Ling Xiao moved through the endless battlefield, comprehending and absorbing the Dao from every side.
The Dao he cultivated was the Infinite Great Dao, a Dao that sought to contain everything, without limits.
Therefore, any Dao was useful to him. Even the faintest shred of help was exceedingly precious.
A great war had erupted between the Origin True Realm and the Mythic Battlefield, dragging in all living beings of the myriad heavens and worlds, and every powerhouse from ancient times to the present.
To Ling Xiao, this was a rare and precious opportunity. He could clearly feel his Infinite Great Dao slowly growing stronger.
Every moment, every instant, his power was rising.
As though it would never end.
Yet Ling Xiao vaguely sensed that he had touched upon something.
He had encountered a bottleneck. That meant that once he shattered this obstacle, he would be able to attain the Great Dao of Infinity.
"Kill!"
The frenzied cries of slaughter rang across every battlefield. None of the Twelve Realms were spared; all were baptized by the flames of war.
Ling Xiao watched the slaughter around him, the world of blood and fire, without sorrow or joy.
He did not act. He sat quietly at the center of what had once been the Mythic Battlefield, comprehending the changes around him.
At this moment, nothing in the world had anything to do with him. Ling Xiao's mind had entered a state both profound and mysterious.
He appeared to be sitting there, yet none of the surrounding powerhouses—not even the ancestors—noticed his existence.
It was as though he did not belong to this era, this time and space.
"Why... why does this feel so familiar, as though everything is but flowers in a mirror and the moon in the water?"
A thought arose within