Life span plundered, I became a detective and achieved immortality

Chapter 1001 Tomb of the 7th Grade True Immortal

Time flies, and eight million years have passed like sand slipping through one's fingers, quietly passing by in the flowing mist of the Cloud Dragon Immortal City. The mist seems thicker than ever before, entwining the mountains and the immortal river, yet it cannot hold back the footsteps of time.

Thousands of miles away, at Green Willow Manor.

Qingyuan Sanxian stood atop the highest pavilion, his white robes fluttering in the mountain wind, like a white sail about to set sail, ready to face unknown storms at any moment. The white hair at his temples had turned a few more shades of frost, reflecting the newly etched lines at the corners of his eyes, revealing the melancholy of time and the resolute determination of someone who had made a desperate gamble.

He gazed in the direction of Jiuling Manor, his eyes piercing through layers of immortal forests and clouds. The last glimmer of hope in his eyes gradually dissipated like a candle flickering in the wind, eventually turning into a faint disappointment that settled in his eyes, as if covered by a layer of indelible ash.

"It seems that Fellow Daoist Su Mo is truly determined not to go to Yunling Immortal Tomb." Qingyuan Loose Immortal muttered to himself, his voice broken by the wind, like crumpled pieces of paper drifting in the void. "Alas! Well, everyone has their own ambitions, and we cannot force them."

He sighed softly, his fingertips unconsciously stroking an ancient jade pendant hanging from his waist—a near-celestial artifact he had acquired by chance in his early years, and his greatest reliance for his upcoming journey to the Cloud Feather Immortal Tomb.

"I hope that Fellow Daoist Su Mo won't regret it after eight hundred Chaos Eras."

Eight hundred chaotic eras, a full trillions of years. For mortals, this is an eternity beyond their imagination; for stars, it is enough to experience several cycles of birth and death; but for immortal cultivators like them, whose lifespan is measured in cosmic eras, it is nothing at all, just like ten days or half a month for ordinary mortals, passing in the blink of an eye.

Having missed this opportunity at the Cloud Feather Immortal Tomb, it would be a pipe dream to find another chance to break through the threshold of Quasi-Celestial Immortal and strive for the coveted Celestial Immortal realm within the short span of eight hundred Chaos Eras.

When the horn of the Nine Realms Immortal War sounds, there will be only one fate awaiting his old friend, the "Ninth-Rank Void Immortal"—to become cannon fodder for those powerful forces, forcibly incorporated into the vanguard, and on the front lines of the Nine Realms battlefield, facing overwhelming attacks, to turn into a wisp of ashes that no one will remember, with even his soul barely remaining.

He shook his head slightly, suppressing the fleeting worry in his heart. Everyone has their own path; he can barely take care of himself, so why should he be sentimental about others?

Then, without further hesitation, Qingyuan Sanxian moved, his white robes spreading like the wings of a wild goose, stirring up a gentle breeze, and resolutely stepped out of the protective array of Qingliu Manor.

A ripple of pale golden light spread behind him, swaying gently like a reflection on water before settling back to normal. He stepped on a condensed cloud of energy, pushing his Ninth-Rank Void Immortal speed to its limit, transforming into a white streak of light as he sped off towards the southeast—the meeting place he had agreed upon with the other Ninth-Rank Void Immortals.

......

At Jiuling Mountain Villa, in the center of Linghu Lake, a small boat, about ten feet long, drifts quietly.

The hull is carved from the Chaos Divine Wood, its color as deep as the night sky, yet it gleams with a warm luster, with faint stardust flowing between the wood grain, as if a piece of starry sky has been embedded in it.

A low table sits at the bow of the boat, on which a cup of warm tea is steaming. The aroma of the tea mingles with the moisture from the lake, creating a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere that envelops the small boat in a surreal glow, making it impossible to distinguish between reality and illusion.

Su Mo leaned back on the soft couch in the boat, his fingertips lightly tapping his knees with a slow, gentle rhythm, as if echoing the ripples on the lake's surface, or perhaps deducing some kind of Dao rhythm. As if sensing something, he raised his eyes and looked towards the southeast direction where the Azure Origin Immortal had sped away, his gaze calm and undisturbed.

"This parting may be forever."

Su Mo sighed softly, her voice so faint that only she could hear it, and it was gently carried away by the breeze on the lake.

A mere ninth-rank illusory immortal, without the protection of a true immortal or the concealment of heavenly secrets by supreme treasures, was clearly out of the question of the fate of Qingyuan Scattered Immortal, who was a fifth-rank perfect true immortal. The trajectory of his fate was as clear as the lines on his palm, with no secrets whatsoever.

He had long seen through it all—once they went to the Cloud Feather Immortal Tomb, all the fates of the Green Origin Loose Immortals pointed directly to death, without exception.

The remaining restrictions in the tomb, the hidden evil spirits, the celestial beings who entered the tomb, and even the schemes and plots launched by fellow cultivators to seize opportunities... one by one, there was not a single time anyone could leave Yunling Immortal Tomb alive.

Unless he intervenes at this moment and forcibly reverses the other party's fate with the power of a true immortal.

Su Mo paused for a moment, a slight ripple flashing in his eyes, like a pebble thrown into a lake, but it quickly subsided, returning to the calm of an ancient well, and he immediately abandoned the idea of ​​helping.

He was just a neighbor with whom he had a mediocre relationship; he had no interest in being the other person's caretaker, covering for them in every way. This time they saved him, but what about the Nine Realms Immortal War eight hundred Chaos Eras later? Did they expect him to intervene again?

The path was chosen by Qingyuan Sanxian himself. Since he decided to venture into Yunling Immortal Tomb and gamble on that sliver of hope, he should bear the corresponding risks. If he dies, it can only be said that this tribulation was destined to be his; it was due to his own lack of strength and bad luck, and he cannot blame anyone else.

Su Mo withdrew his gaze, returning it to the lake's surface, where his calm, unwavering eyes were reflected, as if the fleeting sigh from just moments before had never occurred. He picked up the teacup on the low table, took a small sip, and the refreshing aroma of the tea soothed the brief ripples in his heart.

......

Fifty million years have passed in the blink of an eye.

The Linghu Lake at Jiuling Mountain Villa remains as vast and blue as ever. On the stone table in the pavilion in the middle of the lake, freshly brewed immortal tea is steaming, almost exactly the same as it was 58 million years ago. Only the ancient pine tree beside the pavilion has grown a few more rings, becoming even more vigorous and upright, like a silent old man, witnessing the passage of time.

Inside the pavilion in the middle of the lake, Su Mo sat on a stone bench, pouring himself a drink, still wearing his blue robe.

Suddenly, his hand holding the cup paused slightly, his brows furrowing as if he had sensed some distant stirring. Then, he slowly raised his eyes, a flash of divine light appearing in them. That light pierced through the thin mist outside the pavilion, through the layers of light curtains protecting the Cloud Dragon Immortal City, and broke through the void barrier of tens of thousands of eons, like an invisible searchlight, landing precisely on a magnificent ancient void tomb.

It floated in the chaotic airflow, its body constructed of dark golden immortal stones, the ancient runes engraved on it shimmering with a faint spiritual light, seemingly telling of the glory of antiquity. It was surrounded by layers of restrictions, and from time to time, yin energy, like venomous snakes, would wriggle and hiss, exuding a chilling aura of death.

Su Mo ignored all of this and focused his gaze directly on a lake that stretched for tens of thousands of miles outside the ancient tomb.

The lake water was as black as ink, exuding a chilling stillness, without a ripple or a trace of life, as if it were an entrance to the underworld.

In the southeast corner of the lake, a broken jade pendant is slowly sinking to the bottom. The cloud patterns on the pendant have long been blurred by the lake water, and the spiritual light it originally contained has been completely exhausted, leaving only a dull and lifeless stone. It is the quasi-celestial artifact that Qingyuan Sanxian wore back then.

The next second...

Su Mo picked up the teacup on the table and slowly poured the emerald green immortal tea into the ground. The moment the tea touched the ground, it did not seep into the cracks in the stone, but instead turned into a wisp of green smoke, rising up like a slender serpent, winding its way into the distant void, as if conveying something to some dissipated soul.

"Fellow Daoist Qingyuan, may you have a safe journey."

His voice was calm and even, yet carried a faint trace of melancholy, like a farewell to a period of time, a final goodbye to a neighbor from trillions of years ago.

A gentle breeze swept by outside the pavilion in the middle of the lake, scattering the tea smoke. The jade pendant, which had sunk to the bottom of the Netherworld Lake, seemed to sense something. Before being completely swallowed by darkness, it trembled slightly and then returned to eternal silence.

......

Time flies, and three hundred chaotic eras have passed quietly like a rushing galaxy. The Cangling Sea is no longer as peaceful as it once was; the air is filled with a restless tension, as if a storm is brewing, and even the sunlight that pierces through the mist carries a dull golden hue.

As the Nine Realms Immortal War drew ever closer, an invisible pressure, like a dark cloud, weighed heavily on every inch of territory, making even breathing difficult. The once peaceful True Immortal forces now bared their long-dormant fangs, like ravenous prehistoric beasts, their crimson eyes scanning their surroundings. They frantically ravaged the surrounding Celestial Immortal forces, plundering resources, recruiting cultivators, and doing everything in their power to enhance their own strength—Celestial Immortal-level magical treasures were forcibly confiscated, elixirs were looted, rare and precious materials were uprooted, and even immortal disciples with special physiques became targets for forced recruitment; any resistance would bring annihilation.

In an instant, war raged across the Cangling Sea, with immortal light and blood light intertwining. The once stable power structure was completely shattered, like broken glass. Countless Celestial Immortal clans and forces were destroyed under the iron hooves of True Immortals. Sects were razed to the ground, their lineages severed, and the mournful cries of immortal souls were so shrill that they could be faintly heard even across billions of years of void, sending chills down one's spine.

Even the once prosperous and stable Cloud Dragon Immortal City was shrouded in a terrifying oppressive atmosphere, as if an invisible hand were choking it. The number of patrolling Void Immortal Guards inside and outside the city was more than ten times greater than usual. Clad in armor and wielding sharp blades, their expressions solemn, their eyes as sharp as eagles, they scanned every corner. The checks at the city gates were increasingly stringent; cultivators' identity tokens were repeatedly verified, and their storage bags were forcibly inspected. Anyone found even slightly suspicious was stopped, interrogated, and imprisoned in the Immortal Prison.

The once bustling markets have become much quieter, with stalls reduced by more than half. Most cultivators are staying in their residences, afraid of being arrested by the patrolling Void Immortal Guards and getting into trouble for no reason.

However, within the Nine Spirits Manor, everything remained as usual. The Spirit Lake still rippled with turquoise water, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds; the pavilions remained ancient and elegant, exuding the fragrance of time; even the ethereal energy in the air carried its former tranquility, fresh and pure. Occasionally, a spirit bird would perch on a branch and sing, its voice clear and melodious, without a trace of tension. Here, the tense and oppressive atmosphere outside the manor seemed to be separated by an invisible barrier, forming two completely different worlds—one noisy like purgatory, the other tranquil like a paradise.

"A seventh-grade True Immortal's tomb, excellent! Excellent! Excellent! I've finally found a decent treasure land. This may be the opportunity for my breakthrough!"

......