Douluo Continent: The Underworld Emperor Halosa Lets Three Fly

Chapter 117 Seclusion, The True Meaning of Reincarnation

Although the trip to the Demon Plane failed to devour the entire plane's origin as initially envisioned, and even caused the wolves and foxes to flee in terror at "Tong's" self-destruction, Harosa knew very well that he was definitely the biggest winner of this trip!

The frenzied "sheep-plundering" at the Gates of the Underworld yielded an enormous amount of demonic essence! This energy was transformed and absorbed through the terrifying efficiency of the God Realm of Rebirth in devouring the mist, and the resulting feedback effect far exceeded Harosa's expectations.

He could clearly feel that the realm of the dead beneath his feet had undergone earth-shattering changes. The hazy sky had become deeper and more expansive, as if it could contain the stars; the area of ​​the White Bone Plain had expanded several times over, and the newly reborn land was no longer pure deathly pale, but covered with a layer of grayish-brown moss containing strange vitality;

The power of rebirth permeating the air was even purer and more profound, carrying a grand rhythm that encompassed life and death and flowed endlessly.

The most direct manifestation of this is that the rank of the God Realm has been significantly elevated! It is no longer a fragile space that can only support third-level gods and barely accommodate second-level gods. Its profound origin and stable laws are now sufficient to support the birth and existence of first-level gods! This is a qualitative leap!

However, Harosa, the ruler of the divine realm, found himself stuck at a delicate juncture in his cultivation.

Six gray-brown, decaying wood-colored divine rings slowly rotated behind him, radiating a majestic divine power far exceeding that of ordinary second-level gods. He seemed to be only a thin veil away from the threshold of the seventh divine ring—the symbol of the divine power system—becoming a first-level god.

But this thin layer of paper is exceptionally tough.

"My power accumulation is already sufficient, even far exceeding the threshold of an ordinary first-level god—" Harosa sat cross-legged in the center of the White Bone Plain, feeling the boundless divine power surging within him, like a vast galaxy.

During his last seclusion, he not only fully absorbed the feedback from the demonic source, but also used this torrent to completely and without reservation transform the death source that once occupied 60% of his body, which was like a lead-gray ocean, into a pure source of rebirth!

This was a natural process, and a sign that his divine position was completely secured.

At this moment, there was no longer a trace of impure death aura within him; only the profound and mysterious gray-brown power of rebirth, imbued with the meaning of the cycle of life and death, surged and resonated within him. This complete transformation was directly reflected in his outward demeanor.

The former Harosa was like a lord of the dead rising from his grave, his pale face bearing an inescapable gloom and deathly stillness, his eyes sharp yet icy cold, and his body shrouded in a chilling aura that made one's life force drain away if one approached him. It was the aura of a pure ruler of death.

Now, that unsettling chill and unease, like morning mist dispersed by the sunlight, had vanished without a trace. His face still carried the unique indifference of a deity, but his skin was no longer a sickly pale white, but rather a warm, jade-like ivory white, as if it had weathered the passage of time. His greyish-white eyes were still deep and sharp, but no longer icy and piercing; instead, they were like bottomless ancient pools, their calm surface containing a grand rhythm of birth and death. His aura was restrained and concentrated, carrying an indescribable sense of inclusiveness.

It's as if death is no longer the end, but the beginning of another form; life is no longer fragile, but an inevitable blossoming in the cycle of reincarnation. This is a higher level of "indifference" based on the rules of life and death—a detachment that disregards individual birth and death and understands the cycle of all things.

His demeanor has subtly shifted from that of a "death monarch" to a "ruler of reincarnation."

Having completed the transformation of his origin and stabilized his peak level as a second-tier god, Harosa was not in a hurry to attempt the final step.

He knew that the birth of a first-level god was not simply an accumulation of power, but also required a profound understanding of the true meaning of one's own laws and a certain opportunity to conform to the rules of the universe. He immersed his entire mind in the vast, ever-flowing source of rebirth within his body, like a starry sea, to capture and comprehend the most core and fundamental meaning of reincarnation.

The time spent in the realm of gods has lost its meaning.

Seclusion.

Harosa sat motionless, his aura resonating with the entire divine realm. He was no longer an independent being, but had become a core extension of the divine will. Grayish-brown divine light flowed across his body, sometimes like a raging river, filled with the violent power of destruction and rebirth; sometimes like a tranquil pool, reflecting the eternal cycle of life and death; sometimes transforming into countless mysterious runes, depicting the cycle of birth, growth, decay, the soul returning to nothingness, and then reuniting under the pull of the power of rebirth, awaiting new life—a closed loop of reincarnation.

His deductions delved into the microscopic level. His divine consciousness transformed into countless threads, penetrating to the most minute details of the power of rebirth, observing how the dark particles representing "death" fell silent and decomposed, and how they were attracted and recombined by the faint points of light representing "life"—the boundary between life and death became blurred at the microscopic level, with only the eternal will of "flow" running through it all.

He saw on the plains of bones, grayish-brown moss absorbing the aura of death, emitting a faint glow of life, then withering away after reaching its peak, transforming into nourishment for the next generation—

He saw, on the newly expanded land, extremely faint fragments of souls, nurtured by the power of rebirth, awakening from chaos, earnestly absorbing the power of the divine realm, and beginning to coalesce into a new form—

He even faintly touched the ripples of time, feeling that reincarnation was not a straight line, but more like a Möbius strip with its beginning and end connected. The boundaries of past, present, and future became relative under the will of reincarnation. In this process, the aura around Harosa underwent subtle and profound changes.

At first, the immense divine power was like a sword drawn from its sheath, its sharpness fully revealed, and the six divine rings shone brightly, demonstrating its powerful presence.

Gradually, the outward-radiating divine light began to recede, like refined steel being cast into a furnace and reforged, its sharpness concealed. The rotation of the divine ring slowed, and the light softened, no longer dazzling, but becoming more profound and weighty.

Later, even the restrained divine light seemed to settle down, like a stream flowing into the sea. Harosa sat there, his aura becoming unusually peaceful and ordinary. If it weren't for his ancient divine robes and the six divine rings slowly rotating behind him, he would have looked more like a contemplative person immersed in his own world than a god who held the reincarnation of life and death.

This is a sign of returning to simplicity. The deeper his understanding of the true meaning of reincarnation, the more perfectly his power and the laws merge. He no longer needs to deliberately display it; his every move naturally contains the grand will of birth and death, the cycle of reincarnation. It is a confidence and composure that originates from the very depths of the laws themselves.

I don't know how much time has passed, maybe several years, maybe several decades.

Harosa slowly opened her eyes.

Those greyish-white eyes were now devoid of any confusion or sharpness, only a deep calm, as if reflecting the chaos and order of the beginning of the universe.

Deep within the eyes, countless tiny vortexes of grayish-brown light seemed to be constantly shifting and changing, enacting an eternal cycle of reincarnation.

This is a concrete manifestation of his deeper understanding of the true meaning of reincarnation during his period of seclusion.

"Whoosh—" A long breath escaped from Harosa's mouth, like a ripple spreading across an ancient well that had been silent for billions of years. He did not feel an explosive increase in power, but his "presence" seemed to be more closely integrated with this realm of the dead, and his control over his own divine power had reached an unprecedented level of subtlety.

He stretched his limbs, which had been sitting for a long time, and felt the vast, yet gentle and compliant, divine power of rebirth within his body, which was as vast as a galaxy and as easy to control as his own limbs. A satisfied smile appeared on his lips.

Although this enlightenment didn't directly allow him to condense the seventh divine ring and enter the realm of a first-level god, it laid an incredibly solid foundation for him. His understanding of his own "Godhood of Rebirth" and his control over the "Law of Reincarnation" reached a completely new level. The thin veil separating him from becoming a first-level god seemed to have become even thinner, awaiting only the right opportunity for him to achieve his goal naturally.

The path of cultivation emphasizes a balance between exertion and relaxation. Prolonged, in-depth analysis is a tremendous drain on the mind and spirit, even for a god. Harosa clearly felt a weariness originating from the depths of his soul.

"It's time." He stood up, his gaze fixed on the hazy sky of the divine realm, as if he could penetrate the barriers of space and see the ruins of the demon plane after its destruction.

He was very curious about the final fate of that crazy woman who self-destructed (Tong) and that unlucky angel god (Qian Renxue).

Especially that divine artifact, the Angelic Holy Sword! Did it survive the self-destruction? Even if it was just a fragment—

A glint of light flashed in Harosa's eyes. Risk often comes with opportunity. That ruin, which had just witnessed the self-destruction of a peak-level god, might be a death trap for other gods, but for him, who held life and death in his hands and was unafraid of death, it might very well be a treasure trove!

"It's time to go out and have a look."

With a thought, Harossa's profound gate to the underworld slowly opened before him once more. Behind the gate lay a scene of chaos, destruction, and the unknown—the realm of demons. He stepped inside, his figure vanishing into the gray mists of the realm of the dead.