Chapter Sixty-Four: The Divine Gourmet Insect

The divine plane where the Cemetery of the Gods lay was vast, yet barren and devoid of life, not a single living being in sight, resembling a true necropolis. Although Qiankun could not physically enter the Cemetery of the Gods, his divine sense could easily penetrate its confines and observe the situation within.

Qiankun was generally quite familiar with the circumstances of the first eleven levels of the Cemetery. The bodies of the Four Divine Beasts rested atop the eighteenth level, which did not surprise him. As for the twelfth to seventeenth levels, these six layers gradually revealed their mysteries under the probing of his divine sense.

“How interesting. Beirut truly put a great deal of thought into this Cemetery of the Gods!” After satisfying his curiosity, Qiankun simply settled cross-legged on the plaza outside the cemetery, preparing to cultivate.

This plane, opened by a chief god, was rich in elemental energy; comprehending the profoundness of the laws was relatively easier here, making it an excellent place for cultivation—far superior even to the miniature planes Beirut had created. Amid the monotony of cultivation, Qiankun would occasionally and idly probe the Cemetery of the Gods, paying attention to Linley’s growth.

Time flowed by, and in the blink of an eye, ten years had passed. Seemingly unchanged from a decade ago, Qiankun still sat quietly in meditation on the plaza outside the Cemetery. Yet, in his mind, alongside his Wind God clone, two more divine clones had formed: the Destruction God and Darkness God clones. With this, apart from a Thunder God clone, Qiankun had now cultivated ten divine clones.

When the ten years were up, Beirut and the War God arrived as scheduled. Beirut merely nodded slightly at Qiankun before entering the cemetery through the passage on the eleventh level, ready to receive Linley and the others.

Soon, Linley and the remaining twenty or so Saint-level experts exited the Cemetery of the Gods. “Hey, hello,” Linley and Bebe were conversing with the fortunate survivor, Barker, when a mocking, light-hearted voice sounded abruptly. A strange young man in a green robe suddenly appeared beside them.

“Linley, isn’t it?” The odd green-robed youth laughed heartily. “Not bad—you actually managed to obtain a divine spark on the eleventh level. You’re amazing, kid.” As he spoke, he even reached out to ruffle Linley’s hair. Linley wanted to dodge but found his body frozen, clearly bound by a divine domain.

“Tarosa, come here,” came Beirut’s call from afar.

The green-robed youth hurried over obediently, grinning. “Lord Beirut, let’s return to the Yulan Plane! I haven’t been home in so long—I miss it terribly.”

“Allow me to introduce you. This is Tarosa—many of you have met him. He was the administrator of the first eleven levels of the Cemetery of the Gods, the lethargic divine beast, the Bashe,” Beirut explained, ignoring Tarosa as he surveyed the assembly.

Tarosa’s gaze swept over the crowd, pausing briefly on Qiankun and the other divine-level experts. “I know all five of you. Catherine—I’ve known you for ages, old friends. Oh, you’re called O’Brien, and you must be Hise, yes?”

“You’re Qiankun? Not bad! I’ve heard you haven’t cultivated for long, yet you’re already a mid-level god. Amazing—a monstrous talent like you appearing in the Yulan Plane while I was away. We should spar sometime,” Tarosa said with particular seriousness, grinning at Qiankun.

Qiankun smiled lightly and nodded. “I would be delighted! I, too, am curious to see just how formidable the divine beast Bashe truly is.”

“Ah, Dylin, my dear brother, you’re truly lucky to have escaped from the Gebada Plane Prison. Seeing you is the happiest part of my return. Let’s have a brotherly embrace,” Tarosa’s eyes gleamed as he moved to hug Dylin.

But Dylin frowned and shifted beside Beirut. Having lost a son in the Cemetery, he was in no mood for such camaraderie.

“Tarosa, enough!” Beirut’s words were calm, but such was their weight that Tarosa immediately fell silent and dutifully stood behind him.

“Alright, everyone, prepare to depart. Let’s return to the Yulan Continent,” Beirut announced with composure.

“Yes, Lord Beirut!” All the experts responded in unison. Led by Beirut, Qiankun, the other five divine-level experts, and the two or three dozen Saint-level experts began their journey home.

It was the fourth day of March, year 10034 of the Yulan Calendar—exactly ten years since Linley and the others had entered.

Upon returning to the Yulan Plane, the assembled experts dispersed over the South Sea, leaving only Qiankun and Tarosa behind, intending to find a place to spar. The details of their duel remained a mystery, but more than a month later, on April ninth, when the six divine-level experts and Beirut returned to the Cemetery of the Gods, Tarosa was notably enthusiastic and even deferential toward Qiankun, much to the puzzlement of the War God and the others. Both were mid-level gods, so why was Tarosa so respectful?

Upon arrival, Beirut wasted no words, directly opening the passage to the twelfth level and allowing the six divine-level experts to enter.

Of the group, only the War God and High Priest had ever been to the twelfth level. Dylin, Hise, and even Tarosa knew little of what awaited them. Qiankun, however, had often explored the cemetery with his divine sense over the past ten years, so the twelfth level held few secrets for him.

Upon entering, they found themselves in a desert world—an expanse of darkness and silence so vast and utterly lifeless that the stillness itself was unsettling.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything here,” Dylin muttered, frowning in confusion.

Hise, sensing something, narrowed his eyes toward the endless desert floor. “No, there’s a faint aura—like death itself.”

“There are strange creatures underground, their auras withdrawn, but there seem to be many of them,” Tarosa said, his brow furrowed.

“They are God-Eater Worms. They feed on the corpses of divine-level beings and are covered in hard shells, making them exceedingly difficult to kill. Never use your divine sense to probe here, or you’ll immediately alert them. They are extraordinarily sensitive to the spiritual force of divine-level experts,” the War God cautioned.

Buzz—his words had barely faded when a trembling hum filled the air. The desert ground below began to quake, and soon, a black mass of beetle-like worms, their small eyes glinting purple, swarmed up from the depths and surged toward the six divine-level experts like a living storm.

“Ahem... I couldn’t resist using my divine sense just now,” Tarosa coughed awkwardly.

“Getting entangled by God-Eater Worms is a serious matter—run!” barked the High Priest. In a blur, her figure vanished, speeding for the distant horizon.

Almost simultaneously, Qiankun, Tarosa, the War God, Dylin, and Hise all became streaks of light, racing away at full speed.

No sooner had they left than the endless God-Eater Worms covered their previous position, sweeping after them like a tempest.

Moments later, in the distant sky of this world, having shaken off the God-Eater Worms, Qiankun and the others finally came to a halt.

With a crisp crack, Qiankun crushed a God-Eater Worm he held in his hand. “The shell of these worms is indeed remarkably hard.”

The others turned to look at Qiankun, listening to his quiet musings and finding themselves speechless. Even while fleeing, this fellow had the leisure to snatch up a God-Eater Worm for study.