To Wang Xuan, the True Land was a genuine sacred soil, because it had reopened his upper limit. Compared to the other Disaster Lords, he still had a future; he could still burn with hot blood, passion, and hope.
Afterward, his true forms and incarnations reappeared. After fusing with his true body, although his main body's cultivation had risen and its upper limit had been opened, no matter how one looked at it, the multiple true forms fighting enemies separately were currently stronger than when they converged into one.
"This really is bizarre." Wang Xuan muttered to himself. In his view, he simply did not have enough true forms yet. He was currently at a peculiar bottleneck; once quantitative change triggered qualitative change, it would surely be incomparably violent.
That was because he intended to start from this approach and refine even more true forms no weaker than his main body.
The moment he arrived in the True Land, he fought Disaster Lords one after another. Only now, after traveling far into this desolate region, did everything quiet down. He took a moment to appreciate this world's customs and scenery, as well as its various magnificent wonders.
The True Land was vast and boundless. There were Disaster Lords, their descendants, native creatures, and more, so powerful races were hardly lacking. Each ruled fragments of the real earth, as well as normal Great Universes brimming with life.
There was no doubt that the mythological civilizations here were far more resplendent than those of the present world, more magnificent by who knew how many times. The number of powerful beings alone was not on the same order of magnitude.
Wang Xuan sighed. The present world had declined because one Supernatural Source after another had gone out, with all creation ultimately returning to