Qingyuan Watches Coldly; the Great Dao Fishing Rod Moves Again? How Did It Hook Something Like This?

North of Golden Ao Island, on the beach.

The sea breeze blew in from the depths of the East Sea, carrying salty moisture and the fishy scent of moss from distant reefs. Wave after wave, it swept across the beach, lifting the fine sand along the shore before letting it slowly settle.

The waves rolled in without end, breaking into white foam not far from the Darkened Wood tea table, then retreating with soft, fragmented sounds.

Qingyuan reclined in a bamboo chair, holding half a cup of tea between his fingers. The tea was clear and emerald green, its steam curling upward before spinning once in the wind and dispersing.

He looked toward the line where sea met sky, relaxed as though he were a hermit stealing a moment of leisure by the shore. Yet his eyes were so deep that they seemed capable of holding the entire East Sea within them.

He knew perfectly well about the commotion the five Heavenly Dao Saints had stirred up in the game.

Whether Saints or ordinary players, in the end, they were all doing the same thing.

Desperately surviving before the flood arrived, then uncovering the true secret of the game [Great Flood]!

And the very process of "surviving" was what he wanted.

Every flood, every player's death and rebirth, was injecting new vitality into his New Primordial Wilderness.

The current New Primordial Wilderness was already completely different from when heaven and earth had first been opened. The mountains and lands had gained color, living creatures filled the seas and rivers, the Myriad Races were awakening from ignorance bit by bit, and the seeds of civilization had taken root and sprouted under the conscious or unconscious nurturing of countless players.

If it continued accumulating at this rate and experienced the rise and