Blood-colored tears fell from the stone eyes of Qu Lin's statue.
Ye Tian's gaze rested on Qu Lin. He did not interrupt the turbulent tides in Qu Lin's heart. This man had perhaps lain silent for countless ages, for who knew how many tens of thousands of years. Now that he had just awakened, heaven and earth had already changed.
Or rather, this was no longer the era of Divine cultivators. They had sunk into the river of time, and no one remembered their names any longer.
Their tribe members might already have withered away entirely, or perhaps they had followed the great current of the world and become part of the immortal cultivators.
What Divine cultivators feared most was that no one in the world would praise their true names, that they would be forgotten. The source of all their power was the power of incense offerings. If no one remembered them, it also meant the disappearance of their strength. Their golden bodies, refined through incense offerings, would likewise become tangible as their power ebbed away.
Until, forevermore, no one remembered them again.
Had Ye Tian not passed through this place today and called Qu Lin's name, Qu Lin would never have awakened.
Like the statues atop the other stone pillars beside the altar, all of them had already turned into dust and shattered stone. When they had fallen asleep back then, they had hoped someone would remember them, so that they could awaken once more after countless years.
Unfortunately, they had not waited long enough. While asleep, they had gradually perished.
And Qu Lin was already the last among them.
Qu Lin did not know how long he had been silent. Much of the rubble covering his body had fallen away, and even the remaining upper half of