Three Years Later, Were They Still Washing the Ground Outside?

There was no such thing as time in Pale Hongmeng.

There were no sunrises or sunsets, no passage of years, and not even the concepts of "past" and "future" existed here.

In this place, existence itself seemed like a layer of dust that could be wiped away at any moment.

If one insisted on counting time, the only way was to rely on the Abyss System's built-in clock in the backend.

The clock showed that the Abyss had remained silent for three whole years.

Three years.

To Old Freaks at the Fourth Step or Fifth Step, three years was not even enough time for a nap.

Any random seclusion might last several Eras. Any random deduction might span from a universe's birth to its annihilation.

But in the current Abyss, these three years had passed more slowly than three Eras.

Because the Abyss was not in seclusion.

It was playing dead.

Abyss Core Layer.

Yang Yu sat beside the Chaos High-Pressure Cooker, maintaining the exact posture he had held three years ago.

He had not cultivated or checked the reports. He had even cut off his breathing, relying entirely on his True Spirit to circulate energy internally.

He had suppressed the gray-gold Origin radiance around him to its lowest level. His entire body was like a piece of cooled iron, so quiet that it gave off not the slightest ripple of existence.

The pink projection of the God of All Machines had shrunk into a tiny speck of light, with its brightness turned down to the lowest setting. Not a trace remained of its usual irritating liveliness.

The entire Abyss System had shut down all external interfaces.

Players could not log in.

The Exchange had stopped accepting orders.

All cross-boundary passages were sealed.

Even the Respawn Points had gone dark.