Eternal Holy Emperor
Chapter 469 - 421: The Future Him!

Chapter 469: Chapter 421: The Future Him!

Endless starry sky, at the highest peak of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, an unparalleled Emperor’s Throne stretched across the heavens, and Ye Chen was seated upon it.

But that was a future version of himself; although he appeared very young, in his twenties, his deep eyes were filled with the vicissitudes of eternal times, far older than his appearance suggested.

Yet time could no longer leave the slightest mark on him. He was too powerful, unmatched in all the world, dazzling throughout the ages, as if forever fixed in this moment of youth, still radiating with heroic stature, his black hair cascading like a waterfall, peerless under heaven.

Seated on the Emperor’s Throne, he was the Heavenly God above all, majestic and unparalleled, gazing upon the vast expanse of the starry sky, soaring above all the mortal world.

All spirits were to submit, to kneel, to offer worship.

He was the one and only Supreme.

Was this truly him in the future?

Ye Chen’s heart shook; the future him had clearly reached the Supreme Realm, reaching the ultimate pinnacle of his life, standing at the summit of the Dao, looking down upon the eternal red dust with immortality, ruling the universe alone, the Supreme above all.

Yet Ye Chen felt a profound loneliness within the future him, unmatched in the world yet surrounded by a universal silence.

Gazing upon that expanse of stars, it was shattered, countless great stars had collapsed, the Heavenly Stars dimmed, one Great World after another had broken apart.

In the sky, there was only a dim sun, like a twilight sunset, no longer blazing with a billion beams.

The moon was shattered, and the vast lands of the Heavenly and Myriad of Realms were fractured, the entire expansive Ancient Realm shrouded in a hazy dusk.

The Ten Thousand Clans withered, the earth stained with blood and disintegrating, as if encountering a terrifying destruction akin to the end of the Mythical Era, the boundless Heavenly and Myriad of Realms seemed to be crippled, with the ancient universe teetering on collapse, hardly a spot remaining unscathed.

Was this the future of the Heavenly and Myriad of Realms?

Ye Chen looked out and suddenly trembled violently, strong enough that he should never tremble, but he did so because of the scene before him.

He saw, behind the future him, a Divine Tree that soared into the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, enormously vast, its trunk countless times larger than mountains, robust beyond comparison, standing between heaven and earth, penetrating the boundless starry space.

That was the World Tree, as stout as in the Mythical Era, grown to its ultimate extent. Sadly, it had also fractured, charred throughout as if it had suffered endless calamities and withered away, life extinguished, sprawling across the endless starry sky.

Its withered branches were entwined with broken Heavenly Stars, remnants of shattered Great Worlds floating amidst its leaves, devoid of life, the silence of despair echoing around.

Yet, Ye Chen suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry, his eyes moist, tears shimmering, wanting to scream, to roar, filled with helplessness and despair.

For he sensed the aura of the World Tree; though it had died and grown vast, it bore the familiarity of the soul, belonging to Yaya.

He seemed to see the heartbreaking beauty of a weeping girl, her light green shirt stained red with blood, her exquisite face turned pale, her eyes marked with tears, looking at him with reluctance, yet closing forever.

"Ah—"

Ye Chen let out a wail of sorrow, his tears wetting his collar.

What exactly had happened in the future? Why did the Great World collapse, Yaya withered, Zhao Jingruo, Wang Ming, and others lain across the River of Time, with only himself standing alone between heaven and earth, becoming the Supreme existence.

What use was being unbeatable in the world, if the world itself had become silent?

The future him had no one by his side, a solitary companion to the Divine Dao, what vast loneliness.

Ye Chen could see that within the future him, beneath his dignity, a deep sorrow was emerging.

He sat on the Emperor’s Throne, gazing in this direction, as if he could see the present self, his profound eyes twinkling with tears, shaking his head towards himself: "It’s all too late, after waiting through eternal times, spanning two epochs, laying out plans for so many years, in the end everything succeeded, so why is there not a trace of joy."

"Chen’er, Jingruo, Yu Qing, Yii Wu, Xi’er, Yaya... everyone is gone, leaving only me."

"To be unmatched in Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, what of it? To orchestrate the Heavenly and Myriad of Worlds, so what? Having traversed through the past and present, achieving the goal, I succeeded, but it came at the greatest cost, losing everything."

The future him had already achieved Supreme status, peerless throughout the ages, unmatched in the past and present, yet he was shedding tears alone, a sight unimaginable—that was the tear of a Supreme, which could transform into a vast Divine Sea, nourishing all beings, yet unable to revive the people who had passed away.

He had lost too much, unbeatable as he was, standing at the Absolute Peak of the Dao was useless, as powerful as the future him was, becoming the strongest existence between heaven and earth meant nothing, for everyone around him was gone, leaving only him alone, of what use was that.

The future him was filled with pain, void of any joy, of any happiness.

One could see the future him looking towards a corner of the starry sky, where there was a small island about thirty feet in size, bobbing in the sea, with a simple thatched cottage, and in front of it, a withered branch planted; that was a branch of the World Tree.

Underneath that branch were little mounds of earth, tombs spread across the small island. Each was simple, yet each tomb was planted with fresh flowers that blossomed unfading throughout the year.

On every gravestone were the names of Zhao Jingruo, Yii Wu, Chen’er, Ruoxi, Yaya, Wang Ming, and one familiar person after another, past beauties and old friends, all buried on that small island.