The mighty beings all nodded.
Climbing the mountain on foot was itself part of the funeral, the simplest tribute to Father God.
Mount Buzhou rose to a height of untold tens of millions of li.
But everyone present was among the mightiest beings in the Primordial World.
Even without using magical power, they could steadily reach the summit through their physical bodies and will alone.
Everyone formed a funeral procession of their own accord.
Pan Xuan, the Twelve Ancestral Witches, and the Three Pure Ones led the way at the front.
Randeng followed closely behind, bearing the Glazed Lamp, the Annihilation Coffin flickering in and out of sight within its flame.
The gods of the Divine Dao occupied the middle ranks, with the mighty beings of the various factions on the outside. Everyone restrained their magical power and set foot on Mount Buzhou's mountain path.
The mountain path was steep and long, and the scenery along the way appeared and vanished amid the clouds and mist.
Below the mountainside, dense ancient trees and wondrous flowers and plants were still visible. Spirit birds and exotic beasts appeared in the mountain forests, seemingly mourning Father God in silence as well.
Above the mountainside, the vegetation gradually thinned, replaced by jagged rocks and fierce astral winds.
The higher they climbed, the heavier Pangu's pressure became. It was the will lingering within Father God's spine, the silent trial that the pillar holding up the heavens set for those who climbed it.
All those attending the ceremony walked silently, step by step, solemn and wordless.
No one spoke, and no one used magical power.
There was only the mountain wind howling past their ears, the trees rustling in low whispers in the wind.
And the low echoes of countless footsteps upon the ancient mountain path,