After a thousand years of cultivation, he returns at the pinnacle!

Chapter 70 Hope for Humanity

In the void, dark golden light spots were still slowly drifting away.

Those were the last traces of Astra's existence. The points of light drifted out from the center of the silver sword vortex, blown in all directions by the sword wind, like a silent, golden snowfall. Each point of light was a piece of shattered law, a reversal, an immortality, an absolute rule etched into the origin of the void for three hundred years, now all turned into the finest dust, drifting towards the end of the void, drifting towards a distant place that could never be reunited.

The vortex of swords was still spinning.

Millions of swords slowly rotated in the void, their silver light illuminating the entire space as if it were daytime. But the rotation slowed, the gaps between the swords reappeared, and the silver vortex that stretched across the heavens and earth began to dissipate from its edges. One by one, the swords detached from the vortex, transforming into silver specks of light, like shooting stars flowing backward, flying back from the depths of the void and merging into the sea of ​​swords behind Jiang Chen.

The sea of ​​swords was shrinking. Ten thousand, ten thousand, a thousand, a hundred. Finally, only one sword remained, hovering behind Jiang Chen. That sword was entirely silver-white, its blade gleaming with a cold light. There were no superfluous patterns on its surface, only a pure, almost transparent quality. It slowly rotated in the void, emitting a very soft, wind-chime-like hum.

Then, it disappeared too.

The sword domain receded. The silvery-white light faded from the void like a receding tide, revealing the space itself riddled with holes. The cracks slashed by the sword were slowly repairing themselves, so slowly that the dark red light at the edges of the cracks could be clearly seen dimming and closing little by little. This void had endured the most terrifying attack since its birth, and its self-repair mechanism was on the verge of overload.

Jiang Chen stood in the void.

His right hand loosened its clenched grip and hung back at his side. The hem of his school uniform was still fluttering gently, the dark blue fabric spotless. His expression remained calm, the faint smile on his lips gone, replaced by a serene, almost indifferent calm.

But no one in the live stream could remain calm anymore.

After a complete silence lasting more than ten seconds, the comments section erupted in a manner never before seen in human history.

The text on the screen was no longer just layered and densely packed. It was a pure, utter, seamless white ocean. Billions of comments flooded in at the same time, hundreds of data centers around the world simultaneously triggered alarms, server room temperatures soared to dangerous levels within seconds, and engineers frantically typed on keyboards to expand capacity, distribute workloads, and restart, but the rate of increase in comments far exceeded their processing capabilities.

"We won!!!!!!!!!"

"Astra is dead!!!! The thirteenth apostle is dead!!!!"

"Jiang Chen killed him!!!! He really killed him!!!! The immortal apostle was ground to dust by Jiang Chen's sword!!!!"

"Did you see that final scene?! Thousands upon thousands of swords!! Grinding Astra to pieces like a meat grinder!!"

"Erased from existence itself!! There's no possibility of resurrection left!!"

"Three hundred years!!!! Humanity has been oppressed by the Apostles for three hundred years!! Today, we finally killed one!!"

"This is the legendary Thirteenth Apostle!! One of the masterminds behind the cholera outbreak three hundred years ago!"

"Wow, Jiang Chen is really something else!"

"What kind of being is he exactly? A powerless individual?"

"Jiang Chen!!! Jiang Chen!!! Jiang Chen!!!"

"I just knelt down, I really knelt down. From Zhou Tianze almost being killed, to Jiang Chen appearing, to Astra's transformation, to the unfolding of the Sword Domain, to the millions of swords grinding down the laws. I felt like I'd been thrown into a washing machine, from despair to hope, from hope to shock, from shock to madness."

"Me too. My hands and feet are shaking, I can barely type, and tears are streaming down my face, but I don't know why I'm crying."

"My mom asked me why I was kneeling while looking at my phone, and I said humanity won. She was stunned, and then she cried too."

"Three hundred years. From the very first day the Apostles descended, humanity has lived in fear. We established the Awakened System, we nurtured generation after generation of warriors, and we regarded Ye Wuhen, Zhou Tianze, and Luo Qinghe as humanity's hope. But today they almost died on the hundredth floor. The one who truly killed the Apostles was a 'powerless person' who had been ridiculed by the whole world for a whole month."

"What 'powerless'? Screw the label! Jiang Chen isn't a product of the Awakened system at all! His power comes entirely from another dimension! Astra never figured out what his power was, even until his death!"

"Do you remember what Astra said at the end? 'What exactly are you? An apostle who lived for three hundred years, dying without knowing what killed him.'"

"I screen-recorded it. Astra's final expression, the eyes on half of his face, the pupils filled with terror. For the first time in three hundred years, the Apostle felt fear. And the one who brought him that fear was a seventeen-year-old high school student."

"History will remember this day. No, history is being rewritten starting today. The apostles are not invincible, immortality is not absolute, and humanity's future holds true hope from this day forward."

The chat was scrolling wildly, but the boy in the school uniform didn't react at all in the live stream. He hovered in mid-air, glancing down at his right palm.

There, there was a dark golden spot of light.

It is the last remnant of Astra.

Jiang Chen stared at the speck of light, remaining silent for a moment. Then, he gently clenched his fist. The speck of light vanished silently from his palm.

He turned around.

Behind him, Ye Wuhen, Zhou Tianze, and Luo Qinghe floated motionless in the void. They had remained in this position for a long time. From the moment Jiang Chen unleashed his sword domain, they had not moved.

Ye Wuhen still held the longsword, now only the hilt, in his hand. The hilt still retained the warmth of when the blade broke, a warmth that had long since cooled, yet he still gripped it tightly, his knuckles white. His eyes were fixed on Jiang Chen's back, his pupils reflecting the dark golden specks of light still drifting in the void, his expression one of bewilderment he hadn't shown in fifty years.

He wasn't bewildered when he emerged alive from the First Apostle's Hall. He wasn't bewildered when he slew the S-class Demon God. He wasn't bewildered when he faced three Apostle Giants alone at the border, breaking three of their swords, and finally piercing the heart of the last Apostle with his broken sword. But now, he is bewildered.

Because he saw that the realm he had been pursuing for thirty years had been achieved by another person in a way that he could not understand at all.

Zhou Tianze stood beside him, his bare upper body still bearing the marks of the battle. The dent in his chest from Astra's palm strike had completely healed, and his broken ribs had rejoined without leaving a scar. His left eye, the eye he had lost for ten years, was now open perfectly, its pupil reflecting the dissipating silver sword light in the void. In his right hand, he still gripped the hilt of the broken spear; the blade was severed in the middle, the break marked by the twisted lines left when Astra had snapped it with his fingers.

He looked at the broken spear, then looked up at Jiang Chen's back.

"Old Ye." His voice was hoarse, carrying an emotion he hadn't felt in ten years, "My eyes... I can see again."

Ye Wuhen did not answer.

"Luo Qinghe's hand can move again," Zhou Tianze continued, his voice growing softer. "When he was healing us just now, the power I felt wasn't the healing ability of any awakened being. It was something else entirely. Like Astra said, it was something completely outside this world."

Ye Wuhen still didn't answer. He just watched Jiang Chen's back, watching the boy in the school uniform turn around and walk towards them.

Jiang Chen walked up to the three of them and stopped.

He looked at the broken sword in Ye Wuhen's hand, then at the broken spear in Zhou Tianze's hand, and finally at the ice shell on Luo Qinghe's right arm that had completely dissipated. The ice seal cast by Astra had completely disappeared, and Luo Qinghe's right arm was intact, his fingers slightly flexing and extending, as if confirming that he had truly regained sensation.

"Are your injuries all healed?" Jiang Chen asked.

Luo Qinghe looked up at him, and for the first time, a look of bewilderment appeared in his usually cold eyes. She wanted to say so much. She wanted to say thank you, to ask him who he really was, where his power came from, and how he had accomplished all of this. But in the end, she simply nodded.

Jiang Chen nodded, then turned and walked into the depths of the void.

"Wait!" Ye Wuhen's voice came from behind.

Jiang Chen stopped walking without turning around.

"where you go?"

"Going home." Jiang Chen's voice was soft, as if he were talking about something perfectly ordinary. "My mom is waiting for me to eat."

Ye Wuhen opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Jiang Chen's figure had already disappeared before his eyes.

Only three people remained in the void, along with a patch of dark golden light that was dissipating.

Zhou Tianze stared at the spot where Jiang Chen had disappeared, remaining silent for a long time before suddenly laughing. The laughter was soft, carrying a sense of relief that came after ten years of suppressed emotions.

"Old Ye," he said, "we were just saved by a high school student."

Ye Wuhen did not laugh. He simply looked down at the hilt of the broken sword in his hand, his thumb tracing the thirty-year-old wear mark on the guard.

"I know," he said.

"He killed the thirteenth apostle."

"I know."

"He used a power that we could not possibly comprehend."

"I know."

Zhou Tianze looked at Ye Wuhen and suddenly stopped smiling.

"Old Ye, are you alright?"

Ye Wuhen did not answer. He simply sheathed the broken sword, then raised his head to look at the slowly closing crack in the depths of the void. It was the passage that had reopened between the 100th and 99th floors after Astra's death. On the other side of the crack, there was light.

"Let's go," he said.

Where to?

"go back."

He stepped toward the crack.

"The battle is over."

There are still many things they need to learn, but they must return to the capital first.

Meanwhile, in Jiangzhou...

Jiang Chen stepped out of the void and landed by the flower bed downstairs in his building.

The setting sun was sinking behind the distant mountains, turning half the sky a molten gold. The long shadow of the crooked locust tree in the flowerbed fell at his feet, exactly the same as it had been a month ago when he first returned from the cultivation world. The old lady walking her dog, Teddy, walked past the flowerbed again. Seeing Jiang Chen appear out of nowhere, she rubbed her eyes, muttered, "Her presbyopia is getting worse," and slowly walked away with her dog.

Jiang Chen looked down at his school uniform. The dark blue fabric was clean, without wrinkles or dust. The scorch marks left from the battle in the capital had long been repaired by spiritual power; during today's battle, Astra hadn't even touched the hem of his clothes.

He strode toward the building.

The stairwell still smelled familiar. The stewed pork ribs from Grandma Wang's house on the first floor, the cooking fumes from Uncle Zhang's house on the third floor, and the sandalwood from Aunt Li's house on the fifth floor—all blended together to create a unique aroma belonging to this old residential building. He had lived in the world of cultivation for a thousand years, shattering the void, splitting the heavens, comprehending the three thousand great Daos, and ascending to the pinnacle of the world. But no smell could bring him more peace than this mixture of cooking fumes, sandalwood, and stewed pork ribs.

He climbed four floors and stopped in front of his own house.

The door was still that old-fashioned security door, its paint peeling and the doorknob worn smooth. A faded "福" (good fortune) character was pasted on the door; it was bought by his mother from the market last Chinese New Year for one yuan, and it had been there for over half a year without being removed.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

Hurried footsteps came from inside the door, and then the door was suddenly pulled open.

Jiang Xueqin stood in the doorway, wearing an apron and holding a spatula. Her eyes were red, and there were still tear stains on her face. The moment she saw Jiang Chen, she froze for a moment, then dropped the spatula on the ground with a clatter. She grabbed Jiang Chen's arm and patted him from head to toe.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Really not?"

"Really, no."

Jiang Xueqin stared at him for three seconds to make sure he wasn't lying. Then she bent down, picked up the spatula, and turned to walk into the kitchen.

"There are still ribs simmering in the pot; your dad has been waiting for you so long he's finished his cigarette."

She walked to the kitchen doorway, then suddenly stopped, her back to Jiang Chen, her voice trembling slightly.

"Was that you on TV?"

She still seemed somewhat incredulous.

"It's me."

"That apostle is dead?"

"He's dead."

Jiang Xueqin was silent for a moment. Then she turned around, looked at Jiang Chen, her eyes reddening again, but the corners of her mouth were turned up.

"Then hurry up and wash your hands and eat. The ribs have been stewing for over an hour; they'll get tough if we don't eat them soon."

Jiang Chen watched his mother's figure disappear through the kitchen doorway, listening to the sounds of spatulas stirring and ribs simmering in the clay pot. He stood in the entryway, the old rug he'd used for over a decade beneath his feet bearing an indelible soy sauce stain—a mark left when he tripped and fell while carrying a soy sauce bottle when he was seven. The lampshade above him had a crack—a mark left when he was ten, playing darts with his father, and a dart struck the lampshade. The pencil mark on the wall stretched from knee-high to taller than him—the mark his mother had made every year on his birthday, measuring his height against the doorframe.

All the traces are still there. Nothing has changed.

Jiang Tianyi walked out of the living room, holding an empty cigarette pack in his hand. He glanced at Jiang Chen, crushed the pack and threw it into the trash can, then walked over and slapped Jiang Chen on the shoulder. The slap was heavy, so heavy that Jiang Chen's shoulder slumped down.

"Good lad." Jiang Tianyi's voice was hoarse, with the rough texture of someone who'd smoked too much. "You've made your old man proud."

Jiang Chen looked into his father's eyes. Something was gleaming in those eyes, which had become somewhat cloudy from the wind and sand of the construction site and the passage of time.

"dad."

"Um?"

"I'm a little hungry."

Jiang Tian paused for a moment, then laughed. The laughter was loud, echoing in the narrow entryway, making the cracked lamp sway slightly.

"Your mom stewed pork ribs, including your favorite cartilage."

He put his arm around Jiang Chen's shoulder and walked towards the living room.

"Let's go eat."

In the living room, the television was still on. The live broadcast had switched back to the studio, and the presenter was speaking in a trembling voice, trying to suppress his emotions. At the bottom of the screen, a large headline was scrolling:

"The Thirteenth Apostle's Hall has been cleared. Killer: Jiang Chen."

Three sets of bowls and chopsticks were set on the coffee table, and the ribs in the casserole were still bubbling away. The setting sun outside the window had completely sunk behind the distant mountains, and the last rays of golden afterglow shone through the window, falling on the faded "福" (good fortune) character.