Jiang Sheng naturally understood Ming Xian's meaning:
An empty shell of a star could still maintain such an appearance, with the Wind of All Things' Slowing and embers of time lingering upon it—no matter how one looked at it, it made no sense.
Yet just as Jiang Sheng was about to speak, the Liuguang enveloping the entire star suddenly began to twist and change.
The originally dim starlight abruptly turned into a motley wash of colors. Streaks of variegated radiance intertwined and warped across the sky, and even the heavens and space itself began to grow strange.
Jiang Sheng and Ming Xian's expressions turned even graver upon noticing this. In the very next instant, a soaring storm suddenly surged forth.
A motley-colored storm rose into the heavens, sweeping up dust from the ages that howled toward them like a sandstorm.
"Not good!"
"A Storm of Ages!"
Jiang Sheng and Ming Xian both changed color. Neither hesitated as they turned and ran!
Dust from the ages could be called the embers of history, remnants left behind by all things beneath the ceaseless blowing of the Wind of Time's Slowing. But a Storm of Ages was an entirely different concept.
A Storm of Ages was the product of the distorted eruption of the currents of time.
The moment a Storm of Ages arose, all dust from the ages would be swept up and brought to life. At that point, every tiny grain of dust was a fragment of history, a lingering scene from time.
In other words, what chased behind Jiang Sheng and Ming Xian was countless histories and ages. If they were swept into it, their fate would not be much better than falling into the River of Time.
Falling into the River of Time meant nothing more than one's soul