The barrier began to change under the infusion of six laws.
It shifted from colorless to transparent.
Colorless meant "having no color," while transparent meant "you could see what lay behind it."
What was behind the barrier? "Nothing."
Not the void, but "chaos that had not yet become anything."
But now, through the transparent barrier, one could see that "nothing."
It changed from transparent to translucent.
That "nothing" behind the barrier began to take on "form."
Not a concrete form, but the form of "what it could possibly become."
Like a blank canvas—you had yet to see the painting, but you knew the canvas was there.
It changed from translucent to milky white.
That "nothing" had been defined by the six laws.
It had not been defined as any particular color, but as "having color."
Milky white, like diluted milk, like crushed pearls.
Across the surface of the milky-white barrier, those hexagonal specks of light expanded.
From the size of needlepoints to the size of fingernails, from fingernails to fists.
As the specks expanded, they continuously absorbed the radiance of the six laws: crimson-gold order, blood-red slaughter, deep-blue water, scarlet fire, azure wind, and earth-yellow earth.
All colors intertwined, fused, and separated within the specks.
Then a map surfaced upon the barrier.
It had not been drawn there, but had "grown" there.
Those lines seeped out from within the barrier, like tree roots growing from the soil, like blood vessels surfacing through muscle.
The lines were not a single color, but constantly shifting.
Gold one moment, silver the next, then black, then white.
Every color interwove across the map, forming an immense, intricate, three-dimensional tableau.
A map of the Abyss Sea.
Not the Abyss Sea as Chu Ming understood it.
The Abyss Sea was chaotic, disorderly, and unpredictable.
The Abyss