The trials of reincarnation through the first ninety-nine lives had let him experience countless human lives. During them, although most of the time he had been dragged by the current of historical inertia and all manner of doubts, those emperor's negative emotions had always been subtly drawing him into the depths.
But in the end, not only had he endured them, in some of the later trials he had even been able to take the initiative himself, resisting temptation while trying to help that emperor's negative emotions clear away some of the ancient historical inertia left over from his life, using those ancient memories to perfect all kinds of cultivation methods, secret arts, pill formulas, and other systems.
At this moment, Lin Ming's soul was crouched low in the void of consciousness, raising ripples of reincarnation.
"The last life..."
A faint voice. There was no fear, no agitation, not even any clear anticipation. There was only a kind of calm that had been tempered through a thousand trials and a hundred refinements, close to instinct, a deep gaze into the texture within every glimmer of the soul.
Lin Ming could clearly sense that the ultimate darkness sealed in the deepest part of the Reincarnation Domain before him was utterly different from all the negative emotions from before.
It was no longer merely an aggregate of energy or emotion, but contained the most fundamental resentful thoughts of that black-robed emperor at the moment of his fall, as well as a surviving fragment of will that belonged to the emperor's level.
That dark core was not too large; it was even somewhat compact.
It was only the size of a fingertip, suspended in the center of the sea of consciousness. Across its surface flowed black ripples that could swallow every trace of