The End

At the end of the rift stood a massive boulder, fused with the mountain wall as though it had always been there.

Yet none of the artifacts, writings, paintings, or other things everyone had expected to find existed within the rift.

"Zhao, did we come to the wrong place?!"

Professor Jetev asked, seemingly certain that Zhao Cheng could provide an answer.

It was not just him. At that moment, everyone else turned to look at Zhao Cheng as well.

A civilization's birthplace could lack other things, but it would surely have left behind images carved upon stone.

"This is the place. We just need a little technique to open the door."

Zhao Cheng spoke, then walked to the end of the rift. With a grasp of his five fingers, he effortlessly lifted the boulder—estimated to weigh dozens of tons—and gently set it aside, without making the slightest sound.

Behind the boulder, an entrance appeared before everyone's eyes.

But at that moment, the entrance no longer mattered. Was that really a stone, and not a piece of foam?!

Everyone's eyelids twitched wildly.

Especially Professor Jetev's friend, Huo Lei, who sucked in a sharp breath. As a Sword Master, his senses were extraordinarily keen. He could naturally tell that the boulder was the real thing, yet in Zhao Cheng's hands, such weight seemed no more substantial than air.

He understood only too well what that meant.

His mind was in utter turmoil. You were a perfectly good generation-defining supreme powerhouse—why weren't you out there stirring up the tides of the world? Why had you come here to play treasure-hunting adventure games with a bunch of ordinary people? How bored were you?!

To a Sword Master, supreme powerhouses were also unimaginably distant existences, scarcely different from gods of legend.

Thus, in Huo Lei's