Inside the Human Emperor Hall stood a burly figure. Quinn Shepherd climbed the steps to the divine hall, with the Taotie Bone Box trotting behind him. Quinn raised his hand, and the box halted outside the hall, folding up its limbs as it landed.
The box creaked open a crack. From within, Bruno the Dragon-Qilin rolled his eyes, saw the desolate graves all around, and after a moment’s thought, reluctantly crawled out. His belly pressed low to the ground as he cautiously followed Quinn, keeping his tail lowered but not touching the floor, afraid to make any noise.
Suddenly, Bruno felt something step on his tail and let out a shrill, piercing scream. All his fur and scales stood on end.
Quinn turned and glared at him. Bruno hurriedly stuffed a paw into his mouth, finally managing not to make a sound.
Looking back, Quinn saw the box sneaking along behind him—it was the box that had stepped on Bruno’s tail and scared him half to death.
Quinn winced, wanting to chase them out, but felt it inappropriate to drive these two out of such a solemn, sacred place. He could only grit his teeth and let them trail behind, muttering under his breath, “If you two cause any more trouble, one of you will be chopping wood for the fire, and the other will be up on the table for dinner!”
He came to stand behind that figure, and only then realized he was not any shorter than the other man—he was still growing, and now was just an inch shorter.
Yet the impression this figure gave him was one of immense stature—a shock to the soul, born of sheer presence and aura.
This was the First Human Emperor. Quinn had once seen his stone statue in Little Jade Capital Sect.
“You must be the thirty-sixth Human Emperor, right?”
The First Human Emperor glanced at him. He looked like a man in his thirties, with a rugged beard and a solid, reliable bearing.
"I'm the thirty-seventh."
Quinn said, "Village Chief is my master—he led me into this path. This is my first time coming here."
He looked ahead, pausing in surprise. Only then did he realize what the First Human Emperor was gazing at.
Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched before him, holding countless volumes. The Human Emperor Hall was vast, but there was none of the golden splendor or towering statues Quinn had imagined—no luxury at all, only bookshelves everywhere.
Quinn stepped forward and picked up a book. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but between the lines he sensed a familiar sword intent.
It was written by Village Chief.
This book was Village Chief’s analysis of Star Lord Jonas’s divine arts and cultivation methods. He had faced Jonas many times, and here he discussed the strengths and weaknesses of Jonas’s techniques, searching for flaws.
Quinn put down that book and picked up another. This one detailed Lord Yu’s divine arts and their pros and cons. Skimming through other books, he found most were experience notes targeting the divine arts of High Heaven gods.
Quinn also found the Sword Diagram—a thick stack of scrolls, where Village Chief had recorded every aspect of cultivating the Sword Diagram, each sword form, its operation, and its artistic conception. Clearly, it was meant for future generations.
He moved to the second bookshelf. The handwriting here was bold and vigorous, like a volcanic eruption—surely the work of Human Emperor Connor Hayes.
These books, too, described the strengths and weaknesses of High Heaven gods’ divine arts, and ways he had speculated to break them. There were also records of Connor Hayes’s own techniques.
However, Connor Hayes wrote that anyone cultivating his methods was an idiot—he never once defeated the gods of High Heaven, and following his path would only repeat his failures. The frustration was clear between the lines.
"No wonder every Human Emperor refuses to cultivate their master’s art—they stubbornly insist on forging a new path." Quinn suddenly understood the Human Emperors of Nether City.
They were all failures, unwilling for their disciples to walk the same path again. The reason they left their techniques was simply that it was their life’s work—they wanted successors, but could not bear to pass it on to their own disciples.
Perhaps that was their greatest lifelong regret.
"All the books on these shelves are plans to flatten High Heaven."
The First Human Emperor walked over, stroking the books. "They all saw High Heaven as their greatest enemy, poured their life’s work into trying to conquer it. But they all failed. You can stay here and study for a time—it will help you forge your own path."
Quinn shook his head. "Most of the gods of High Heaven are already dead, and all Four Lords of High Heaven have fallen. High Heaven is no longer our greatest threat. Aside from the Human Emperors’ own techniques, most of these books are obsolete. My goal isn’t to defeat the gods of High Heaven, nor to conquer High Heaven itself."
The First Human Emperor looked at him in surprise. "Then what is your goal?"
Quinn met the sage’s eyes and said solemnly, "My goal is to tear open this false sky, reform this unjust world, push for change, and create a new golden age—one that doesn’t belong to the Pioneer Emperor!"
His gaze was fervent, and he raised his voice: "First Ancestor, wasn’t this your goal too?"
"No."
The First Ancestor’s eyes dimmed and he shook his head. "I don’t have such lofty ideals. Time and enemies have worn me down. You’re still young, full of drive and energy. I’m just a weary old man. Sooner or later, time will wear you down too, and your enemies will grind you down. When that day comes, you’ll come to the Human Emperor Hall and, like the others, leave behind a book—writing your failure for future generations, hoping they’ll achieve what you could not."
His voice grew colder, increasingly cruel: "You’re a failure, just like them. You’ll quietly build a grass hut, sit inside it in despair, and refuse to let your successor repeat your mistakes. Still, the duty of the Human Emperor will force you to seek an heir. In that hut, you’ll shed tears of regret, resent your honored master, and carve your own tombstone—engraving your failure for all to see."
He sneered, "You’ll think yourself unworthy of a grave, unworthy to face your ancestors. Then you’ll breathe your last—just like those bones in the grass huts!"
[Irrelevant system message skipped.]
Quinn stared in disbelief, feeling the image of the wise, heroic First Human Emperor in his heart suddenly shatter.
The First Ancestor said coldly, "Do you still want to be Human Emperor? Let me tell you a cruel truth—there has never been a real Human Emperor in this world!"
His voice was utterly cold: "Back then, when I rescued all the races from the great cataclysm, I already knew I was a failure! I saved them because I was weak—I couldn’t bear to see mortals and their kind die before my eyes. But I was just a deserter!"
He laughed wildly, pointing at the countless graves in the mist outside the Human Emperor Hall. "I was a deserter on this battlefield! All I thought about while fleeing was escaping this hell! I ran away, didn’t fight with them—I escaped alone! I’ve wondered a thousand times what would’ve happened if I’d stayed. The answer is simple: I’d have ended up just like them—a corpse!"
His laughter turned manic. "Yes, they died—I survived and became the Human Emperor in people’s eyes! People honor me because I led them to a place where they could live, but so what? I only turned them into prisoners. The whole sky is fake—a giant cage, an inescapable prison. Everyone is a prisoner! I didn’t lead them to freedom, I only delivered them into the gods’ jail!"
"Human Emperor? Ha! Human Emperor! There’s no such thing!"
His anger flared, hair bristling as he stepped forward, forcing Quinn to retreat. "Drop your foolish fantasy. Let go of your burdens. You are not the Human Emperor—there never was one! The Human Emperor is just a farce, the executioner who herds mortals into the gods’ prison!"
His presence pressed down so hard Quinn could barely breathe—he had to muster all his qi to resist.
"Then why did you come back?"
Quinn’s chest was nearly crushed—he struggled for breath and shouted, "Why did you come back to raise monuments to the fallen? Why bury them? Why lay their weapons beneath their stones?"
The First Ancestor’s aura suddenly calmed. He lowered his head. "I came back to this battlefield to bury them because I feel guilty. I know I’m unworthy of the Human Emperor title—I came to atone."
Quinn asked in disbelief, "Do you truly have no hope in your heart?"
The First Ancestor’s face was expressionless. "None. Young man, let go of your fantasies. This Human Emperor farce should have ended long ago."
Quinn lowered his head for a moment, then looked up with his usual bright, boyish smile. "You failed. They failed. But I haven’t lost yet. If you won’t be Human Emperor, then I will."
The First Ancestor sneered, his expression mocking. "And what gives you that right?"
Quinn declared, "My surname is Qin. My ancestor was the Pioneer Emperor. I have the blood of the Qin clan of Carefree Haven. I am an Overlord Body. That’s why I’ll do it! Any objections?"
The First Ancestor turned, ridiculing him. "Too many titles, too much pride. So what if you have the Pioneer Emperor’s blood? Even he failed—he hasn’t appeared in twenty thousand years. So what if you’re an Overlord Body? It’s just a legend—I’ve never heard of any Overlord Body achieving anything. You’re just a reckless youth… Let me shatter your illusions!"
He swept his sleeve and suddenly attacked Quinn.
Quinn was startled and quickly blocked, but found the force of the attack surprisingly weak. He paused, confused.
Then the First Ancestor’s true power erupted—the shockwave from his divine art sent books flying off the shelves, scattering through the air.
"Don’t destroy those books!"
Quinn roared in fury and threw a punch. A great bell rang out behind him, and a giant Buddha manifested, fourteen heavenly Buddhas circling in radiant halos.
"That’s just the technique of Great Thunderclap Temple. Child’s play."
The First Ancestor broke it with a casual move, landing a punch on Quinn’s chest. "With just that, you can’t protect the books—or yourself."
Quinn was sent flying. In midair, he turned into a shadow skimming the ground, but the First Ancestor tapped the floor, jolting him out of the shadow. His qi formed a sword, thrusting at Quinn’s brow.
"With skills like that, your future leads only to death!"
The First Ancestor mocked, "You’re a failure too."
Quinn, furious, gathered his qi into a sword and pointed. Their qi swords clashed, ringing and exploding with sparks, shredding the falling books in midair.
Quinn’s eyes blazed. "Don’t destroy their life’s work!"
"Then try and stop me."
The First Ancestor chuckled. "If you can’t beat me, all you’ll leave behind is a pile of useless things!"
[Irrelevant author note skipped.]