All Gods: Starting with Two Families

Chapter 127 Change of Dimensional OwnershipZhou Zheng just stood there.

He stood at the center of the spring, beside that black altar, in the Void Realm where those runes were scanning frantically yet could never lock onto him.

He looked down at his body.

The suppression had vanished, and his Divine Power flowed freely within him.

This was not from a projection, but a vast power originating from his true form.

Zhou Zheng offered no explanation.

He withdrew his Divine Thought, lifted his head, and looked around.

Deep in the darkness, Pale Feather and those Yao Race were still standing there.

Their expressions were complex—shock, fear, bewilderment, and a kind of indescribable... despair.

Zhou Zheng smiled and raised his hand.

A surge of Divine Power poured from his palm, not as an attack, but as... a diffusion.

Like water seeping into sand, like light shining into darkness, it was slow, steady, and unstoppable.

He was using his Divine Power to erode this demon locking pot.

Pale Feather’s pupils constricted sharply.

”You... what are you doing?!”

Zhou Zheng did not answer.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the flow of that Divine Power.

The Divine Power touched the altar, and there was no resistance.

It touched those runes, and still, there was no resistance.

It touched the surrounding darkness, and again, no resistance.

This ancient Plane, specifically designed to imprison the Scale and Feather clans, was completely undefended against an outsider like him who possessed ”no Kunpeng Bloodline.”

Zhou Zheng suddenly understood.

This demon locking pot had been designed from the very beginning to target the Kunpeng Bloodline.

Without the Kunpeng Bloodline, one could not enter—the gap at the entrance was only open to those who possessed the Kunpeng Bloodline.

With the Kunpeng Bloodline, once inside, one would be suppressed—it was specifically meant to lock down all descendants of the Kunpeng.

But never had anyone without the Kunpeng Bloodline been able to stand here.

Zhou Zheng was the first.

His Divine Power surged into the core of the Plane without obstruction, as if entering an empty realm.

Pale Feather’s voice came from behind, trembling: ”Impossible... this is impossible... how did you do it...”

Zhou Zheng did not turn back.

He simply felt the spread of that Divine Power, feeling himself gain control over this ancient cage bit by bit.

And those Yao Race could only watch.

They dared not approach.

As long as they stepped into the range of the spring, they would be suppressed and locked down—that was what they themselves had said.

The cage, in another form, had trapped the ones who designed it.

Pale Feather stood there, watching Zhou Zheng’s back, his facial expression constantly changing.

Fear, anger, despair, bewilderment... finally, all expressions vanished, leaving only one... relief.

”How long have we waited?” he murmured, ”Hundreds of thousands of years? Millions of years? Every time someone with the Kunpeng Bloodline entered, we thought we saw hope. Then we killed them, drained them dry, and used their spirituality to live a few more tens of thousands of years.”

”We told ourselves that there was no other way. If we didn’t do this, we would degenerate and become beasts. We just... wanted to live.”

He lowered his head and looked at his hands.

Those aged hands had once been stained with the blood of his own kin.

”But is living... really meaningful?”

None of the surrounding Yao Race answered.

They stood there, silent, like a group of stone statues.

Zhou Zheng did not speak.

He simply continued to erode the core of this demon locking pot.

Time passed.

It was unknown how much time had passed—perhaps a few hours, perhaps a few days, or perhaps longer—Zhou Zheng’s Divine Power finally touched the deepest part of the Plane’s consciousness.

In that instant, he felt it.

An aged, exhausted, and nearly dissipating consciousness.

That was the consciousness of the demon locking pot itself.

When it was created, it had a spirit.

But countless years of imprisonment and countless years of solitude had exhausted all of its spirituality.

It was just an empty shell.

It let Zhou Zheng’s Divine Power surge in without any resistance.

Zhou Zheng suddenly felt a sense of emotion.

What was the difference between this demon locking pot and those Yao Race?

They were all prisoners.

All trapped here, enduring endless years until they lost everything.

He withdrew his thoughts and continued to erode.

Finally—

Boom.

Zhou Zheng’s body gave a slight jolt.

He could feel it.

Every inch of space in this demon locking pot, every corner, every dormant rune.

It was no longer his enemy, no longer his cage, but... his.

He had gained control over this demon locking pot.

In that very instant, a consciousness that had been sealed away for who knows how many tens of thousands of years crossed endless space and time, surging into his mind.

It was a voice.

Aged, exhausted, yet carrying a hint of... relieved tenderness.

”Thank you.”

Zhou Zheng was stunned.

The voice did not stop.

Fragmented images surged in along with the voice—a gigantic Peng bird soaring above the Nine Heavens; a similarly gigantic Kun swimming beneath the Nine Abysses.

Then darkness.

Endless darkness.

Solitude.

Long, endless solitude.