Chapter 683 - 75: Primordial Dao and Virtue

Chapter 683: Chapter 75: Primordial Dao and Virtue

Eira Village.

The Golden Thread had completely collapsed.

In its place was a sea of Crimson light.

The light enveloped the villagers one by one—like silkworms spinning their cocoons.

The cocoons were translucent.

Crimson light flowed slowly within them, like blood through veins.

Through the thin shells, human silhouettes could still be seen. ℴℴ𝘮

Sera was curled into a ball.

Her arms were wrapped around her knees, her chin resting upon them.

Her gray-blue eyes were closed, her eyelashes trembling slightly.

Her lips quivered, letting out a muffled, dream-like murmur, "Sister... Sister... Where are you..."

Old Julius lay in his cocoon.

His hands were crossed over his chest, like a body laid to rest in a coffin.

But his chest still rose and fell.

The Warrior who had lost his left arm lay on his back.

His remaining right arm was stretched out by his side, fingers splayed.

The burn scar on his palm glinted with a dark-purple light under the Crimson glow.

His brow was tightly furrowed and the corners of his mouth were turned down—as if he were having a nightmare.

Elder Darius sat on the ground, his back against a stone pillar of the Holy Hall.

His hands hung at his sides, his wooden staff laid across his lap.

His eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted, revealing yellowed teeth.

His breathing was steady, like a sleeping baby’s.

The woman who had been shelling beans lay on her side.

One hand was pillowed beneath her head, the other resting on her stomach, fingers interlaced.

The corners of her mouth were turned up slightly, as if she were having a sweet dream.

Mira lay in the spot closest to the center of the Holy Hall.

Her gray-blue eyes were closed, a trace of color finally returning to her lips.

The Crimson light cast a faint blush upon her pale skin.

Her fingers were slightly curled, as if grasping something.

All the villagers were wrapped within.

Saladin, too.

His cocoon was next to Mira’s.

His wizened body was curled up, knees against his chest, two withered hands crossed over it.

His brow was deeply wrinkled, forming three horizontal lines like gullies carved by a knife.

Beneath his thin eyelids, his eyes darted rapidly: left, right, up, down.

He sank into a deep sleep, and dreamed.

In his dream, Saladin once again saw that figure from behind.

Orestes stood before him.

His back was broad, like a city wall.

His long, silver-white hair fluttered in the wind, a spear burning with golden flames in his hand.

"Ha! Ha!"

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Orestes was laughing.

It was a hearty, uninhibited laugh, like that of a wild beast freed from its cage.

Then Orestes turned and glanced at him.

There was no fear in his golden eyes, no anger—only a kind of tenderness.

"Saladin, if I don’t return—watch over this land for me."

Then he turned away and walked toward Ephialtes.

With each step, he ascended toward the heavens.

His silver-white hair streamed behind him like a banner.

Saladin’s eyes began to sting.

He wanted to shout, to call out to him—but his throat felt as if it were blocked, and he couldn’t make a sound.

He wanted to chase after him, to run ahead of him—but his legs felt nailed to the ground, unable to move a single step.

He could only watch as the figure grew more distant, smaller and smaller—until it was finally swallowed by a white light that surged from a fissure in the sky.

Saladin’s eyes snapped open.

Crimson light flooded his vision.

It took a long time for his eyes to adjust to the light.

And then he saw it—

The dragon.

It was wrapped in a massive cocoon.

Dozens of times larger than any of the others.

Its Dark Gold scales, illuminated by the Crimson light, held the luster of aged bronze.

Its massive wings were folded at its sides, the edges of their membranes drooping to the ground like two carelessly discarded cloaks.

It was curled up inside the cocoon—limbs drawn in, tail coiled around its body, like a fetus in the womb.

And around it were the other cocoons, arranged in neat rows.

Translucent, and emitting a Crimson glow.

Each cocoon held a villager—an elder, a child, a woman, a Warrior.

They slept peacefully, their faces serene, each in a different posture.

Yet all of them faced the dragon.

Like a circle of pilgrims, a congregation of kneeling worshippers.

Saladin’s pupils contracted sharply. "What... What in the world are you trying to do?"

The dragon opened its eyes.

The moment its vertical golden pupils opened, they illuminated the entire interior of the cocoon—like two lamps being lit at once.

The light seeped through the cocoon’s walls, creating ripple after ripple in the Crimson glow outside.

The dragon slowly raised its head.

A faint smile touched its lips.

"You’re awake."

Murphy’s voice boomed like a great bell.

"It seems your will is quite strong. Worthy of someone who once rivaled a Third-Level Wizard."

Saladin demanded, "What are you trying to do!"

Murphy looked at him.

"A pity. Unlike reading memories, a biological computer requires your cooperation. Forcing you into a working state will ultimately prevent Perfection."

Saladin’s brow furrowed. "A biological computer? What is that?"

He recalled what had happened earlier.

When Murphy’s Crimson light submerged the entire village, he had felt no pain, no discomfort at all.

He had only felt tired—an irresistible drowsiness.

It was as if someone had covered him with thick dust, burying him in the earth.

And then he had closed his eyes.

The Warriors, the villagers, the elders and children praying in the Holy Hall—it had been the same for all of them.

No one bled, no one screamed, no one collapsed.

They simply fell asleep.

Murphy hadn’t killed a single one of them.

He thought back even further.

In the valley, Murphy clearly could have killed him with a single blow.

Saladin’s cloudy eyes stared at the great dragon.

A sudden realization dawned on him, and he said:

"You said our Path is incorrect. But since you’ve said that it’s ’incorrect,’ it means you must know what is ’correct.’ You should tell us—how to walk the correct Path."