An Egg

At this very moment, the news of the Great Emperor’s tomb being unearthed spread like wildfire, instantly sweeping across the entire Xuanhuang World!

Eastern Domain, Central Domain, Southern Domain, Northern Domain, Western Domain...

All five domains trembled!

Countless sects and forces, like sharks smelling blood, surged madly toward Huangzhou from all directions.

On Purple Bamboo Peak, Gu Changge sat casually on a stone bench, brow slightly furrowed, idly weighing an object in his hand.

It was an egg!

About the size of a fist, the egg was gray all over.

Its shell was smooth and cool to the touch, but beyond that, there was nothing extraordinary about it.

No flowing Dao rhythms, no divine radiance within, no rune markings, not even the faintest trace of spiritual energy.

Yet, despite all this, Gu Changge had exhausted every means at his disposal and still couldn’t see through it in the slightest.

He recalled the system prompt that rang in his mind that very morning:

“Congratulations, host, sign-in successful. You have obtained an egg.”

And that was it.

Just that one sentence, not even a single note or explanation—clean and infuriatingly concise.

This egg had simply appeared out of thin air in his hand.

Gu Changge was speechless.

He had signed in countless times before, receiving countless treasures, divine artifacts, techniques, and legacies.

But an egg as a reward? That was unprecedented.

“System, explain?” he asked silently in his mind.

“Ding! This item is an egg. Please explore its details yourself, host.”

The system’s response was as cold and mechanical as ever, utterly devoid of any useful information.

Gu Changge nearly choked on his own breath.

“I! Don’t! Even! Know! This! Is! An! Egg?!”

Even with his normally unshakable composure, he couldn’t help but roar inwardly.

He lowered his gaze to the utterly mundane yet stubbornly inscrutable object in his palm, a faint vein twitching at his temple.

Muttering softly, Gu Changge took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

His fingers released a trace of spiritual power; a pure and overwhelming energy poured into the egg like water sinking into the sea, yet not a ripple stirred.

His divine sense probed as if entering a void—no life force could be detected, nor could he pierce through the seemingly fragile eggshell.

He even dripped a drop of his origin blood infused with Dao principles onto it, but the drop simply rolled off, leaving the shell as smooth and flawless as before, without a single mark.

“Interesting,”

Gu Changge’s curiosity was piqued. He employed several secret arts to trace its origin and unravel its cause.

But the result was the same: this egg was nothing short of a perfect... egg!

It blocked all attempts at investigation, impervious to all methods.

After studying it for a while with no clue in sight, Gu Changge’s patience began to wear thin.

At his current realm and insight, there were very few things he couldn’t see through.

This blasted egg was one of them.

“Damn it…”

Gu Changge couldn’t help but curse under his breath.

His eyes sharpened, and with a sharp snap, a faint flame flickered to life in his palm, light as a feather yet containing the power to burn the heavens and boil the seas.

“This thing’s so weird, I don’t believe it. Let’s just roast it and see what happens.”

The imperial flame floated gently down toward the egg resting on the stone table.

The moment the flames touched the eggshell, there was no expected “sizzle,” nor any smell of burning.

The Chaotic Emperor Flame, powerful enough to incinerate all things, seemed to have met its nemesis. Like falling into a bottomless abyss, it fizzled out with a faint “hiss” and was extinguished.

Not even a wisp of smoke rose; it simply vanished into thin air.

The egg remained as pristine as ever, without the slightest rise in temperature.

Gu Changge: “……”

He stared at the egg in silence for a full three breaths.

Even the Chaotic Emperor Flame couldn’t burn it?

What on earth is this thing?

He put away the flames and held the egg in his hands again, running his fingers over its smooth surface.

Forget it, forget it!

This thing is so tough, it might as well be used to crack walnuts!

Gu Changge temporarily suppressed his curiosity and casually tucked away the strangely peculiar egg.

He stood up and cast his gaze toward the eastern horizon.

There, the Tomb of the Great Emperor lay. Even from an immeasurable distance, that vast, ancient, and overwhelming imperial aura—capable of crushing eternity itself—still faintly radiated, stirring the winds and clouds of heaven and earth.

His eyes shifted slightly toward a nearby barren mountain closer to the emperor’s tomb.

Within his sight, he saw a grimy, grumbling old man dragging a half-dead young man, sneaking furtively into a cave.

They were none other than the Third Patriarch and Xue Wuhen.

“Ugh! What a cursed place, bad luck all around!”

The Third Patriarch muttered as he set up a few rudimentary concealment formations, glancing at his tattered robe with a twinge of regret.

He had just tossed Xue Wuhen—like a broken sack—into a corner, intending to steady himself and observe the situation.

At that moment—

A hand silently rested on his shoulder.

“Ghost!!”

The Third Patriarch’s hairs stood on end, and without thinking, he spun around and hurled the half-conscious Xue Wuhen behind him with all his might!

“Ouch!”

A cry of pain rang out as the Second Patriarch clumsily caught the human-shaped projectile, clutching his chest.

“Third Patriarch! You’re crazy! It’s me!”

The Third Patriarch focused and let out a long breath of relief, patting his chest and exclaiming, “Second Patriarch?! Damn, you scared the hell out of me! Why are you so ghost-like, not making a sound?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing!”

The Second Patriarch snapped back, throwing the unconscious Xue Wuhen back onto the ground and glaring.

“You vanished without a trace, and we searched everywhere for you!

If it weren’t for Changge’s brilliant calculations, deducing that you entered the Great Emperor’s Tomb, we wouldn’t have known how worried everyone was.

I mean, seriously, digging a hole to bury someone and ending up inside the emperor’s tomb?”

The Third Patriarch’s face flushed red as he stiffened his neck. “How was I supposed to know this blasted place was so weird?

By the way, are Ruobai and Hanyu okay? The Liuli Holy Land hasn’t caused more trouble, has it?”

No sooner had he finished speaking than the Fourth Patriarch’s figure appeared at the cave entrance like a ghost, quietly responding, “The Liuli Holy Land? You’ve been dumbfounded in this tomb too long. That’s all old news.”

The Third Patriarch was taken aback. “Old news? What do you mean?”

The Fourth Patriarch dropped a bombshell in the most matter-of-fact tone: "The Liuli Sanctuary is gone."

"Gone?!"

The Third Patriarch’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"What do you mean gone? How is it gone?!"

"Just as I said. It’s been wiped from the world—root and branch. All that’s left there now is a wasteland."

At that moment, Blood Without a Trace, who had been quietly stirring in the corner, caught every word clearly: "The Liuli Sanctuary is gone."

He blinked his eyes open, still dazed and confused. Then, a bitter smile crept onto his face.

"I must still be dreaming."

He murmured to himself, "The Liuli Sanctuary has stood for eternity. It’s guarded by the Imperial Weapons, overseen by the Great Saint Patriarch, and protected by an imperial-level formation. How could it possibly be destroyed..."

"It must be that old monster hit me too hard—I’m hallucinating."

He shook his head and closed his eyes, preparing to sink back into unconsciousness.

“Smack!”

A sharp slap suddenly landed on his head.

“You don’t need to worry about this right now. Just keep sleeping!”

The Third Patriarch’s rough, impatient voice echoed nearby.

The last flicker of Blood Without a Trace’s awareness, tinged with absurdity and confusion over how a dream could feel so real, slipped once again into the boundless darkness.