Ge Qing now knew what the voice he had heard was.
It was the response of the underworld's "Heavens."
Ethereal and hoarse, the Great Dao descended.
The road of reincarnation, life, and death,
Devoured souls to refine true immortals.
Myriad ghosts and gods layered like black armor, blanketing the earth beneath banners sweeping through the sky.
Sun and moon passed through the heavens, weaving primal chaos breath.
The colossal carriage halted before them, like a sky—an exclusive heavenly barrier belonging to their underworld.
He could not see the true face of the one seated atop the colossal carriage, yet he had no need to see clearly.
In his eyes, that was the Great Dao.
To hear the Dao in the morning, and die content in the evening.
Upon the throne of the colossal carriage.
Tu Shan Jun, his crimson hair cascading wildly, slowly withdrew his gaze.
Then he looked toward the enormous bronze gate.
His gaze was tranquil.
"Why does the desolate god buried in the river of years know my name?"
His words were like a gentle breeze, brushing aside the mysterious light within the bronze gate.
Buzz.
The spinning vortex vanished, revealing the true realm within.
The divine grave was buried between heaven and earth.
Yet the desolate god seemed not to have died.
An enormous head rose from the tomb, shaped like a giant serpent but bizarrely bearing a human face.
Its immense wings, which blotted out the sun and covered the sky, resembled a vast canopy spread overhead.
Tu Shan Jun had indeed never seen such a desolate god.
There were countless kinds of "gods." Though they too were one kind of living being among all things, they were born powerful and possessed supreme might.
Some powerful ancient gods were themselves manifestations of the Great Dao—such