A way to survive...
At her words, Shi Lan froze, not quite understanding what Lingyun meant.
"The age we live in will inevitably reach its end. When that day comes, the heavens will shatter and the myriad worlds wither. All of us—including you, your friends and family, and your clan and descendants—will turn to ashes."
Lingyun did not speak. A voice came from deep within the hall, and a figure emerged at an unhurried pace. He wore a black robe, and a thin veil of mist shrouded his face. Only his deep, pitch-black eyes were visible; they seemed to reflect a vast universe, with the power of space and time flowing within them.
Though the black-robed figure stood close at hand, Shi Lan felt an insurmountable distance between them, as if they were gazing at each other across time and space.
The instant he appeared, Shi Lan's connection to Samsara was severed. It was as if some mysterious force had suppressed Samsara, plunging it into slumber.
"My name is 'Meng.' I was the first master of the Spirit Martial Hall, and once the ruler of the Divine Martial Realm."
"Greetings, senior." Shi Lan's heart gave a sudden jolt, and she bowed. The person before her was an ancient monster who had lived through an unknowable number of years.
The Spirit Martial Hall had been passed down for countless ages. It had already existed long before the current Futian calendar began.
The years Meng had personally lived through were beyond imagining.
"To weather this calamity, we need more allies. You have the potential to become one." Meng spoke briefly and to the point, his voice utterly calm, flat as water.
"May I ask, senior, what is the root of this calamity?" Shi Lan suppressed the turmoil in her heart, her brows