Chapter Thirty-Seven: The World-Calming Divine Domain

Domain of Buried Gods.

The shattered land, barren mountains standing eternally at the edge of endless void, and the countless cold bodies strewn across the cracked earth bore testament to the gods interred in this domain.

Suddenly, a resonance rippled through the space. The cold bodies glimmered with myriad hues, and in a fleeting moment, they soared skyward, a force oppressive enough to crush the heavens descending with them.

Shadowy figures of varying forms floated out from the icy corpses—some radiating holy, inviolable majesty, others exuding demonic power and tyrannical presence. The roars of gods and demons stirred the void into trembling, their souls screaming in fury as they charged toward the heavens, as if seeking to pierce the void and reach the furthest, most distant end.

Outside the domain, an old shepherd still sat upon a stone, gazing absently at his dozen scrawny sheep. His eyes remained clouded and lifeless, as if all vitality had faded, giving him the appearance of a soulless man.

His withered body trembled slightly; he straightened his bent back, and in those murky eyes, a drop of golden brilliance fell like ink into darkness, blooming outward, quickly spreading to the edges, a divine light piercing toward the heart of the domain.

“Eons have not erased your wills—this world cannot simply wither away in peace, it seems. Ah... What is it that I seek? Perhaps I should follow their example, dissolve into the void and roam in freedom.”

The old man slowly rose to his feet, staggering toward the boundary monument at the edge of the realm. At first, his steps seemed so faltering that one might expect him to fall at any moment, but as he moved, though as slow as a snail, the distance he crossed appeared to traverse both time and space. Two steps brought him right before the ancient stone tablet, as if the space between them had suddenly collapsed, overlapping in that instant and creating such an illusion.

Gazing at the weathered stone, the old man’s deeply wrinkled face revealed a trace of desolation. After a long, silent contemplation, he extended a withered hand to gently touch the cold surface, feeling its chill seep into him.

He lifted his gaze once more toward the depths of the domain, pressed his palm firmly against the tablet, and sighed, “Eternal resolve, yet in a single moment, names are lost to time. Let what has slumbered and faded remain sealed in dust. Let the realm be suppressed…”

Light flowed from the old man’s hand, permeating the stone. In the next moment, the ancient tablet’s surface began to flake away, until every layer was stripped by the radiant energy, revealing the jade-green core beneath. Now the entire monument appeared both ancient and imposing, enveloped in a swirling aura of nine colors. A primordial weight and desolation spread forth, and the old man’s eyes sparkled with vitality, his spirit revived, as if he had become a different, younger man.

“Go…”

With a wave of his hand, the monument surged with nine-colored light, its wild and ancient aura subduing all before it. With a thunderous roar, it rose from the earth and shot straight into the sky.

Ascending to the heavens, the nine-colored radiance illuminated the vault of the sky. The words “Domain of Buried Gods” vanished from its surface, replaced by two archaic, solemn characters emerging from the stone, spinning and floating amidst the divine light.

“Suppress…” The old man stood below, gazing at the stone tablet amidst the celestial brilliance, and uttered the command.

The jade monument trembled, and the divine light vanished into the void. When it appeared again, it stood at the resting place of gods and demons within the domain. The angry, howling souls became instantly calm at the appearance of the boundary-suppressing tablet. Their bodies quivered and expressions shifted from rage to reverence; all raised their right fists to their chests, bowing deeply in respect, murmuring words unknown.

Had Leng Tian witnessed this, he would be utterly astonished—these god and demon titans, dead countless ages ago, producing such an earth-shaking scene in death. Their reverence for the tablet would make one doubt that they had truly died, instead believing they slumbered here for some purpose, waiting…

The two ancient characters expanded instantly, covering the entire sky, as if traversing eternity. It was a nameless majesty, transcending all existence. The ultimate manifestation of authority, divorced from the shackles of power and law, reigning above the rules of the realm. No energy emanated, yet it suppressed all.

Under this influence, countless souls of gods and demons seemed to undergo a spiritual ascension, washing away their desire to break free. All became tranquil, returning peacefully to their bodies.

Everything reverted to its original state. The bodies of gods and demons lay across the earth, unchanged through the ages. The monument radiated divine brilliance, its jade form solemn and dignified. The ancient characters shrank, returning to the stone. The nine-colored light receded, once again absorbed, and the jade boundary tablet resumed its previous weathered appearance, with the inscription “Domain of Buried Gods” still engraved, old and mottled, devoid of any gleam.

The old man, stooped, appeared in the void. The boundary tablet shrank to a mere three meters, circling him as he stared intently toward the distant darkness at the edge of the land. With a single step, he vanished, taking the tablet with him.

At the domain’s deepest heart, the elder stood in endless void, gazing at the vast, cold bodies floating nearby, alongside rusted divine weapons. His wrinkles seemed to deepen as he surveyed the scene.

He took a step forward, appearing in an impossibly distant part of the void. Then another step, each stride spanning the entire continent of Red Peak. If the continent’s supreme cultivators witnessed this, their souls would surely tremble in awe.

Those who had achieved the level of Saint could manipulate basic spatial laws for short-range teleportation, but compared to the old man, they were as clumsy as children learning to walk. Their teleportation relied on divine sense to communicate with space, enabling short leaps. Yet every step the old man took seemed to press upon the pulse of space itself, as if it were a mere artifact at his command—no matter the distance, space would instantaneously deliver him via the shortest path.

Thus, the elder, hunched and slow, wandered through the endless void. Amidst the void, not only were there countless corpses of giant beasts, but also colossal bodies of titanic gods, clad in rough armor covering vital areas, the rest of their bodies exposed.

In the distance, a storm of void swept up the floating divine weapons, ravaging the area, its sharp blades even slicing the fabric of space, leaving narrow fissures. Unfamiliar energies, unknown to any warrior, seeped out of these cracks into the void.

Sensing this intrusion, the elder’s eyes flashed; his divine sense condensed into a spinning drill, piercing the vast distance to strike the raging storm. With a single blow, the storm dissipated, and the scattered divine weapons were hurled deep into the void, once again suspended in silence.

The elder’s tangible divine sense, after shattering the storm, transformed into an immense hand, gently brushing across the narrow fissures. With this simple gesture, the cracks were miraculously restored.

Having finished, the elder resumed his slow walk through the endless void.

Even with his terrifying spatial mobility, it took a long time to reach the end of the void, where he stopped, stooped, gazing ahead at an immense palace complex rising from a broken continent—a cluster of ancient palaces.

After a time, he continued, heading for the rear of the shattered continent. Beyond the palace, his vision was filled with endless debris of fragmented landmasses. Fragments everywhere, some still bearing traces of cities and buildings, scattered throughout the void. Amid the ruins, pale bones could be glimpsed, and upon closer inspection, the whitened remains belonged to ordinary mortals—yet after countless years in the void, they had not turned to dust.

The elder, seeing all this, fell into reminiscence. His eyes revealed emotions shifting from joy to disappointment, from despair to hope, every feeling played out within his gaze, ultimately replaced by helpless resignation.

He drew a deep breath, his facial wrinkles quivering as if anger was concealed to the extreme, trembling on the verge of eruption.

He stepped forward, passing through the region, and before him appeared a wall of light, its glow dim, coloring nothing in the dusky atmosphere.

Approaching the wall, he found densely arranged runes engraved upon it, shifting and rearranging at speeds beyond the eye, forming complex patterns. Any cultivator versed in ancient arrays would be overwhelmed with excitement, for each configuration was a lost divine formation from antiquity, coveted by every faction on the continent.

Within this wall, formations changed endlessly, containing every renowned ancient array—traps, killing formations, illusions, all the mysteries of formations were embedded here.

The elder walked to the spots where points of light shimmered, and in his hand appeared stones of various colors, each the size of a fist. At every light point, he pressed a stone into place, repeating this process patiently.

There were nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine light points. He produced as many stones, and though the number was vast, he completed the task within the time it took to steep a pot of tea.

The stones in his hand, varied in hue, appeared ordinary but were as coveted as the arrays themselves—“Divine Origin Stones.” Each color represented a law of divine power, treasures sought by all Saints, a means to ascend to the divine realm under the constraints of the present world.

Having finished, the elder stood with hands clasped behind his back, watching as the wall regained its brilliance, masking its former dimness, and murmured, “The once glorious Divine Domain can no longer appear before the people—how ironic that is.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

Outside the domain, the old man reappeared, waving his hand as the boundary tablet returned to its original position. He walked back to the smooth stone, sat, and resumed his former state: quietly seated, cloudy eyes gazing at the dozen scrawny sheep grazing.

Martial Peak 37—Chapter Thirty-Seven: Suppressing the Realm. Divine Domain update complete.