Chapter 689 - 79: Star Realm

Chapter 689: Chapter 79: Star Realm

A crimson meteor streaked across the night sky.

It flew over wastelands, over rivers, over hills slumbering under the moonlight.

Wind howled against the cocoon’s walls.

The clouds were torn open, revealing a long gash of the deep, star-studded sky behind them.

Before long, the cocoon began to slow.

It descended slowly.

This was a stretch of flat ground.

Unlike the graveyard at the bottom of the cliffs by Eira Village, there were no crooked tombstones, no withered yellow grass.

The ground was level, as if meticulously cared for.

The lawn was neatly trimmed, its blades glistening with dew under the moonlight.

A dozen or so short trees with lush foliage were scattered about.

The chirping of insects rose and fell from the grass.

It wasn’t noisy; instead, it added to the tranquility.

If not for the tombstones, this place would have seemed more like a park.

The tombstones were not tall.

Each was roughly the same size, arranged in neat rows like a troop of silent soldiers.

They were made of a grayish-blue stone, their surfaces polished smooth, reflecting a cold gleam in the moonlight.

Engraved on them were names, along with dates of birth and death.

Murphy’s cocoon was massive.

So large it blotted out half the sky.

Yet, as it landed, it made no sound at all.

When the enormous cocoon wall touched the ground, the blades of grass merely bent slightly.

The insects’ chirping didn’t stop or even change its tune—as if this behemoth that had fallen from the sky was nothing more than a passing breeze.

Then, music began to play.

It came from the Dark Gold dragon coiled within the cocoon.

The sound was soft.

As soft as moonlight landing on a blade of grass.

Like the wind blowing through a wheat field, the ears of grain brushing against one another.

Like the lingering echo of a bell struck at night in a remote mountain temple.

The sound seeped through the cocoon’s walls, flowing under the moonlight.

It washed over the lawn, over the tombstones, over the earth that had lain dormant for three thousand years.

And it awoke a single person in the deepest, most central part of the graveyard.

In the very center of the flat ground stood a tombstone.

It was larger and taller than all the others around it.

The earth beneath the tombstone stirred.

A hand reached out from the grave.

The fingers were long and slender, the knuckles prominent.

The fingernails were gone, leaving only the ghastly white tips of bone.

It thrust out from the dirt, fingers splayed toward the sky—as if trying to grasp the moon.

Then another hand.

Then shoulders, a skull, a chest.

He climbed out of the earth, like a seed that had been buried for too long and finally burst forth at the coming of the spring rain.

He looked exactly as Saladin had when he first climbed from the dirt—withered, ancient, his flesh hanging loosely on his skeleton like a well-worn garment.

He knelt before the tombstone, hands pressed to the ground, gasping for breath.

Three thousand years of slumber had made his lungs forget how to breathe.

Air flooded his throat, making a hoarse sound like a bellow being worked.

He coughed a few times.

Then he slowly raised his head.

He saw the cocoon.

Vast, crimson, and translucent.

Light flowed within its walls—like blood in veins, like water in a river, like stardust in a nebula.

Through the thin membrane, he saw the countless humanoid silhouettes inside.

Elders, children, women, Warriors.

And a Dark Gold dragon.

His eyes shot wide open.

As if he wanted to say something.

"Sedri?"

Saladin’s voice, tinged with incredulous surprise, echoed from within the cocoon. "You’re still alive?"

Sedri froze.

He remained kneeling, his withered body leaning forward slightly, his cloudy eyes locked on the cocoon—on the blurry yet incredibly familiar figure visible through its wall.

"If you can be alive, why can’t I?"

He rose to his feet.

"This cocoon, this dragon, these people, and you—what in the world is going on?"

Saladin laughed.

The wrinkles on his shriveled face bunched together.

"You’ll understand in a moment. You will understand the Master’s will."

SWOOSH—

A ray of crimson light shot out from the cocoon.

It erupted from Murphy, the Dark Gold dragon, moving so fast that even the moonlight couldn’t keep up.

Sedri instinctively took a step back.

It was a combat instinct forged on the battlefield three thousand years ago, an instinct etched into his very bloodline.

But he was too slow.

So slow it was laughable, even to himself.

And the light was so fast that he couldn’t have dodged it even in his prime.

The light struck him between the eyebrows.

His eyes shot wide open.

Within his murky eyes, the dim light began to flicker violently—like a dying star suddenly bursting back into flame.

The light swirled, surged, and coalesced in his pupils, finally transforming into a kind of clarity.

His body trembled as he looked at the Dark Gold dragon coiled inside the cocoon.

His expression finally settled into one of reverence.

"So... this is the Master’s will."

Saladin smiled. "That’s right. It is the Master’s will."

Sedri was silent for a moment.

"Then... can my descendants in this graveyard be revived?"

Saladin’s smile faded somewhat.

A complicated expression crossed his face. "That’s impossible. Your descendants’ selves have been eroded by their bloodline. They’re already dead, in truth; they are no longer themselves. Not like us, who retained our sense of self. They are alive—but only their flesh is alive. Their consciousness has long since vanished."

Sedri sighed.

"I know, but I still can’t accept it."

Silence.

The chirping of insects rose and fell from the grass.

Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, landing on Sedri’s withered shoulders.

Murphy spoke.

"There is nothing to feel bitter about. Powerful Cultivation is the best way to remedy all regrets. Not only those concerning your descendants, but even the regrets of the past three thousand years—all can be remedied."