Gazing at that enormous black sun, its central body was as bottomlessly dark as a black hole, yet covered in countless mysterious patterns. The rays it gave off had no color either, as though black paint had been used to sketch an ethereal, weightless outline upon the canvas of the world.
The dance of particles was like rising flames, making it impossible to look away from their unfathomable movements. Shang-Chi felt as though his soul were about to be drawn into those endless mysterious patterns. It was terrifying, magnificent, and breathtaking.
Without realizing it, Shang-Chi walked toward it. He reached out one hand, seeming to want to touch the sun's rays, but it simply hung there silently, high above, responding to nothing.
Shang-Chi had thought he would communicate with the gods in the depths of the stars, but only upon truly standing here did he realize that they could not be communicated with. They themselves represented knowledge and The Truth.
The instant he gazed upon them, endless knowledge poured into his mind. It was not energy, a technique, or some form of enhancement. These truths, indescribable by any cumbersome words or language, were the true power they bestowed upon their followers.
Scenes flooded Shang-Chi's mind one after another: a man groaning in agony on a hospital bed, the Avengers gathered around him, madness passed through clasped hands, endless proliferation, slaughter, chaos, assimilation, invasion...
Then came an immensely complex system. Beginning from the very center of the universe, countless monsters spread outward according to their ranks—the appearance, name, personality, and preferences of each one...
All the stories were preserved in his memory as images. Shang-Chi had never sensed his memory space so clearly before. It was as though everything had suddenly been put in order, and he could even retrieve a