And just then.
In this starry sky, chaotic to the extreme, where killing intent had nearly condensed into substance, an invisible ripple spread out from the depths of the Human Emperor Realm.
That ripple was not violent, not dazzling; it was even somewhat gentle.
But wherever it passed, every existence below the Creation Realm felt their eyes sting and their noses redden, as an indescribable, inarticulate sense of regret surged up from the deepest depths of their hearts.
Those Emperor Venerables who had lived for thousands of years, those myths who had lived for tens of thousands, actually reddened at the rims of their eyes like children in this moment.
They remembered the most regrettable things of their lives—the words they had never spoken, the people they had not had time to see, the roads they had not finished walking.
Those regrets surged in like a tide, drowning their minds and spirits.
An Ancestor of the Ancient Clans suddenly had old tears streaming down his face. His withered hands covered his face, his shoulders shaking violently.
The comrade beside him wanted to ask what was wrong, but when he opened his mouth, he discovered that his own eyes had reddened too, his throat choked so tightly he could not say a single word.
This regret was too dense.
So dense that the entire starry sky trembled along with it, so dense that the offensives of those in the Creation Sequence stalled for an instant, so dense that the five suppressed Creation Realm beings beneath the body of the Heaven Abyss War God Hall stopped struggling, their minds seized by that sense of regret.
A figure walked out from the Human Emperor Realm.
His white hair was like snow, drifting lightly in the stellar wind.
His face was firm, his eyes