Chapter Seventy-Six: Solving the Millennium Mystery

The stone steps were not long, but very steep. Each stair rose to half a man's height. Clinging to the weeds along the edge, Shen Wan truly crawled his way upward. Against the backdrop of the vast, dilapidated temple, he seemed insignificant. Six statues of divine beasts guarded the entrance, and Shen Wan, fearing these creatures might come to life, kept his distance, circling widely before approaching the temple doors.

The wooden pillars supporting the entrance were badly faded, yet the carvings upon them remained clearly visible. It was impossible to discern what they depicted—chaotic and indecipherable. Apart from the entrance, the entire temple was embedded deep within the mountain wall. The worn floor tiles were overgrown with wild weeds. Inside, there was no altar; the bare walls held four torches, two on each side, one broken halfway. Through the light filtering from outside, Shen Wan could vaguely make out, at the deepest point, three massive stone-carved hands standing side by side. Each hand gripped a weapon: a saber, an axe, and a bow.

It was the first time Shen Wan had ever seen a temple that offered no worship to gods, but instead to weapons. “One look and you can tell the Titan Clan were warriors,” he muttered, smacking his lips. He circled the three giant hands several times, noting the chisel marks from their carving, but nothing else could be found.

Beyond the hands lay a huge arched stone door. It was enormous—Shen Wan, craning his neck, could barely make out its shape. Whether due to years of shifting mountain rock, the two doors were misaligned, leaving a narrow gap between them. To the Titans, it was just a crack, but Shen Wan turned sideways and managed to slip through.

He patted his belly, grateful he wasn’t overweight. Inside the stone doors was a long, dark passage. The darkness unsettled him; he dared not enter, slipping back out through the gap. Unsure of what lay within, he didn’t dare venture recklessly. He searched the ruined temple thoroughly, but found nothing more.

Now Shen Wan felt at a loss. There was a path, yet he dared not use it. After much deliberation, he left the ruined temple, hoping to gain a better view from higher ground. Standing atop the temple platform—though still at the mountain’s base—it was a lofty perch by his standards. From this vantage, the floating mountains in the sky appeared clearer, no different from what he’d glimpsed through the mist.

“I wonder if they’ve made it up there,” he mused, gazing at the massive iron chains. They were utterly still, too distant to see clearly. There were seventy-two chains in all, thirty-six on each side, connecting the cliffs across the chasm.

Shen Wan looked across the abyss and was struck with awe. There, lay a wasteland—the ruins of a colossal city. Collapsed houses, broken bridges, a dark expanse stretching beyond sight.

“Holy hell!” If not for his higher vantage, he would never have seen it from the cliff’s edge, obscured by towering trees. “Could that be... the true ruins of the Titan Clan?”

He glanced at the cracked cliff below, then at the valley behind him, soaring up to the sky.

“Heaven’s annihilation…” Shen Wan murmured. Remembering the earlier exchange between the Grand Seer and the shadow in his mind, though not a single word was comprehensible, when combined with the scene before him, Shen Wan felt he had stumbled upon the truth.

Sixty-six million years ago, at the end of the Cretaceous period, the extinction event wiped out nearly ninety-five percent of all species—wasn’t that a kind of heaven’s annihilation? Was it so similar?

He swallowed hard, unwilling to dwell further on the thought, for the deeper he pondered, the more terrifying it became.

Turning again to the temple door behind him, he noted the ruins were the product of long decay, with no signs of external destruction. If so, then the temple must have been built after the catastrophe. Could the passage behind the stone door truly be the only way through the valley?

Shen Wan grew more convinced of his guess, as if he had unraveled an ancient mystery—his pride soared. Human stubbornness, he realized, was no accident; single-celled creatures were to blame. He cared little for such things, shamelessly praising his own godlike wisdom.

Since that was so, he need no longer fear this path. Why not walk it?

With renewed confidence, he straightened his back and strode resolutely back into the ruined temple. Squeezing through the stone door’s gap, darkness engulfed him once more. With no light source, he pressed onward by feel. Fortunately, the passage was wide and spacious, at least not claustrophobic.

The valley was deep, the road long—and then… two hours passed.

Over two hours, and still no end. Shen Wan’s self-doubt grew with every step. Earlier, in the canyon, there was light, wind, people talking; the journey felt short, as if he’d crossed the valley in no time. Now, alone in the darkness, time warped, isolating him from the world. Though only two hours had passed, it felt as though he’d spent days here. His spirits were battered.

He clawed at his scalp—at this rate, he’d go mad. Gritting his teeth, he shut his eyes and charged forward blindly. If he could sprint a distance, perhaps the exit would appear.

But after only two steps, a loud “crack!” echoed, and he slammed hard into a stone wall. At the start of a sprint, a person’s force is at its peak—he nearly knocked himself out cold. Agony radiated from his nose through his skull, and Shen Wan groaned, holding his breath, jaw trembling with pain.

Luckily, the cold pulse within his body bolstered his defenses, while the spring pulse worked to heal him quickly. Otherwise, Shen Wan might have been left here for good.

“Damn it!” He covered his face with both hands, nose bleeding profusely, his mind ringing, stars spinning before his eyes, his consciousness flickering in and out.

He squatted on the ground for a long while before his senses returned. “Damn it all!” He didn’t even know whom he was cursing. He lay back against the stone wall, waiting for the pain to fade before regaining his composure. His spirits no longer dulled; in fact, he felt much clearer.

He ran his hand over the wall behind him, his brows knitting in concern. “Is this a dead end?” He quickly stood and felt along the wall to the left—just a corner, no way forward. He tried the right, searching for some time with no sign of another passage.

He thought he might have found a new tunnel, his heart sinking at the prospect of another trek through the dark. Yet before the thought could fully form, his foot slipped—his whole body lifted off the ground and tumbled down.

It was a sloping stone ramp, descending diagonally, and he was utterly unprepared. His body rolled downward uncontrollably.

“Aaaaah!” His screams echoed through the passage. His recently cleared head bounced against the ground, leaving him bruised and battered.

Shen Wan cursed his luck. No wonder people in ancient times always carried fire starters—it was to avoid being as foolish as him. Once outside, he vowed to invent a lighter, and set some small goals for himself.

Fortunately, the slope wasn’t too long. After a brief tumble, his speed began to slow, and finally, he crashed into another stone wall, coming to a stop. He sat up, clutching his head in pain.

A faint light flickered before him—weak, but dazzling. Even with his head still spinning, Shen Wan’s spirits soared. He scrambled to his feet, staggering wildly toward the source of the light.

The vast tunnel was densely shrouded by bushes and weeds. The light filtered through gaps in the leaves. Pulling aside the overgrowth, a rush of fresh air struck him—this long-lost sensation was exhilarating.

Standing in the forest, Shen Wan spread his arms wide, savoring nature’s gift. It was the gift of life.

At last, he took a deep breath, satisfied, and opened his eyes. The brilliant sunlight stung his vision, but Shen Wan paid it no mind—except…

Something seemed to block the light.

Lowering his gaze, he saw—

A pair of eyes, staring fixedly at him.