In the dim void, thick fog surged, and sheets of nebulae flickered in and out of sight. At the source of the light hovered a great hall, above which nine suns hung suspended, arranged in a fan.
Beneath the nine suns, a black throne stood atop a high dais, and upon it sat a towering figure.
He wore armor, his frame burly, and on his head was a divine crown, as if it were the skull of a qilin, its mouth revealing his cold and majestic face.
White hair drifted on either side of his face. He propped his cheek with one hand, his posture languid, murky breath spilling constantly from his mouth, like a True Dragon taking a light doze.
A bolt of lightning shot in from the depths of the darkness and landed atop the great hall, transforming into a man with two wings. He wore a dark-cyan Daoist robe, his face sinister and severe, his long hair draped loose at random, like a vengeful ghost.
Before the man on the throne, the winged man seemed so small, as if he were facing a colossal mountain.
"My lord, it seems the power of an immortal god is interfering with this universe," the winged man said, his tone grave, clearly filled with dread toward immortal gods.
The man on the throne slowly opened his eyes. His pupils were golden, making him appear even more majestic, his oppressive presence overwhelming.
"An immortal god? Laughable. In this great world, there is only one immortal god. He will not interfere in struggles within the realm. What's more, this great world once betrayed the immortal gods, and their dissatisfaction with this realm is not so easily dispersed."
His gaze turned toward the depths of the universe, and within his pupils appeared the reflected