Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Thunder Lord Daoist opened his eyes. Before him stretched an endless continent.
The continent was grayish-brown from end to end, radiating an air of ancient desolation. The aura of primordial creation surged toward him.
The continent was still and dim, without the faintest sound. It was utterly silent.
Standing there, Thunder Lord Daoist felt as though he had reached the final resting place of all things, the end of life itself.
"Th-this... this place... this is!!"
His eyes widened further and further, his expression exaggerated.
"This is actually a fragment of the Ancient Nether Prison!"
"How is this possible? What kind of fortune has someone in this later age come into? To think he obtained such a treasure from the dawn of creation!"
"Mine! It's mine! This treasure and I are fated to meet. I must get my hands on it!"
Thunder Lord Daoist had been a mighty Human Race cultivator in the ancient era. Back then, although the Human Race's martial cultivation system had yet to fully mature, the world was rich in all kinds of Heavenly Treasures.
As the saying went, brute force could work miracles. Many martial artists refined medicinal treasures and forged tools, growing incredibly powerful.
Yet even in that ancient age, when spiritual energy filled the world, Innate treasures had long since vanished.
The Wutong tree that supported the world had withered during the Calamity of Heaven's Transformation, its branches and trunk felled by a mysterious Great Being. The Heavenly Court, suspended high above, had also been taken by the True Spirit Clan. The other side of the world—the Ancient Nether Prison—had shattered in the great war, fleeing into layer upon layer of space before disappearing without a trace.
By Thunder Lord Daoist's era, anyone hoping to advance to