A New Transmigrator: What Rotten Fish or Shrimp Was Qingyuan? Why Didn't the Six Heavenly Dao Saints Come to Arrest Me?

Qingyuan withdrew his hand.

The projection had completely dissipated.

The data streams had snapped like severed meridians, their broken ends still giving off scorched blue smoke.

The program had crashed like a pulverized soul, its wreckage still flickering with light that had yet to die.

The system had collapsed like a giant beast stripped of its skeleton, crashing down and raising dust throughout the cave abode.

The technological barriers, Stellar Cannons, Laser Array, and Two-Dimensional Foil inside the cave abode had all become scrap metal.

The scrap lay scattered throughout the cave abode like empty shells drained of all their power, deathly still and cold, without the slightest trace of life.

Qingyuan glanced at the wreckage.

His gaze was indifferent, as though he were looking at a pile of rubble that had nothing to do with him.

He recalled the mountains he had seen along the way.

Those mountains had towered majestically, each piercing the clouds, their peaks capped with snow that had never melted through the ages.

Ancient vegetation covered their slopes, rich spiritual energy flowing within it, so dense it almost condensed into liquid and dripped down along the veins of the leaves.

Mist filled the spaces between those mountains, carrying the aura of the Great Dao, every wisp a fragment of a law.

Then he imagined what sort of disaster those technological barriers, Stellar Cannons, Laser Array, and Two-Dimensional Foil would have inflicted upon those mountains if they had all unleashed their power.

His brow furrowed slightly.

The image flashed through his mind like a cold wind brushing the back of his neck.

He shook his head.

The motion was light, as though he were brushing a speck of dust off his shoulder.

Such paltry tricks would have had no effect whatsoever on the Primordial Wilderness!

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