Duncan dreamed.

In fact, ever since his journey began, he had hardly dreamed. Even his journey to Asgard's Heroic Spirit Hall wasn't a dream—it was his soul leaving his body to enter a realm beyond reality.

But at this moment, he was dreaming, and not in the godly perspective of Dimension Space, but from a first-person view, entering this majestic dreamscape.

A long celestial ladder appeared before Duncan.

Different from the steps of the Heroic Spirit Hall, this ladder seemed endless at a glance, with its sides adorned with countless majestic edifices. At the crossroads of these steps were myriad branches, leading to buildings of various styles, temples of differing designs, and palaces of various kinds.

This Endless Celestial Ladder was not a straight line; it was like a mighty river, vast and majestic, with innumerable branches and tributaries. But the most significant tributaries were one to the east and another to the west.

Duncan's figure appeared atop the first step of the Endless Celestial Ladder.

Two figures fully clad in opulent armor emerged before him. One of them knelt on one knee and said in a solemn voice: "Welcome to the Immortal Throne of the Historical River."

"King of Britain, Godslayer—Duncan!"

"The only living myth in the real world!"

The two guardians of the Endless Celestial Ladder opened a path to the left and right, and Duncan's figure slowly ascended the steps.

In an instant!

It was as if he saw the echo of the Historical River, the endless collision of wilderness and civilization, the torrents like time and space rivers washing over his body, gradually granting a slight ascension to his soul.

Duncan turned to gaze eastward. He saw sheets of paper and silk, silk floating like clouds. He saw the rocking compass, saw the fireworks of civilization detonated by gunpowder, saw a sturdy and majestic figure, eyes like stars, standing beneath the pitch-dark night sky. Behind him was a cluster of bonfires, and above him hung countless hemp ropes, knotted again and again as if recording the passage of millennia.

That towering figure lifted his head, looking towards Duncan. His expression carried a hint of surprise, and he sighed softly: "So, it's our descendant..."

"Young man."

"You are remarkable!"

As the words fell, the figure tore the countless hemp ropes behind him. He looked up at the heavens, drawing inspiration from the endless starry sky. He gazed down at the earth, drawing wisdom from all things in the world.

A stroke fell!

Bloody rain, wailing Ghost Gods!

With a simple stroke and dot, an endless storm of blood arose behind the figure, all beings crying and wailing, the primordial Ghost Gods letting out fearful shrieks.

But the figure's hand remained steady as a rock, traces of time's millennia flowing unchecked behind him. With the strength of a thousand pounds, he pierced the Historical River, writing a simple character.

——[Human]!

Boom!

A lightning bolt tore through the endless dark night sky, the darkness of the era, within this simple stroke and dot, as if unveiling the heavens and the earth, dispelling the darkness and ignorance of many millennia. All beings retreated to the four corners, countless primordial Ghost Gods wailing and shrieking, their era gradually fading.

This character stood tall, supporting the heavens and earth, marking the advent of the era belonging to [Human]!

Time and space flowed.

Countless figures appeared behind that person; they were scholars, sages, farmers, magicians, and others, figures numbering beyond count, overlapping layers upon layers like bricks. They were the sages of the East from various dynasties, using their wisdom as bricks and tiles, building a magnificent miracle of Eastern civilization amidst endless wilderness darkness!

These countless illusory figures replaced wilderness with civilization. Among them, some Duncan knew, while others were unfamiliar, yet this did not affect their leaving a profound mark of their own in the river of human history.

Duncan turned, bowing respectfully, head lowered in salute!

The arrogance belonging uniquely to a king faded; now, he was but a humble descendant.

The man with the starry eyes laughed.

He casually waved his hand and walked into the endless storm of blood behind him. All the myriad Ghost Gods cast eyes of hatred upon him, yet he was unafraid, stepping into the darkness alone. That night, his stroke fell, startling gods and ghosts. He would bury the era of ignorance and write the river of history belonging to humanity.

"Go, young man."

"The king's position remains above; when convenient, visit my two old friends on my behalf. They should count as your ancestors, right?"

"After all, you claim to be their descendants!..."

Beside that person, phantoms offered fine wine. He raised his head in a hearty drink, laughing heartily as he stepped into the endless darkness.

Script makes Ghost Gods cry.

From then on, all consequences would be borne by him alone.

Upon the Endless Celestial Ladder.

Duncan slowly rose, his steps firm, once more stepping onto another step.

In the next second, the winds shifted, the clouds transformed.

Duncan saw vast and mighty rivers, saw broad and fertile plains. He gazed into the distant horizon, where countless scenes flashed before him—a thousand temples spread across that city like an aerial garden. A black basalt block stood upon the temples, suppressing the kingdom's fate with laws. On the other side of the Code of Hammurabi, an ancient epic of the Heroic King was engraved in golden letters within the river, with a faint figure of heroic arrogance gazing upon him.

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