But the Prehistoric Era of today was no longer the original Prehistoric Era. The Human Race's foundation was no weaker than those Heavenly Dao Saints, and Nuwa would not watch the Human Race fall into such a fate.
He had merely acted on a whim, wishing to let this dying King Wen see what path Xiqi had truly taken.
Ever since Ji Chang had glimpsed the illusory scene of immortals and gods playing chess above the Sky Dome, with all living beings reduced to pieces on the board, he had fallen gravely ill and never risen again.
Deep within the Xiqi palace, the brocade curtains hanging from the dragon bed were dark as ink. Candlelight flickered unsteadily within the hall, casting mottled shadows all around as bone-piercing chill seeped through the air.
King Wen remained bedridden. Decoctions, medicines, and medicinal pills had all proven useless, and he tossed and turned through sleepless nights.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the phantom image of immortals and gods filling the sky, placing their pieces in a game. Their indifferent gazes looking down upon all beings wrapped around his mind like invisible shackles.
His vitality waned by the day. His body rapidly withered, his face turned yellow as wax paper, his eye sockets sank deep and dull, and his breathing grew as faint as a dying candle in the wind.
The entire court was deeply worried and took turns entering the palace to inquire after his health. Even though Jiang Ziya exhausted every technique, searched everywhere for spiritual pills, and depleted his cultivation to guide life force into him—
In the end, he could not break the invisible shackles of the Heavenly Dao. There was not the slightest chance of saving him.
On this day, Ji Chang watched the faint chess shadows