The Last Sentinel

Chen Nan remained silent. His memorial tablet suddenly emitted a bright light, and visible golden ripples spread out in all directions. A magnificent phantom image of gods and demons enveloped the entire area, and powerful ripples of qi trembled majestically. Even the laws of time became as fragile as paper at this moment, utterly vulnerable.

"What is this?" Ye Feng looked up at the magnificent divine and demonic diagram. "The number one treasure of the Tomb of Gods, the Taiji Divine and Demonic Diagram, a relic of Dugu Baitian!"

"It's truly magnificent and spectacular! No wonder it's hailed as a living tomb of gods."

"Even a mere projection is enough to shake this world, spanning countless universes!"

Before Ye Feng finished speaking, the surrounding space suddenly opened up. The originally cramped side room instantly transformed into the size of a football field. Black and white floor tiles were densely arranged, and golden dragon pillars rose into the sky. The memorial tablets of the stepfather and stepmother transformed into phantom statues and totems floating on the walls.

In the dimly lit atmosphere of the venue, a hundred-meter-long golden table appeared in the middle, with chairs appearing on both sides.

"Child." Chen Nan's illusory image hung high on the wall. "This is a chair that Ye Hei made for you using a corner of the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin, to suppress the ominous signs on your body. Sit down! This is your coming-of-age gift from your father, Ye."

Chen Nan's gaze fell upon the head of the long table, where a magnificent throne stood.

The black, naturally formed stone base, its age unknown, is ten meters high and covered with marks from axe cuts and carvings.

The three-year-old child's hand gently patted the stone armrest, deep and unfathomable, with an indescribable coldness. In just an instant, Ye Feng's heart became clear and lucid. The next moment, Ye Feng felt the ominous sign within his body, and that aura was rapidly dissipating.

The moment Ye Feng sat down again, the constraints of time power around him shattered, and the twenty-seven-year-old silver-haired Ye Feng returned. His right eye was golden, his left eye was pale, and his angular face was cold yet warm, no longer as extreme as the Sword Qi Great Wall before.

Ye Feng had just sat down in the head chair when the background music faintly echoed from the surrounding golden dragon pillars. It was Luo Feng's background music, "Dreaming of the Western Continent."

"All sounds are played on the flute; I rest my chin on my hand and listen to the autumn waters, asking the mayflies."

"Since the Big Dipper cannot be measured in the vast darkness, how can one believe that longing is the most tender thing..."

Looking at the chairs around them, one after another, illusory figures stepped out.

Some of them carried the phantom image of an octagonal magic tower on their backs, deep and mysterious.

Some of them have ten pairs of magnificent golden wings on their backs, making them sacred and inviolable.

Some were shrouded in demonic energy, their feet bound in shackles, their faces tattooed, their fangs bared, exuding an indescribable murderous aura.

There was a simple, unadorned warrior in a cloth robe, with slightly dark skin, who gave a hearty laugh.

An elegant sword immortal, carrying a celestial sword, gracefully approaches, a wicked smile playing on his lips. His peach blossom eyes exude an indescribable ambiguity, even his gaze towards the dog is filled with affection.

A doctor in a white coat adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his face calm and composed.

The half-body prosthetic robot scanned the entire area with its mechanical eyes, its mechanical parts on its arms glowing faintly, and its mechanical fingers tapping the table with a crisp sound.

A gentleman, shrouded in black mist and with an ominous aura emanating from his eyes, stepped out from the distorted light and shadow, tapping his walking stick.

……

Finally, everyone arrived.

Ye Feng stood in the main seat, with four people on each side, all of whom were old acquaintances from the chat group.

On the left: Hongmeng's First Deepest Affection, Wuji Demon Lord, Immortal God of Law, Master of Machinery.

On the right: a martial artist of the sixteenth realm, a ten-winged archangel, a medical saint, and the Eye of the End of Dharma.

In an instant, an unprecedented momentum surged into the vast venue.

The silver-haired sentinel at the head of the group exuded heroic spirit and imposing aura. To his left and right, powerful figures stood in neat rows: the Demon Lord smoked a cigarette, the Sword Immortal wiped his sword sheath, the Master of Machines' eyes gleamed, and the Healer stretched his joints...

From the rear, Chen Nan's voice was distant and resonant, "We cannot stay here any longer, so we will leave this main hall to you as a temporary meeting room. We entrust the matters of our hometown to you all."

Upon hearing Chen Nan's voice, the nine people present all stood up and bowed.

"Respectfully bidding farewell to Third Father!"

"Respectfully bidding farewell to Ancestor Chen."

In the vast, empty arena, the powerful figures who had attained eternal proof withdrew their divine senses, as if they had never existed.

Ye Feng and the others took their seats, and the atmosphere became much more cheerful and relaxed.

Without those powerful figures who transcend the chat group and have become eternally certified present, everyone here is an acquaintance, a close friend who has been chatting in the chat group for years, so there is no sense of unfamiliarity at all.

"Is everyone here?" Hongmeng's First Affectionate One stood up first, acting as if he were back home, "Nine people, hmm, where's the Immortal King?"

The Demon Lord Wuji banged on the table and said, "Have you forgotten? The Immortal King has been stripped of his title and can't come for the time being. He asked me to attend the meeting in his place."

"That's right!" Hongmeng said smugly to Ye Feng, "That Immortal King is constantly being sealed off, he's really unlucky. Let's not talk about him anymore! Ye Feng, what do you say? We're brothers, we'll keep our word, we'll really reunite with you!"

Ye Feng laughed, "It's great that everyone came as promised. Although there were some misunderstandings in the middle, they have all been clarified in front of the Ancestor. Let's put the past behind us and not hold grudges!"

"Alright! Let bygones be bygones, and look to the future!"

"What a fine example of letting bygones be bygones! Ye Feng's trip back here wasn't in vain!"

"Strictly speaking, everyone here should call Ye Feng 'Ancestor,' since Ye Feng was born during the Zhuolu Divine War, making him over five thousand years old. We are all his juniors!"

"Come on, don't make the group owner sound so old. He's only twenty-seven, not even thirty yet! He's going to marry a whole harem of concubines in the future. What 'five thousand years old' or 'ancestor' nonsense!"

"To be honest, I think the current Holy Maiden of the Nuwa Holy Land is of pretty good quality! What's her name again, Ling'er?"

"Cong Ling'er? I've heard of her. Her family is very powerful; they're an old, established noble family within the ancient imperial faction! If Ye Feng can get close to Cong Ling'er, it'll be a sure-fire way to make money!"

"Is Cong Ling'er that powerful? Don't you even know the new group leader's background? Her father is Xuan Yuanfeng, the invincible warrior of the Yanhuang tribe, and her mother is the Holy Maiden of the Huanlong Clan. Both her parents are peak heroes of the divine war. Can Cong Ling'er's family compare to these two from the Zhuolu divine war? Why marry Cong Ling'er? Marry her mother! It's said her mother's talent surpasses even the ancestor Nuwa!"

"..."

Ye Feng rested his chin on his hands, looking at his old buddies in front of him with a strange and helpless expression on his face, suddenly feeling a sense of déjà vu as if he had returned to his college dormitory.

I had assumed that all the visitors were senior figures and giants, and that their speeches would be grand and eloquent, concerning strategic vision and vision.

Who knows, they actually started having a crazy chat with the holy maiden of the Nuwa Holy Land of the Merit Sect.

Damn, it's true that no matter what industry men are in, when they get together, they all end up talking about beautiful women.

Ye Feng didn't interrupt everyone's enjoyment. He simply leaned against the coffin seat, feeling the ominous curse aura within his body being suppressed, and an unprecedented sense of comfort spreading throughout his body.

The Red Hair Curse cannot be cured, and even the mighty Emperor Ye Tiandi with his Great Accomplished Holy Body is helpless against it.

The throne forged from bronze meteorite iron at one corner of the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin, while unable to cure the Red Hair Curse, can suppress it.

From now on, as long as Ye Feng carries the throne with him, he can cure any ominous signs simply by sitting down wherever the curse is triggered, which is extremely convenient.