Fang Mo sat down against a broken corridor pillar.
It was not that he wanted to sit. His legs could no longer hold him up.
The meridians throughout his body had been repeatedly overtaxed in the battle. Although the Five Elements Cycle of his Five Viscera Divine Treasures was still running, its speed had dropped to thirty percent of normal.
Nine Nether Spring Surge seeped from his Kidney Palace, repairing, little by little, the tiny wounds torn open inside him by the collision of laws.
Fang Mo laid the God Slaying Saber across his knees and closed his eyes.
Inside his Sea of Consciousness, the memory fragments left after being filtered by the Prison Suppressor Patterns were arranging and combining themselves.
Most of the fragments concerned the Spiritual Terrace Burial Cosmos God King's true body.
Fang Mo saw an endless void, twelve figures so enormous they blotted out the heavens arranged in a ring within it, and, at the very top of that ring, a throne woven from countless consciousnesses.
That was Spiritual Terrace Burial Cosmos's place.
Head of the Twelve Divine Kings, presiding over all emotions and desires, controlling the foundations of consciousness in every sentient being.
But these memories were too old, so old they resembled water-soaked paper, blurred beyond recognition. He could see only outlines, not details.
Fang Mo set these blurred memories aside for the moment and turned his attention to another set of fragments.
The images in this set were much clearer, and far more recent, dating to roughly six hundred years ago.
Fang Mo saw a White Bone Coffin being carried from the wasteland of the Northern Border into a newly completed Imperial Palace.
He saw a middle-aged man in a dragon robe standing before the coffin, his expression a mixture of fear and