Chapter 947: The Last Farewell

The cauldron lid opened, revealing a small world within.

A mist of blood, accompanied by a rich life energy, churned and rapidly overflowed. It carried a faint scent of gore and an intermittent aura of cold stillness.

Chu Feng froze on the spot. The vibrant life energy he sensed was absorbed by the Ancestral Demon Cauldron from the Nirvana Land, not emitted by the blood mist itself.

In an instant, Chu Feng felt a chill run through him from head to toe. He couldn't sense the familiar aura of his loved ones, no trace of their presence, no glimmer of their soul-lights.

His ears buzzed, his vision blurred, and golden stars swam before his eyes. Blood silently seeped from the corner of his mouth, and he stumbled, nearly collapsing to the ground.

Chu Feng felt as if he'd been struck by lightning, his heart aching to the extreme. He couldn't breathe, feeling on the verge of suffocating. He heard nothing, and his vision was plunged into darkness. Powerlessly, he clutched the great cauldron, his body trembling.

A glimmer of hope he once held had now transformed into utter despair.

He had always been anxious, plagued by a strong sense of unease, but when the cauldron lid was lifted and the cruel truth revealed, he still found it unbearable.

He heard nothing; his ears were deaf. His eyes were blurred, unable to see anything. There was only pain in his heart, and he felt as though he was sealed in an isolated, dark space.

Chu Feng's Adam's apple moved, but only hoarse sounds emerged.

He wanted to cry but couldn't; there were no tears, only pain. His soul felt suffocated, his soul-light dim, sinking into endless blackness.

He couldn't break free, feeling only boundless suffering, walking alone in a sea of despair. A black space, a deep bitter sea, without end. He felt as though he was on the verge of death.

“Live, I only wish for you to live!”

His voice was hoarse, his body shaking, overwhelmed by helplessness and despair. He was completely unlike his former self.

He had never been so weak, like a child. No one would have recognized him as the notorious Demon Chu. His legs could no longer support his body, and he was about to collapse.

His physical body could not bear his soul-light, which flickered violently. Blood flowed from his nose, mouth, and ears, and then two lines of blood also slid from his vacant eyes.

Chu Feng wanted to cry but couldn't, like a wounded beast trapped in a place of despair. He couldn't perceive anything outside, truly sealed within darkness.

He unconsciously leaned against the great cauldron, his soul seemingly lost, unable to find its way home. Hoarse sounds escaped his lips, neither crying nor laughing, but merely a painful, guttural cry.

It was an immeasurable time before Chu Feng could breathe again, breaking free from the darkness. He gasped for air, covered in cold sweat, his clothes drenched.

Inside the great cauldron, there was only blood mist. No living beings. Neither his parents nor Yellow Ox and the others had survived; all were gone.

The Ancestral Demon Cauldron remained silent, offering no words.

How could this be? Even with his worst fears, its actual occurrence still twisted his heart like a knife, making him feel so distraught he might faint.

“Dad, Mom, Yellow Ox…”

Chu Feng called out their names, and tears finally streamed down his face as his body's functions seemed to return. He wanted to sob, to wail. Everyone was gone.

“Where are their soul-lights? Their true spirits?!” He desperately searched, looking through the cauldron and the blood mist, but saw nothing.

Like a wounded beast that had lost everything, trapped on its own isolated island, Chu Feng howled. The sound was deafening, his heart filled with an overwhelming sorrow he couldn't control.

He knelt on one knee, wishing he were just an ordinary person, living a peaceful and unremarkable life with everyone.

Now, nothing remained but himself. The faces of his parents, their warm words, their caring gazes, and the voices and smiles of the others — all resurfaced, as if it were only yesterday.

A long time later, Chu Feng staggered away from Dragon Nest, then plunged into the East Sea. He lay motionless in the cold water, drifting with the currents, unconsciously moving further away.

During this time, a sea beast swam over, its maw agape, but then it recoiled in fright and swam away, creating large waves.

Chu Feng remained still, eyes closed, wishing to sleep forever and never wake. He once again isolated himself in his inner world, his thoughts consumed by those he had lost.

Much later, a spiritual mountain on the seabed shook violently, a sign of its intense resurgence. Like an erupting volcano, a large wave of spiritual energy surged forth, impacting Chu Feng, who had drifted there.

He opened his eyes, dull and lifeless, but eventually stood up. Despondent and utterly alone, he slowly made his way back towards Dragon Nest, consumed by an immense sense of loneliness and desolation.

His heart carried wounds and sorrow, yet he couldn't cry. He walked in silence, returning to the place that caused him such anguish and heartache. He wouldn't evade it, but the pain was truly unbearable; his heart ached profoundly.

At the Dragon Nest's Nirvana Land, the Ancestral Demon Cauldron stood. It was still there, able only to sigh at this outcome.

Chu Feng had known from the beginning that the chances of success were slim. Tai Wu had once said that only a Heavenly Venerate could revive those people within the optimal timeframe, and there were no Heavenly Venerates in the Underworld!

Yet, he had still clung to a sliver of hope, not asking for everyone to be revived, but only for a few to reappear, even if they were just fragmented souls.

Now, there was nothing.

“When we were in the Great Abyss, their soul-lights were dissipating, but some fragments remained. Is there truly nothing left now?”

“They have decomposed, transforming into energetic matter, freely dispersed within the cauldron. They are no longer soul-lights,” the Ancestral Demon Cauldron informed him.

Chu Feng collapsed in despair, unable to speak.

He carefully observed and sensed this energetic matter, and his heart immediately sank completely. It was similar to what happened after Qin Luoyin's death: there was no true spirit left.

Qin Luoyin's soul-light would have also decomposed, but it was eroded by a golden substance, causing it to coalesce rather than disperse, though her true spirit had still scattered.

“You are all gone…” Chu Feng silently wept. In just these past few days, his life had experienced drastic ups and downs, enduring the most difficult and painful darkness.

“Leave these materials; don't bury them. I will revive them,” Chu Feng whispered, his voice tinged with loss and sorrow, having lost his former edge.

Their soul-lights had dissipated, transforming into energetic matter. Yet, these did not vanish entirely from the world, held within the Ancestral Demon Cauldron. Chu Feng clung to this last shred of hope, awaiting dawn.

Finally, the Ancestral Demon Cauldron shrank and conferred with Chu Feng, wishing to enter the stone box to slumber. It believed the stone box to be a supreme treasure of the Yang Realm, and as a weapon of the Yin Realm, it hoped to sense it and see if it could aid its own recovery.

Chu Feng nodded, gathered everything, and left the place.

After that, he spoke no words, unable even to shed tears. He simply embarked on his journey alone, standing in the East Sea, seeing neither the Dragon Girl nor the figures on Undying Mountain. He turned and departed.

His back, however, appeared somewhat lonely. He was withdrawn, uttering no words.

Chu Feng returned to the land, quiet and desolate. This was his own solitary and bleak journey, with no one to accompany him. The playful companions from years past would never reappear.

He returned to the small town at the foot of Taihang Mountain, to his two-story house. Yellow Ox had once lived there for a long time, but now it was eerily quiet.

Night had fallen deep, and Chu Feng did not turn on the lights.

He went to the rooftop, gazing absently at the dim starlight, filled with melancholy.

He had grown up here in his childhood before moving away from the town with his parents.

Chu Feng lay on the rooftop, silent, thinking of his childhood when his parents cared for him there, worrying if he was cold or hot, showering him with all sorts of love and attention as they watched him grow.

Those warm scenes, those two kind faces, seemed to reappear right before him. He reached out to touch them, to draw close as he did in his youth, but there was nothing.

His hands were empty, and there was only the cold night.

Tears silently slipped from the corners of Chu Feng's eyes as he lay there.

As dawn approached, he returned to the house, to his parents' bedroom, and sat there, silent and still.

He stayed there for three days, ceaselessly reminiscing. Every memory, every experience since his earliest childhood, replayed in his mind, as if he were walking through life with his parents again, living together for another twenty-something years.

Then, he silently departed. No one knew he had returned to his home in the small town.

Chu Feng walked to the foot of Taihang Mountain. It was in these hills that he and Zhou Quan first encountered Yellow Ox. At that time, it was mysterious and mischievous, making Zhou Quan so frustrated he called it the 'Ox Demon King'.

It was Yellow Ox, in fact, who guided Chu Feng onto the path of cultivation. In the early stages of the world's transformations and the land's resurgence, Chu Feng began to evolve by its side.

His life's destiny began to change right here.

But where was Yellow Ox? It was gone. Zhou Quan had also died. All had turned into blood mist, their soul-lights disintegrated.

He truly longed to see them again. When they were together, there was always laughter, but now he couldn't even speak, feeling only a sense of weariness and decline.

Chu Feng departed, traversing mountains and forests, heading west. He arrived at Kunlun, where he sat alone on a mountaintop, quietly watching the sunrise.

In the past, they would drink wine from large bowls, eat huge chunks of meat, and carouse with a group of brothers. Even Old Lama and Grandmaster Wu Qifeng couldn't avoid being pulled into the festivities, joining them in raising their cups.

But now, as the mountain wind blew, it left behind only profound solitude. Chu Feng took out a wine jar, poured glass after glass, drank one himself, and then poured the rest onto the ground as an offering to them.

“Brothers who shared life and death, where are you all? Who can stand by my side and fight our way into the Yang Realm?”

His words were scattered by the wind, leaving behind only a stifled sob.

Chu Feng looked at the fiery red rising sun, but felt no warmth. Here, he felt cold, desolate, and utterly alone.

Sitting on the great mountain, his thoughts drifted back to the past. During the East-West war, it was at the foot of this very mountain that the Mastiff King roared, battling the Arctic King, and the Roc King spread its wings, pursuing the Black Dragon King.

The Big Black Ox had contacted various factions, inviting masters from all over the East. After the great decisive battle, the group pursued and fought their way to the West.

It was also then that he met the unprincipled Siberian Tiger. Not long after, Tiger King helped Chu Feng battle Schiller at Dragon Tiger Mountain, becoming a friend who shared hardships. Later, their bond grew even stronger, and Tiger King became a member of Kunlun Mountain.

There was also the old donkey with its large buck teeth and long, floppy ears, and Ouyang Feng, who always looked at people askance and constantly spewed saliva – all of them joined Kunlun later. Thinking of them would bring a smile to one's face.

However, now, the mountain was silent.

Everyone was gone.

And not long ago, this place had been truly glorious. On the eve of the Yang Realm's true cross-dimensional arrival, various races from across the starry sky sent emissaries here to pay tribute.

Just as it seemed to flourish, everything changed in a single night.

Before the calamity struck, Qin Luoyin had even brought the young Taoist priest to Earth specifically to warn Chu Feng. The divination grandmaster had sensed something amiss and predicted the 'sky rupture,' and indeed, everything came true.

Chu Feng was lost in thought, feeling a pang of bitterness and regret. The young Taoist priest was still alive, but Qin Luoyin, after delivering her message and warning him to be careful, met with disaster not long after.

At this moment, he was truly filled with grief and indignation. Sitting there, he clenched his fists tightly, his spirit deeply wounded.

Parents, wife, friends—one by one, they had departed. In this vast world, though many people and many evolvers still existed, he felt an overwhelming sense of solitude.

Chu Feng left Kunlun, a crystalline tear clinging to the corner of his eye.

A long time later, he stood by the great river. He had once traveled down the great river with Qin Luoyin and the young Taoist priest, admiring the scenery and exploring famous mountains and rivers along the way.

Upon reaching here, Chu Feng felt very weary, primarily from mental exhaustion and heartbreak.

He lay on a bamboo raft, drifting down the great river, letting it carry him wherever it might. He looked up at the sky, and before his eyes, the figures of his parents, relatives, friends, and Qin Luoyin reappeared. He didn't want to move a muscle.

Lying on the bamboo raft, drifting far down the great river, this was his solitary journey. In the end, tears silently slipped from his eyes. He simply gazed at the sky, wanting to do nothing at all.

His heart was deeply wounded; he longed for those people, but he couldn't cry out loud.

All his tears ended today, he felt. In the future, there would be no time for tears. This was his final farewell.