Chapter 379: Chapter 340: A Great Dream of a Thousand Autumns, the Flames of War Spread

Anton immersed himself in the cycle of reincarnation, oblivious to the passage of time.

In his first life, he was a farmer. He worked the fields diligently, living to the age of fifty-six before dying of illness in his bed.

In his second life, he was a blacksmith in the city, spending his days with the forge and anvil. By middle age, he had saved enough money to marry and have children, living a prosperous but ordinary life. At sixty, typhoid fever took him away while his wife and children cried their eyes out by his bedside.

In his third life, he became a traveling merchant, journeying far and wide. He sold salt, cloth, and borderland herbs and pelts. Once, he encountered bandits on the Frost Ridge Plateau. His goods were plundered, and most of his companions were killed or wounded. He crawled out of the snow alone and survived. Later, he saved enough capital to hit the road again, continuing until he died of old age.

Then came the fourth, fifth, and sixth lives...

In every life, Anton experienced different identities, encounters, and endings. Sometimes, he was a musician plucking strings in a tavern; other times, a coolie carrying cargo at the docks. He had sat in council halls draped in silk, debating with others, and he had shivered through harsh winters wrapped in torn felt under bridges. He had been a father, a husband, a son, a deserter, a prisoner, a wandering physician, and a night watchman. Each life was like a winding stream, originating from different mountains and flowing toward its own sea.

At first, Anton lost himself completely in the Illusion Realm in seven or eight out of ten reincarnations. He forgot who he was, what cultivation meant, and the existence of the Dawn Continent and the Silver Moon Race. He truly believed he was born into that world, destined to live and die in that manner.

Every time he drowned in those illusions, a clear chime of the Dao echoing from the depths of the Great Dream Formation pulled him out of the fictional mire, restoring his memories. Then, he was thrown back into the next reincarnation. It was like a stone repeatedly tossed into the same pond, creating ripples each time before being swallowed by the water without a trace.

Until one life ended, and the chime of the Dao sounded once more.

This time, upon waking, Anton did not rush into the next reincarnation. He sat cross-legged in the center of the Array, reflecting on his past experiences, gaining a faint sense of enlightenment. The identities, encounters, joys, and sorrows in the cycle of reincarnation were ultimately nothing more than reflections rippled by the wind on the water’s surface as a boat passed. Once the water calmed, the reflections scattered. From beginning to end, he remained himself.

His mind gradually settled. Taking a deep breath, Anton entered the cycle of reincarnation once again.

The scenes in the Illusion Realm remained as clear as yesterday. He cried when it was time to cry and laughed when it was time to laugh. Yet, a corner of his heart remained as clear as a mirror, reflecting everything but remaining unmoved. Eventually, he maintained his true self through more than ten consecutive reincarnations, untethered by illusions or desires. He knew exactly who he was, what he needed to do, and why he was there.

Thus, he finally halted the cycle.

His consciousness slowly surfaced from the gray void, like a diver rising from deep water. Anton opened his eyes.

The aerial roots of the Eternal Tree hung above him, with a faint glow flowing through their veins. The air carried the damp scent of earth and vegetation. Everything was quiet, as if nothing had happened. He looked up at the nearby sundial; the shadow cast by the sun had barely moved. The joys and sorrows, the cycle of life and death over countless lifetimes in the reincarnation, equated to no more than the time it took to eat a meal in the outside world. Anton exhaled a long breath of stale air, feeling his mind clear and pristine. His state of mind was realms beyond what it once was.

Anton even felt that, if he wished, he could immediately enter the Cognition Breaking Barrier. With his state of mind tempered by countless lifetimes, he could knock open that door and step onto the path of nirvana deep within the Illusion Realm. However, with a slight shift in his thoughts, he gently suppressed that ethereal intuition. Once he passed the Cognition Breaking Barrier, the Thunder and Fire Tribulation would descend instantly. He was not yet fully prepared; it was not the time to undergo the tribulation.

Rising to leave the Eternal Tree, Anton returned to the Ninefold Celestial Tower. Next, he needed to continue cultivating the Sword Dao and Divine Techniques to accumulate strength for the Thunder and Fire Tribulation.

Time slipped away like sand through his fingers. While Anton prepared for his breakthrough, the outside world was undergoing tumultuous changes.

Winter, year 9425 of the Chenxi Calendar.

Frosty winds swept down from the north, brushing over the blackened ruins of the Holy Dragon Mountain Range and carrying residual ash and crushed snow toward the southern plains. In the winter month of that year, the grand army of the Blood Roar Fortress suddenly crossed the border, pointing their weapons directly at the heart of the Jade Royal Court. Hundreds of thousands of Beastmen trampled across the grasslands, launching a lightning-fast assault on the City of Ten Thousand Trees.

However, what greeted them was the fully prepared Elven army. After a bitter battle, the Beastmen’s ambush plan shattered. The Blood Roar Fortress simply deployed their formations, engaging the Jade Royal Court head-on at the border. The news spread, shaking the continent. The four major factions had fought in the Holy Dragon Mountain Range for decades, but for the first time, the flames of war had truly spread to their respective territories. Yet, this was merely the beginning.

Spring, year 9426 of the Chenxi Calendar.

The Freedom Alliance declared war on the Heart of the Mountains without any warning. The very next day, the allied forces crossed the border and launched an attack on the Kazadum Mountains. The Dwarves met them fearlessly in battle, and the roar of the Magic Crystal Cannons echoed through the valleys for an entire spring. The flames of war gradually spread from the Holy Dragon Mountain Range in all directions, like a wildfire pushed by the wind, burning further and further.

The entire continent was shrouded in a stifling atmosphere, like the calm before a storm. Yet amidst the chaos of rising smoke and war, the three territories ruled by the Silver Moon Race remained as peaceful as another world. With the Steel Mane Tribe serving as a cautionary tale, no faction in the eastern part of the continent dared to be so blind as to provoke the sleeping tiger.

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