Brother, I never thought I'd see you again after I died!

Inside the Death Realm, the blood moon burst forth with a scarlet pillar of light, like divine punishment descending from the heavens, enveloping Qian Wuji's stark-white skeleton.

Flesh grew over bone, and this scene, filled with an indescribable strangeness and sanctity, unfolded before everyone's eyes.

Fresh-red granulation sprouted like living vines, climbing madly along the jade-like bones, weaving together, intertwining.

Immediately after, thick blood vessels, resilient meridians, and internal organs condensed and took shape one after another.

"Thump—"

"Thump—"

"Thump—"

A bright-red heart brimming with vitality suddenly took shape inside the once-empty chest cavity.

The strong, powerful beats rang out like the dull war drums of an ancient battlefield.

At last, full muscle fibers and elastic skin grew out, filling out the formerly loose golden rose finery.

The instant the body was fully reconstructed, in the deepest depths of the Death Realm, the great gate engraved with countless hideous ghost faces abruptly swung open!

Countless vengeful spirits shrieked in anguish as a solidified orb of soul light, radiating a terrifying aura, burst through the gate.

Like a shooting star tearing through the darkness, it dragged a long trail of flame through the air.

Finally, it sank into the glabella of that freshly remade flesh-and-blood body.

"Shing—"

The flesh-and-blood body with tightly shut eyes abruptly opened them, and in an instant, it was as if two cold sword beams had split apart endless darkness.

Yet those eyes were filled with blankness and confusion. He stared dazedly at his surroundings—the flowing magma, the strange blood moon hanging above.

What the hell is this place? Could this be the legendary underworld that people enter after death?

As soul and body fused perfectly, the energy sustaining this space also reached its limit.

The Death Realm began to twist violently and dissipate. A cold wind rolled backward, and shards of space peeled away piece by piece like glass.

After the surroundings blurred for a moment, they once again returned to the solemn, imposing scene of the Hall of Douluo.

And Qian Wuji, who had just been revived, drifted down lightly under the pull of gravity, landing nimbly and precisely on top of his own tombstone.

The instant the resurrection ritual was successfully completed, deep fatigue surfaced on the face of the Death Angel, Ming Ji, who had been maintaining the formation all this time. She transformed into black motes of light that scattered across the sky, drifting with the wind as they returned into Qian Renheng's body.

Qian Renheng gasped for breath in great heaving gulps, feeling as if his body had been drained dry.

The soul power within him had long since bottomed out. His legs went weak, and he dropped straight toward the ground on his knees.

"Xiao Heng—"

Qian Wushuang reacted instantly, flashing forward in one step and steadily catching Qian Renheng.

His broad, powerful palm pressed directly onto Qian Renheng's shoulder, and vast, pure soul power without any attribute poured into Qian Renheng's body like sweet rain.

Qian Renheng's pale complexion regained its rosiness at a visible speed, and his entire person became radiant with vigor once more.

"Brother, are you all right?!"

At the side, Qian Renxue hurried forward at a trot, supporting Qian Renheng's arm as she asked worriedly.

"I'm fine. My soul power was just drained in an instant, so I'm a little tired. Great-grandfather has already helped me recover."

Qian Renheng panted as he waved his hand.

Then he raised his head and looked curiously at the newly revived great-uncle standing on the tombstone.

At this moment, Qian Wuji's appearance was truly rather eye-catching.

He wore a fitted golden finery, embroidered all over with densely blooming golden roses.

His dazzling blond hair spilled casually over his shoulders like a waterfall, setting off his sharply defined face until it looked smooth and gentle.

One had to admit, judging purely by looks and bearing, this great-uncle absolutely stood head and shoulders above the crowd!

Only at this moment, this former Peerless Douluo clearly still had not figured out the situation before him.

He stood on his own tombstone, brows tightly furrowed, eyes unfocused. In modern terms, he was still in the boot-up loading state.

"Little brother—"

Looking at that familiar face, Qian Wushuang's eyes had already reddened, and even his voice was trembling.

That was his own younger brother, the brother who had not relied on the Angel God's blessing, but had cultivated by sheer peerless talent all the way to the realm of Peerless Douluo.

The brother who should have had an infinitely bright future, yet had died young because of a sudden, unknown strange illness!

Qian Wushuang took half a step forward in excitement, wanting to reunite with his own younger brother.

But just then, Qian Wuji, who stood atop the tombstone, seemed to finally come back to himself.

He slowly raised his right hand and, with an especially elegant gesture, pressed it to his forehead, lightly brushing aside the loose golden strands hanging before it. Then, in a magnetic tone, he said:

"Truly, I never would have imagined that even after death... I, Qian Wuji, would still be this damned elegant!"

Everyone: "..."

No one had expected that after Qian Wuji's resurrection, the very first thing he said would be this.

The sorrowful atmosphere that had just begun to gather inside the hall was shattered by that single sentence.

The corner of Qian Renheng's mouth twitched. Good grief. This great-uncle of his really was... He didn't even know how to describe him.

Qian Wuji paid no attention at all to the looks from those around him, continuing to maintain that inscrutable air.

"What comforts me even more is that, in this world after death, I can actually see my dear brother once again!"

At this point, he finally deigned to lower the hand pressed to his forehead, his gaze slowly sweeping over the people below.

"Hmm? It's one thing for my brother to be here, but who are those lousy old men beside him?!"

Qian Wuji raised a brow, his eyes filled with unconcealed surprise and distaste. How could someone as elegant as him be together with a bunch of lousy old men?!

He did know Qian Daoliu, but back then, Qian Daoliu had been very, very young, completely different from how he looked now.

Who knew how much time had passed by now? Qian Daoliu had also grown old. It would be a miracle if he could recognize him.

"Father... this..." Qian Daoliu's face was covered in black lines. Being called a lousy old man by his own uncle...

The feeling was as stifling as it could possibly be. He recognized his uncle, but his uncle didn't recognize him!

Golden Crocodile Douluo and the others also looked embarrassed. No one said a word. Were they old? In fact, their appearances were still all right, weren't they?

Suddenly, Qian Wuji twitched his nose, seeming to notice that something was off.

"Hiss—" He sucked in a sharp breath, his originally profound expression instantly collapsing. "No... this place, isn't this the damned Hall of Douluo?!"

Qian Wuji finally reacted. This was the Hall of Douluo he knew so well. Tombstones were everywhere, and he remembered that he was already dead. The stone beneath his feet was his own tombstone!

Had he just risen from the grave?!

Qian Wuji's handsome face was filled with huge question marks. He looked at the crowd in confusion, then asked Qian Wushuang, who stood at the very front:

"Brother! What on earth is going on? Wasn't I buried and at peace long ago? How am I standing here alive and kicking again?!"

"And who are these lousy old men? Why does this one look kind of familiar?!" Qian Wuji said, pointing at Qian Daoliu.