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Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God

Earth has undergone an odd change. Expanding by millions of times its original size, its population was suddenly split into two halves. On one side, there was a group of technologically advanced humans. But, on the other, a world of cultivation had grown and pospered. The secrets that led to this change have been hidden in the darkness for too long... Until there came a day where a boy born on the Mortal side of the world was found to have the talent to enter the Martial side. Having lost both of his parents to a hidden tide, he chose to leave all that he had known behind and enter this land of danger. What truths would he unveil? What would he learn about what separated the Mortals from the Cultivators? What hidden evils wanted to ensure that his people never rose up and gained power? And how would those evils... deal with him? ---- This list of things I hate is quite long. The first is that I hate to be tested the most. The second is that I hate to be tested the most. The third also happens to be that I hate to be tested the most. The ocean's depths are too shallow, the sun's light too dim, the ground too mundane and the skies too small. For those born of this colorless world to deem themselves worthy of casting judgement on me... I can only say that it's laughable. I am the Nameless Immortal God because even the Heavens themselves are unworthy to name me. Even while I am unaware of my own identity, I will dry the oceans until cracked land is all that is left, I will cast the sun into endless darkness, I will shatter the ground with my feet and sunder the skies with my blade. Am I too arrogant? What right do you have to think that? --- https://discord.gg/awespec

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2335 Chs

Dad

"Dad…" Dyon's voice didn't sound out, but he felt like it took all of his strength to even mouth that word.

His father stood in a state Dyon had never seen before. His handsome face was drenched in tears as he gripped the side of the coffin, silently muttering to himself.

But, the view of the coffin itself was something Dyon couldn't bring himself to look at… Because he knew what it held… And it wasn't someone he could stand to see.

And yet, against his wishes, his feet began to move.

No matter how hard he struggled, his steps remained steady, pushing him up the church steps to stand right beside his trembling father.

Dyon's head tilted downward, forcing him to look at the woman who lay in the coffin peacefully.

His mother was a white woman with delicate features. Her hair was a long brunette strung with the petals of flowers, adorning her in death. And yet, even in death, her face still held a rosy color that made it seem as though she could stand at any moment.