In the Supernatural Realm, mythological factors boiled over. Dazzling multicolored light and endless auspicious radiance all surged upward, pouring toward the outer universe.
Countless supernatural practitioners from every race and every sect roared and shouted. The most important moment of this era had arrived. Those who could not keep pace would sink forever into decay.
A thousand sails raced forth, and ten thousand races vied for the lead. An ocean of supernatural practitioners crossed the skies. It looked vibrant and resplendent, with mythology flourishing, but that was merely the surface.
In an instant, vast amounts of crimson blood water splashed across the starry sea, beneath the heavens, and throughout every corner of the universe.
The Supernatural Center had suffered a great breach. This was not a time for a hundred flowers to bloom, but for hundreds of millions of supernatural practitioners to struggle across the river, all terrified of falling behind and failing to keep pace with the Great Mythological Migration.
Massive amounts of Dao rhythm surged, and countless quantities of super material rose into the air, breaking away from the existing Supernatural Center. Some corners of the universe rapidly lost their mythological nature, as though they had suddenly dimmed.
High above the world, one could overlook this magnificent spectacle. The birth and death of a galaxy seemed to be completed in the flick of a finger.
The real universe itself was actually undamaged, but the Soul of the Mythical Universe, jointly formed by Dao rhythm and supernatural factors, was indeed rushing away, receding like a tide, being born and dying. The "soul of mythology" had begun to leave its body.
At this moment, countless supernatural practitioners seemed incomparably tiny. They feared being shaken out of the supernatural rivers and seas, left forever in the old universe. With everyone rushing