The forty-nine-headed flesh sphere was a complex whole.
The Nameless One's power was unmatched throughout all ages, and the problems he faced had never existed before or since.
All these years, he had never truly solved those problems. To be a sage within and a king without was the proof of eternity. Yet inwardly, he could not unify all things; outwardly, he naturally could not crush everything. This was called, "Unable to be a sage within, one has no means to be king without."
At this moment, the forty-nine heads exploded in succession. His regeneration could no longer keep pace with the explosions, and after every breath, the number of heads was tangibly decreasing.
Nor was that all. The flesh and blood within the sphere began tearing itself apart, turning this mass of flesh into a battlefield as countless strange beasts rose in revolt. Tearing, biting, devouring, roaring. All things possessed spirit, and all desired freedom.
He had swallowed Huang Weizhen's Fantasy Made Real. Every scrap of flesh Huang Weizhen had given him had been endowed with spirit!
It was precisely this damned Fantasy Made Real method that had made him run into wall after wall over the past nearly two years.
He had missed many genuine opportunities, yet now, after those opportunities had passed, he still did not dare determine what was real and what was false.
If it happened again, he would still miss them!
He almost felt that the flames of war raging throughout his body, this plight of conflicting foreign substances, was merely a fantasy.
But fantasies would inevitably come true.
There was no difference between fantasy and reality.
What, then, was real? What was false?
He had seen through the paths of all sages and exhausted the principles of The Present World, yet he still