This powerlessness weighed on her heart like a boulder, leaving her without even the courage to offer comfort.

The vibrant blue light that once represented life in Yu Moyan's azure eyes had long since faded, replaced by deep sorrow, weariness, and numbness. His eyes were like stagnant pools, devoid of vitality. Even the reflection of the gray-yellow mist in his eyes conveyed utter despair, as if his very soul had been drained of all life, leaving only a numb shell. He could sense Lin Yueheng's silence, and read the helplessness in her eyes, but he felt no blame, only a profound sense of powerlessness.

He didn't know how much time had passed—was it an hour, or two? Yu Moyan had long lost the concept of time. His eyes remained lifeless, reflecting the lifeless ruins before him—withered trees, yellow sand, a gray-yellow sky, and the faint, distant glow of blood-red cocoons. He slowly raised his head, a faint glimmer of determination flashing in his azure eyes, the only glimmer of light in his desperate situation, the last gasp before his death.

His voice was hoarse and deep, carrying the stinging pain of wind and sand whistling through his throat, yet each word was clear, slowly echoing in my mind, as if proclaiming a determination to break the deadlock: "Lingyao Chen Palace, the inheritance is revealed, a mustard seed contains Mount Sumeru, the main hall is unsealed."

The moment the words fell, the previously closed doors of the Chenjin Palace behind him suddenly shone with a dazzling golden light. The light was both intense and gentle, completely out of place with the surrounding gray and desolate environment. It was like a blazing sun rising in this deathly wasteland, dispelling some of the evil and gloom. The imperial runes on the palace doors lit up, the golden patterns flowing and emitting a soft hum. The profound power of containing Sumeru within a mustard seed slowly emanated, and the outline of the entire inheritance hall became increasingly clear in the golden light, like an ancient sacred land awakening from its slumber.

Without the slightest hesitation, Yu Moyan took Jiang Duyue's hand and walked straight towards the golden palace gate. His steps were still heavy, but with a touch more determination. The power of the star crown around him circulated slightly, protecting the two of them as they passed through the swirling yellow sand and landed on the steps in front of the palace gate.

The intelligent life form guarding the palace gate was the spirit of the main hall, dressed in an ancient, dark robe. Its face was indistinct, yet it exuded an ancient and majestic aura. It gazed deeply at Yu Moyan and Jiang Duyue, a complex emotion flashing in its pupil-less eyes—a mixture of regret, helplessness, and expectation. It opened its mouth, as if wanting to say something, to remind them of something, but ultimately only shook its head slightly, swallowing the words that were on the tip of its tongue. It simply stepped aside, making way for a passage into the hall.

Yu Moyan and Jiang Duyue didn't linger, walking straight into the Inheritance Hall. The warm and peaceful atmosphere inside contrasted sharply with the chaotic and malevolent aura outside. The gentle imperial light enveloped them, instantly soothing their fatigue and injuries, even easing the stinging pain in their spiritual seas. Yet, Yu Moyan's eyes still held weariness and numbness, and Jiang Duyue's brows were tightly furrowed. Neither of them spoke, simply walking towards the secluded cultivation chamber deep within the hall. Each step was exceptionally steady, as if carrying a tremendous burden, or as if taking their first step into an unknown inheritance, facing a desperate situation.

The crows outside the hall continued to caw on the withered trees, the gray-yellow sand continued to churn, and the howls of the evil creature within the blood cocoon grew ever clearer. The calamity of the Land of Doom had only just begun. The golden light within the Hall of Inheritance, like a glimmer of light in the darkness, illuminated the thorns on their path—the path of inheritance was always paved with blood and tears; only by breaking through the impasse could they find a glimmer of hope in the Land of Doom.