Chapter 345 — The God Who Weeps Not, Source of the Divine Calamity

The instant Saitama and Jiraiya entered their serious mode, Boros's fate was already sealed.

Almost at the very moment the two lethal strikes collided, that pitiful overlord of the cosmos was reduced to drifting ash and dust, scattering away between heaven and earth.

But the signal waves unleashed by Saitama and Jiraiya threw the global broadcast into chaos.

People all over the world had no idea what had happened, and assumed the three supreme powers were still locked in a desperate struggle to the death.

At last, the garbled signal settled back into calm.

Boros's figure had vanished without a trace.

In the spot where he had stood, there now appeared a white-robed, white-haired "youth" with silver eyes.

The other's white robe bore arcane, abstruse inscriptions of pale violet metal; his aura was ethereal and otherworldly, as though he were a deity who had watched over the mortal realm for tens of millions of years.

Who on earth was this being called Mingyuan?

And what of that arrogant, overbearing cosmic overlord Boros of a moment ago?

What exactly had happened in those three seconds?

Countless questions surfaced in everyone's minds.

Not a single person dared to ask—not even that unlucky band of S-class heroes in the Association.

They had barely managed to see Boros destroyed, only for an even more terrifying Mingyuan to appear.

In the presence of this white-haired, silver-eyed youth, the S-class heroes held their breath, every hair on their bodies standing on end, a chill wind sweeping over them, so nervous they scarcely knew where to put their hands.

Boros's strength was a strength that could be understood.

But the strength of the youth before them had already surpassed their understanding and comprehension.

Even Genos, who had utter faith in Saitama, now felt a flicker of worry for his teacher.

The half-mechanical cyborg youth had poured all his contributions into his life-intensity detection apparatus, upgrading it to plus-eighteen—and before this white-haired, silver-eyed young man, it failed.

Such a thing had happened only three times before.

Wang Xu, president of the Hero Association; Saitama, the teacher ranked No. 1 among the S-class; and Jiraiya, hailed as the "Toad Monster."

Genos's life-intensity readings came up as three crimson question marks for all three of them—and yet that did not mean the three were of equal strength.

It was like a man who could only count from one to a hundred; to him, a thousand and a trillion were no different.

As Genos's thoughts raced, the white-haired, silver-eyed youth suddenly spoke.

"I am—"

The silver-eyed youth's white hair streamed and drifted, stirring without wind, while a fierce astral gale coiled about him, shifting into countless graceful, immortal silhouettes: "Shen Wuqi."

With those three words upon his lips, the sky darkened, as though even the stars were in an instant stripped of their light.

Every corner of the Earth, every living being, heard him—and understood.

This person.

No.

This deity was named—Shen Wuqi.

"This place… is not the Xuanyu Galaxy."

Shen Wuqi looked left and right, the weariness on his face gradually fading, his heart full of curiosity.

Even in his mother's womb he had been nourished by the Primordial Purple Qi, favored by the Heavenly Dao; the moment he passed his first full month he awakened the Primordial Chaos Sacred Body and became the youngest cultivator in history.

Thereafter, at one year he was a Refining Warrior, at three a Refining Master, at six a Refining Spirit, at ten a Refining King, at twelve a Refining Venerable.

Any technique he saw once, he mastered; used once, he perfected—nay, improved upon, pondering and devising still more transcendent, wholly new arts.

While other geniuses labored to cultivate the arts bequeathed by the ancients, Shen Wuqi was already cultivating techniques of his own creation!

When the so-called darlings of heaven fought tooth and nail, heads bloodied, over a single ancient tome in a secret realm, Shen Wuqi was peddling the soul-refining manuals he had devised, raking in a fortune while spreading his fame across the world.

When peerless heroes preened over some commendation from their ancestors, Shen Wuqi had already sent their masters and forebears fleeing in panic, harried to the ends of their endurance.

When the leaders of the righteous path and the titans of the demonic sects hoarded their treasures, Shen Wuqi freely copied out wondrous techniques and secret manuals, having his subordinate powers distribute them to every cultivator in Xuanyu at no cost—spreading the Way to all living things, becoming a teacher to the world!

Countless witches and immortal maidens offered themselves to his bed, yet Shen Wuqi cast them aside like worn sandals, regarded them as so much chaff.

Talent, glory, conviction!

Of what use is supreme talent without the single-minded devotion to cultivate? How is one different from a cripple?

Shen Wuqi wished to ascend to the very peak, to look upon the splendor of the summit of the refining path.

Such was he: at fifteen he attained Refining Sage, and in the two years after, he wiped out the Demon Race and the Dragon Race in succession, earning the title "Peerless Refining Emperor."

At eighteen, feeling his cultivation complete, Shen Wuqi went alone into the vast cosmos, roaming the dark seas of stars, warring against the hundred emperors of the myriad stars!

He fed war with war, and at last, in his seventieth year, became the sole [Supreme Refining God] of the Xuanyu Galaxy!

Yet he did not grow complacent or slacken for it.

In the Xuanyu Galaxy, even a supreme god could live only a hundred thousand years.

A mere hundred thousand years—how could that be called a great transcendence?!

He cultivated not for a beauty's smile, not for wealth beyond measure, not for boundless battle power, but only for eternal freedom and ease!

Shen Wuqi ceaselessly sought the possibility of breaking free of the shackles of lifespan.

His true body held sway over Xuanyu, while he split off millions of avatars to seek other civilizations across the cosmos, in search of a way to eternal life.

A hundred thousand years…

It seems an immense span, yet to the one living it, it was no more than the blink of an eye.

Over those hundred thousand years, Shen Wuqi watched his kin and clansmen rise to their zenith and turn to decline, at last fading into the long river of history.

He watched the world advance, watched the martial path develop.

The Bronze Era, the Black Iron Era, the Silver Era, the Golden Era, the Sky Era, the Star Scar Era, the Glory Era…

At the beginning, young cultivators of the Xuanyu continent had to spend a decade or more—nay, exhaust the toil of a lifetime—to master a single life-preserving technique.

A hundred thousand years later, even a brat who had just turned sixteen need only slot a card into a portable combat-assist device to instantly master an entire set of complex battle arts, or even forbidden killing moves.

The world was growing ever more wondrous.

Shen Wuqi wished to see more.

But his lifespan was nearly spent.

A hundred thousand years of painstaking research had come to nothing; no means whatsoever could break the limit of his lifespan.

Shen Wuqi roamed the cosmos, using supreme arcane arts to devour the flesh, blood, and souls of countless living beings, harming all things to nourish himself, his battle power soaring without limit.

Refining God, first tier; Refining God, second tier; Refining God, third tier…

The Shen Wuqi of today had reached the hundredth tier of Refining God, the realm of absolute perfection!

He could now easily crush tens of thousands of the selves who had just attained godhood back then.

But all of this…

Was meaningless!

At the very instant the sole supreme god of the Xuanyu continent stood on the brink of exhausted lifespan, hope descended before him.