The universe decayed, galaxies crumbled, like dust-covered shards of roof tile. Along the way, many grand wonders gradually rotted away.
Newborn universes were also unfolding. Six-time Limit Breaking Supreme Experts could catch fleeting glimpses amid the vast splendor: on some planets, spacecraft burst free of their native worlds and sailed toward distant starfields.
Yet these were only flashes of light that appeared and vanished, swiftly receding into the distance. The Great Mythological Migration set out once more, crossing one Great Universe after another. No one knew where its end lay.
"Mythical Source No. 2 isn't very far away. We can vaguely sense it. Is it truly following us and becoming our neighbor?"
"Unprecedented. This shift of the supernatural has twisted and turned; the past cannot serve as a reference."
The True Saints whispered among themselves. Even they had no confidence—the experience of the past was no longer useful.
Wang Xuan remained beside Shou, pondering recent events. What exactly were that giant and that puppet? Why had they been suppressed beneath the Supernatural Source?
At the very least, they were beings who had broken through two great realms six times, yet they had fallen to such a state. One had had its head blown apart and was locked within the Extremely Dark Shadow Land; the other was bound by red threads, a puppet on strings in the truest sense.
These matters could not be traced back. Digging deeper yielded no answers. They belonged to vanished old affairs, and now even the old monsters from the Age of Gods, those who had lived the longest, could only spread their hands and say they had no solution.
"There was no opposing great faction, no war involving the extinction of races. Though the Supernatural Center has changed again and again, and its highest rulers