More than ten days after the nineteen attacking King Lords were slain, the various Human Race strongholds finally reached the source of the darkness.
Deep in the void ahead, an immense and dense ink hue blanketed everything, stretching beyond the bounds of sight. The ink coalesced into an ocean of darkness, as though it had existed here since the dawn of eternity.
Beneath that silent surface, every one of them felt a lethal threat. Even from such a great distance, the mere sight of it was profoundly unsettling.
The evil energy within that Ink Sea seemed capable of swallowing the very mind and soul.
From stronghold after stronghold, pairs of eyes fixed upon the Ink Sea. Every face was grave—even the Ancestors were no exception.
This was the source of the Ink Clan?
No one had given them an answer, but the moment they laid eyes on the Ink Sea, they all understood. This was unquestionably the Ink Clan's origin.
Somewhere within this source, the Ink Clan's Mother Nest might well be hidden.
When the expedition had begun, no one had imagined the Ink Clan's source would be so impossibly remote, and even less had they imagined it would look like this.
When Ink Clan cultivators fell in battle, the Ink Force within their bodies would dissipate. If too many fell on a single battlefield, the accumulated Ink Force would form Ink Clouds—or even an Ink Sea.
Most of the Human Race warriors had seen such things before.
But the Ink Seas they had witnessed prior to this were nothing compared to this. The difference was that of clouds and mud.
This was the true Ink Sea—boundless, immeasurably vast.
The so-called Ink Seas they had seen before were, at best, small ponds.
Most Human Race warriors focused only on the vast expanse of the Ink Sea, but the Ancestors of each stronghold vaguely sensed that beyond its perimeter, there seemed to be something else entirely.
Something exceedingly well-hidden—something that would go entirely undetected without careful examination.
Within Myriad Demon Pass, the Ancestor of Myriad Demon Heaven activated the World-Destroying Demon Eye, piercing through illusion.
Within Divine Feather Pass, the Ancestor of Divine Feather Blessed Land activated the Eye of True Vision, seeing through the void.
The Ancestors of the other strongholds did the same. At the Ninth Order level, they had all cultivated some manner of eye technique, though their levels of mastery varied.
Now, with every manner of eye technique activated, the concealed thing beyond the darkness was instantly etched into the Ancestors' vision.
Every Ancestor's expression shifted.
They saw that beyond the perimeter of the Ink Sea, there existed an enormous restriction—a formation that had been shaped into a cage, enveloping and enclosing the entire Ink Sea.
It was precisely this cage of restrictions that had confined the Ink Sea within, preventing the vast, boundless expanse of ink from spreading outward.
It was hard to imagine how far the Ink Sea would have extended without this restriction. Perhaps the entire void would have been consumed, leaving no ground for the Human Race to stand upon.
What an incomprehensibly grand undertaking!
Such a restriction could not have formed naturally—it was the work of someone's hand. Who had laid down such a restriction here, confining the Ink Sea? And when had it been created?
Even the Ancestors had never heard of such a thing.
Moreover, certain traces remaining on the restriction were obviously ancient—so ancient that many of the restriction techniques were beyond even their ability to fathom.
But before the Ancestors could study it for long, their attention was suddenly drawn to somewhere in the void.
There, a white-haired, white-bearded elder of great age sat cross-legged in the emptiness, gazing at them with a smile on his face.
Every Ancestor's expression changed.
They had not sensed this person's presence at all before. He seemed to have appeared there from thin air.
With over a hundred Ancestors' combined awareness covering the area, it should have been impossible for anyone to approach undetected. He had not suddenly appeared—he had been there all along. He had simply used some method to make everyone overlook him entirely.
In other words, if he did not wish to be found, the Human Race had no hope of detecting his presence.
This elder... was powerful. So powerful that even the Ancestors felt a tremor in their hearts.
And though he sat there with a smile, every Ancestor—regardless of direction—felt that he was facing them directly.
It was a strange sensation, and also the supreme application of power.
No fluctuation of energy could be felt from his person, yet in that moment, every Ninth Order Human Race cultivator came to a sudden, clear realization: this man was the owner of that jade hand—the very same person who had helped the Human Race Ninth Orders escape from the Ink Nest space years ago!
Judging by this alone, he bore no ill will toward the Human Race.
And his origins were clearly Human Race as well.
Without a word of exchange, Ancestor after Ancestor stepped forth from their respective strongholds, converging toward the old man's location.
Though they had previously received his favor—allowing multiple captured Ninth Orders to escape—they did not dare let their guard down until they had confirmed his background and identity.
With over a hundred Ninth Orders mobilizing together, even if he harbored any intentions, he would have to think twice.
As if reading their thoughts, the old man's smile took on a meaningfully deeper quality.
But in the depths of his eyes, a barely perceptible flicker of disappointment passed.
He had clearly seen the arrival of the Human Race's various strongholds. From each one, he had even recognized the handiwork of Duan.
Among the ten from that era, Duan had possessed a talent in artifact refinement that none could match.
The cage that confined Ink had been personally masterminded by Duan, with the assistance of the other nine.
Of course, Duan had ultimately merged his body with the restriction, becoming part of the cage before his death—just like his eight old companions, his remains had long since vanished entirely.
Those Human Race strongholds could not have been personally forged by Duan, nor had Duan ever refined such things. But Cang remembered that Duan had taken on several disciples in those days, who had inherited a measure of his true teachings.