After a long time, Ethan Brooks's empty eyes gradually regained a trace of vitality, and finally showed a look of shock: “Heavens! What on earth has happened! Since I have already died, why have I been made to crawl out of the grave?!”

“Could it be that the heavens want this useless person to continue his mediocre life?!” After the shock passed, Ethan Brooks's face was filled with confusion, but even more with pain. He closed his eyes and clutched his head tightly with both hands.

He remembered clearly that he had died in a duel, and yet now...

Scenes from the past floated through his mind—those that once were, those that had faded, those that were eternal... leaving too many regrets in his heart!

The world was still vast, the flowers and grass still fragrant, yet his heart felt empty, with nowhere to rest.

After a long while, Ethan Brooks slowly got up from the ground. His gaze began to wander around the cemetery, and finally he confirmed that this was a burial ground for gods and demons. After the initial shock, he gradually calmed down.

“Even the hardest diamond tombstones have clearly been carved by the passage of time. That must have taken ten thousand years. The seas change into mulberry fields, ten thousand years have passed in a blink. Heh heh... a dream through the ages!” Ethan Brooks sighed.

Looking at the forest of tombstones, his heart was full of doubt.

“The tomb of the Roaring Sky Divine Tiger Robert Smith, the tomb of the Three-Headed Demon Dragon George Brooks, the tomb of the Martial Saint Andrew Clark, the tomb of the Divine Knight Matthew Brooks... It seems that besides gods and demons, some powerful humans and a few rare non-human cultivators are also buried here.”

“What exactly happened ten thousand years ago? Why did the so-called immortal gods and demons die? Why are the gods of the Celestial Fantasy Continent and the Demonic Fantasy Continent buried together? Why was I buried here?”

A gentle breeze brushed past, ruffling his filthy long hair, and also disturbing his lonely heart.

Ethan Brooks looked up to the sky and shouted, “Who can tell me what happened?!”

No one answered him.

In the distance, petals from the tall snow maple trees drifted down, swirling and scattering through the air. The falling flowers were like a rain of tears—the departed gods were weeping!

“The gods are dead, the demons are gone, yet I still live... Heavens, why did you make me crawl out of the grave? Where should I go from here?”

The sun was setting behind the western hills, the evening glow dyed half the sky red, gilding the clouds at the horizon with streaks of gold.

Ethan Brooks gathered up his lost feelings. He knew that some things simply offered no choice; he could only move forward, step by step.

He carefully filled in the small grave at his feet with earth, then walked out of the cemetery. Passing through the aura-filled snow maple forest, he couldn’t help but pause in surprise. He had never seen trees so rich in spiritual energy. He wondered to himself, could this be a new species that appeared during the long years of his “slumber”?

When a pure white petal drifted down before Ethan Brooks, his vision blurred for a moment, and sealed memories slowly opened. That too was a season of falling flowers...

He thought of the “her” in his heart...

“Seas change, the world rises and falls... sigh!” Ethan Brooks shook his head and strode out of the forest.

When he emerged from the snow maple woods, the sun was setting. The once peaceful cemetery of gods and demons was no longer calm—dark demonic energy was rising from the graves, and endless darkness began to shroud the entire burial ground.

Ethan Brooks vaguely heard low growls coming from behind, but he paid them no mind, thinking that wild beasts were coming out after sunset. He stretched his limbs and muttered to himself, “Ten thousand years, and my body hasn’t rusted yet, has it?” He knew his skills weren’t great, but dealing with ordinary beasts shouldn’t be a problem.

Not far ahead of the snow maple forest stood three thatched huts. An emaciated old man stood at the door, his hair and beard completely white, his face etched with the wrinkles of a hard life.

A strange emotion welled up in Ethan Brooks's heart. This was the first person he had seen since returning to life—there was a trace of familiarity, a trace of loss, a trace of confusion...

Ten thousand years ago, he was born before his parents; ten thousand years later, upon rebirth, he faced such an old man.

“How could I associate my parents with this old man?” he laughed at himself.

The old man, leaning on a cane, tottered toward him, looking so frail that a gust of wind might blow him over.

Ethan Brooks hurried forward to support the old man, but the old man waved his hand, signaling him to let go, and said a few words in a reproachful tone. However, Ethan Brooks didn’t understand a single word.

The obscure and difficult language sent a chill through his heart. Suddenly, he realized that ten thousand years had passed, and the language of his era had been abandoned by history.

He had hoped to learn about the present world from the old man, but the language barrier dashed his hopes.

Seeing his blank stare, the old man’s expression softened, and his tone became gentler. But when he saw that Ethan Brooks still looked confused, the old man frowned, then took his hand and led him toward the thatched huts.

Ethan Brooks followed the old man numbly. His instincts told him the old man meant no harm, but since they couldn’t communicate, he could only play dumb.

The old man brought him to the front of the huts, pointed at a wooden bucket on the ground, then at a well not far away, and then went inside.

“He wants me to fetch water? Does he want me to work as a laborer here?” Ethan Brooks wondered to himself.