Mo Wen looked in the direction Linghu Lan had left, where a crack had once appeared, but was now closing at a visible speed.
There is no way out in this world.
Mo Wen felt a little disappointed. He sighed silently and looked at the ground beneath his feet.
...
Deep underground.
The massacre continues.
The entire cemetery shook.
The numbers on everyone's arms flashed red, accompanying them ever since they entered the mysterious island. These numbers were only lit during teleportation; otherwise, they remained dim.
The red numbers that now illuminate have become a beacon of death. No matter where they hide, the murderous red light that permeates the tomb passages can always accurately locate them through the red numbers on their arms.
Someone painfully cut off the piece of flesh with the number engraved on it, only to find that the number stubbornly remained on the bloodied flesh.
Someone had severed their arm; surely the red light wouldn't find them this time? But numbers quietly appeared on their foreheads.
Some people have gone completely mad; they've been mad ever since they came to the island.
Some people picked up the butcher's knife, wanting to kill enough before they died.
The decline of humanity comes with extraordinary force.
After a while, the entire cemetery, after a period of chaos and fighting, fell silent again, and the swaying palace returned to its solemn and dignified state, as stable as Mount Tai.
If Mo Wen were to come down from above at this moment, he would see that all the corpses had been pulled into the ground by the suddenly growing roots, with blood mixed with the soil.
All the stolen life books flew back to their original narrow passage from all directions.
The tombstone was returned to its place, once again covering the life story.
Each person's life record now contains a definitive cause of death: death at the Divine Tomb Death Line.
Everything was so clean and solemn that it seemed as if it had been silent for a thousand years and no one had ever been here.
The battle is over!
...
Outside.
The dark clouds in the sky dissipated, and the red light that had been strolling through the clouds gradually disappeared into the depths of the clouds.
Mo Wen knew that everyone except him was dead.
He is the last person in this world.
A powerful and tragic emotion swept over him.
He remained silent for a while, then looked around at this new world again; it was a world that belonged to him alone.
He took out the magic ball from his pocket and frowned as he looked at it for a long time.
This was given to me by Mo Yin.
He had an innate trust in Mo Yin, a trust built on the brink of death, making it exceptionally strong.
Before today, he had never seen a magic ball and did not know how to use it. He instinctively put his hand on the magic ball.
A flash of light from the magic orb confirmed his identity.
Countless pieces of information flooded into his mind, instantly opening the door to a new world for Mo Wen.
This really is a world of cultivation!
Mo Wen's heart pounded; this world was completely different from the outside world.
He steadied himself and calmed down to receive the inheritance from the energy ball.
The energy ball shone brightly.
Mo Wen discovered that if he truly learned this technique, once he had mastered it, he would become the master of this small world and could freely come and go.
This was truly an unexpected delight. Mo Wen suppressed his excitement and opened his eyes.
Suddenly, an ancient and weathered voice rang in his ears: Would you be willing to be the guardian of the gods' tombs?
A gravedigger?
Before Mo Wen could answer, information about countless divine tombs flooded his mind: it was an epic of the gods!
Mo Wen remained silent for a long time, but after a while, his voice rang out again.
"Would you be willing to be the guardian of the gods' tombs?"
Mo Wenleng pondered for a moment, then decisively replied, "I'm willing!"
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