Embracing the Sun into the Abyss, the Thrones Scatter

He felt his body beginning to "grow." His bones lengthened, his muscles swelled, his skin hardened, and his organs mutated.

He felt his consciousness beginning to "split." One thought arose and immediately divided into two; two divided into four; four divided into eight.

Endless thoughts surged through his mind, colliding, devouring one another, merging, then splitting again.

The gilded figure lowered his head and looked at his hands. They had long since lost their former clarity.

Golden patterns spread from his fingertips like the roots of ancient trees, like chains of spiderwebs, burrowing deep into flesh, winding into the gaps between bone, carving his entire palms into countless fine fragments.

Those patterns did not remain still. They writhed beneath his skin, and each wriggle brought a faint yet distinct tearing sensation, as though countless tiny mouths were gnawing their way inch by inch along his meridians.

He tried to clench his fist.

His knuckles creaked with a sound that set teeth on edge. What flowed through his veins was no longer pure orthodox solar fire, but gray-gold molten plasma mingled with the void. A thin layer of crystallized traces was left upon the walls of his meridians.

He raised his eyes and looked upon the land of this realm.

By the river, the grass-and-tree giant had long ceased growing, yet it had not died. It maintained that savage, enormous posture, its roots plunged deep into the earth, aerial roots hanging like nooses as they drained all Spiritual Essence within a radius of ten li.

A golden film floated atop the river. Beneath it, the corpses of countless fish and shrimp were undergoing a second mutation. Their bones pierced flesh and intertwined across the riverbed into a ghastly white forest.

Upon Snake-Coil Ridge, the remnant body of the Nine-Headed Golden Serpent