The Deepest Part of Chaos

One hundred and eight elves, one hundred and eight weapons, one hundred and eight gazes—all fell upon the Abyss Great Lord.

That aura was too powerful.

So powerful that the surrounding chaos trembled violently.

Struck by that aura, the gray mist scattered like smoke blown by the wind, retreating outward from Chu Ming.

As it retreated, the mist quivered like frightened animals.

The tremors spread in all directions from where Chu Ming stood, like a stone dropped into a lake, sending ripple after ripple across the surface.

Wherever the ripples passed, chaos was torn apart, exposing strips of pristine void.

The Abyss Great Lord whirled around.

The instant Chu Ming appeared, its senses had caught that aura.

It was not the aura of someone who had only just entered the Dao Lord realm. His realm was already stable—he was even close to the level of a mid-stage Dao Lord.

That pressure was like a great mountain crushing down upon it, like an ocean drowning it beneath its waves.

It recognized the power of order within Chu Ming.

It had seen that power countless eras ago.

It was the aura of an ancient orthodoxy, one that had battled the abyss through countless eras.

The master of that orthodoxy had once sealed its kin by his own strength, nailing them to the edge of the Source Sea for thirty thousand years, unable to break free.

That orthodoxy's power contained something it could not comprehend.

It was not restraint, but the negation of "negation."

The abyss's nothingness negated existence; the power of order negated nothingness.

The two forces were like water and fire, yin and yang, light and darkness—opposed to one another, canceling one another out.

It was afraid.

The eyes across the surface of its body blinked frantically.

Some were opened wide,