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Because the village before him had vanished.

Or rather, it had never truly existed at all.

What he had seen was merely an illusion, an elaborate formation conjured to deceive the eyes.

The eight trigrams began to shift and revolve.

The village faded away, replaced by an endless tide of Water Beasts stretching as far as the eye could see.

From horizon to horizon, nothing but roaring beasts filled the land.

Even the sound of their howls was enough to make one’s eardrums rupture.

“I don’t know who you are,” Xu Zimo said calmly, “but show yourself.”

“You were quite pleased with your slaughter beneath Fire Bane City, weren’t you?” a voice answered, echoing from all directions, its true source impossible to locate. “Today, let’s see how long you can keep killing. These Water Beasts are endless, I want to see how long you last.”

“I have no hostility toward you,” Xu Zimo replied. “There are simply some things I wish to understand.”

He had come in search of information about the Ancient Gods and did not wish to provoke unnecessary conflict.

“As for these Water Beasts, they shouldn’t pose much trouble for someone like you. A man who can create life itself wouldn’t bother with such trivialities.”

The disembodied voice went silent for a few moments before speaking again.

“Whatever your reasons, if you want to talk, first, break my formation.”

As the voice fell silent, thousands upon thousands of Water Beasts charged at once.

“To break your formation? That’s hardly difficult,” Xu Zimo said with a faint smile.

The Traceless Compass and the Heaven-Derivation Astrolabe began to orbit above his head.

With those two divine instruments, there was hardly a formation in existence that could withstand him.

He gripped his blade tightly. No matter how many Water Beasts surged forward, they were all cut down to nothing.

Though the beasts were said to be infinite, Xu Zimo’s headpiece continued to calculate rapidly.

At last, the compass indicated the key direction. Xu Zimo turned his gaze toward the location it pointed to and hurled his blade, Shadow Tyrant, forward.

It streaked through the air like lightning, vanishing and reappearing in an instant.

A thunderous crack resounded, something within the illusion shattered, and a corner of the great formation broke apart.

More and more beasts rushed to that breach, trying to keep him from approaching.

Even the one hidden in the shadows grew anxious.

A torrent of water burst forth, aiming straight for Xu Zimo’s compass to destroy it.

“I was waiting for that,” Xu Zimo said with a grin.

He waved his right hand, and Shadow Tyrant reversed course, returning and slicing toward the source of the torrent.

The force of the blade tore through heaven and earth.

The raging waters split apart, and somewhere in the void, it seemed to cut into a hidden being.

A muffled groan followed, and the formation began to crumble.

As Xu Zimo surveyed the scene, everything appeared as he had suspected, there had never been any village here.

All that existed was a desolate wasteland, endless and barren, littered with white bones.

Amidst the bleak landscape stood a single thatched hut, as lonely and fragile as a withered flower in winter.

Xu Zimo looked down; faint traces of blood stained the ground, leading toward the hut.

Step by step, he followed the trail, his blade circling at his side.

At last, he stood before the thatched house.

“Come out!” he commanded.

But no response came from within.

“If you won’t come out,” he warned, “then I’ll simply cut this hut down.”

Still, silence.

Xu Zimo raised Shadow Tyrant and slashed.

“Is this how you ask for favors?” an aged voice said suddenly.

The door creaked open.

First, a withered hand, skin clinging to bone, emerged from the darkness.

Then an old man in black robes stepped into view.

His entire face was concealed by his hood, revealing only a pair of weary, timeworn eyes.

A faint trickle of blood seeped from his chest, which he clutched with one hand.

“Young man,” the old man said hoarsely, “you’ve wounded me. Aren’t you afraid I’ll refuse your request?”

“You know what I’m here for?” Xu Zimo asked.

Few people, even in the Black Crow Dao Court, knew he sought the Ancient Gods.

“I don’t,” the old man said. “But since you tracked my Water Beasts here, you must have business with me.”

“I’m not looking for you,” Xu Zimo replied. “I’m looking for the one behind you.”

“There is no one behind me,” the old man said flatly, his eyes darkening. “I’ve been alone for a very long time.”

“No,” Xu Zimo said, shaking his head. “With your strength, you’re nowhere near capable of creating life. So tell me, does your master refuse to see me, or do you refuse to let me see him?”

The old man’s expression flickered, he hadn’t expected Xu Zimo to see through him so easily.

In a moment of inattention, he had revealed far too much.

“Boy, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” the old man snapped coldly. “If you have nothing else, leave.”

“No rush,” Xu Zimo smiled. “I’ll make sure you understand.”

With that, he swung his blade.

“Damn you!” the old man roared.

Behind him erupted torrents of pure Water Spirit Energy, one of the rarest forces in existence.

It was said that only deep within mountains, rivers, and lakes could even a trace of this essence be found.

To strip a land of its Water Spirit Energy was to render it lifeless forever.

And yet the amount surging from behind the old man was vast enough to shock even Xu Zimo.

“I had planned to spare you,” the old man growled, “but you’ve chosen your own death!”

“I find you more and more interesting,” Xu Zimo said, laughing.

Shadow Tyrant clashed against the torrents of Water Spirit Energy.

The power that struck him forced Xu Zimo back several steps, his sword arm trembling from the impact.

“Waterfall Marsh!” the old man cried, spreading his arms wide.

Behind him, a waterfall soared into the sky.

The rushing sound of water echoed all around.

Though this land had long been a wasteland, the lifeless soil now seemed to stir with renewal.

Grass began to sprout; dead trees pushed out tender green buds.

“To waste so much of my Water Spirit Energy on you, your death will be worth it!” the old man shouted furiously.

As the Water Spirit Energy surged toward him like a living tide, Xu Zimo had nowhere to dodge.

“Then I won’t bother dodging,” Xu Zimo said, laughing boldly.

Above his head appeared the Three Gates, and from his body erupted the blade intent of Eightfold Heaven-Split.

As the torrent of Water Spirit Energy swept over him, trying to strip his life away, the Three Gates rendered him momentarily invincible.

“Kill!” Xu Zimo roared.

The Heaven-Split blade intent tore through the sea of energy and slashed straight toward the old man’s head.

The old man’s face went pale; there was no time to escape.

The strike was faster than lightning, slicing through his brow and beyond.

A moment later, his head burst apart like a shattered gourd.

Yet Xu Zimo did not relax.

Because even as the old man’s head exploded, it immediately began to reform, flesh and bone knitting together once more.

“You can’t kill me,” the old man cackled madly. “I am immortal!”