After all, a single Great Dao law was not especially powerful compared to others at the same level. Only by fusing such laws could one give rise to a greater power.
It was like gathering every bit of strength into one force. The power it unleashed naturally far surpassed scattered strength.
Even the mightiest Saint who commanded a Dao would be assimilated by Chaos and perish when the day came for Chaos to return to the Return Ruins.
That might sound like a short time, but it was extraordinarily long. The span from the birth of Chaos to its end was one Chaos Epoch.
How long was a Chaos Epoch? Perhaps only those who had succeeded in merging with their Daos—or beings above them—had a vague idea. It was not that they could not know; the span was simply so vast that they would not bother to remember or calculate it.
Once someone merged with their Dao, it meant Chaos had acknowledged that Dao as separate from its own. Unless they were killed, they could exist in Chaos forever. Chaos could never wear them away, and even the great calamity at an epoch's end could not assimilate them.
Nor was comprehending more Great Dao laws necessarily better. Each person had to know their own limits.
The more Great Dao laws one comprehended, the harder it became to merge with them. The difficulty rose exponentially, and failure with even one law meant losing everything.
At that point, it did not matter whether one had merged with a Dao. The Dao of Chaos might be unable to touch them, but they would have destroyed themselves.
Among the fragmented memories were ambitious Saints who commanded more Great Dao laws than they could bear. When the time came to merge with their Daos, they