Did the Ancient Sun God really not want to return that badly?
Hard work paid off. After all that effort, I'd actually managed to provoke quite a commotion—a victory for conspiracy theories, if ever there was one.
Though, to Fu Qian, what he was seeing was more than a little counterintuitive.
There were plenty of possible explanations. In theory, the sun had already fallen completely, just like Ariel had once done. The questioner had merely summoned a divine descent under special conditions.
So while the power was immense, it contained no will of the Ancient Sun God. It was simply that after seeing a fiend like him, the power of light couldn't hold back any longer.
Fu Qian was familiar with the sort of atmosphere where everyone wanted him dead, but it still felt a little too bleak.
There was even a subtle inconsistency here—if it was so fierce now, why had it been so subdued before?
Don't forget: from the beginning until just now, he hadn't seen a single thing that could be called light. It had let a fiend like him rampage and wreak havoc wherever he pleased.
If he hadn't made full use of a professional's suspicion, he might not have realized such a formidable power was lying in wait until Etched Wisdom shattered for the third time.
From that perspective, it seemed to show a degree of agency after all, making the whole impression feel oddly disjointed.
Unfortunately, beyond hearing from those few short sentences that its faith had become corrupted, the person involved had no desire to communicate at all.
Amid its frenzied laughter, even its illusory, overlapping body was rapidly dissipating. It seemed to have finally found release amid purity and unblemished light—and even managed to enlighten all living beings along the way.
The