The empty void before him began to twist violently.
It folded in on itself, like a painting kneaded by an invisible giant hand.
At last, with a crisp crack.
A fissure beyond description, as though cleaved open by an unrivaled heavenly blade, slowly spread through the void.
Behind the fissure was neither raging spatial turbulence nor endless darkness.
Instead, there was a boundless white unknown world. Its details were impossible to make out, but faint outlines of shattered mountains and rivers and ancient buildings could be sensed within.
A desolate ancient aura, as though blown from the previous epoch, mingled with the grief and unwillingness of fallen gods.
It rushed out of the fissure, making Yang Lingtian's robes billow and snap.
The entrance to the Ancient Land of Fallen Gods had appeared.
The instant the entrance to the Ancient Land of Fallen Gods fully opened.
Yang Lingtian's heart, stirred by the sight of the entrance, suddenly stopped.
It was as though an invisible giant hand had seized it in a death grip, leaving him short of breath.
Within that desolate ancient aura blown from the previous epoch.
Within the boundless grief and unwillingness of the fallen gods, he caught a trace of aura.
That aura was so faint, like a speck of dust amid a raging storm.
Or a drop of water in a vast ocean, liable to be completely submerged and assimilated at any moment.
Yet this faint aura, faint to the point of being almost imperceptible.
It was like thunder spanning time and space and the epochs, exploding with a boom deep within his Divine Soul.
It was an aura familiar enough to be carved into his bones—the aura of his wife, Yiyue.
"Yiyue!" A sharp glint flashed through Yang Lingtian's eyes.
He could sense that Yiyue's aura