With that thought in mind, Zhao Cheng began to explore whether, using the two anchor points of the present and future, he could also condense an anchor point of his own in the past.
Previously, he had been unable to do this. Given his power and understanding of space-time, without an existing anchor point, he could not effectively interfere with parallel time-spaces.
And it was not just him. Even overlord-class civilizations were the same.
When they crossed parallel time-spaces, if they could not find an anchor point, they first had to devise a way to construct one.
The earlier one attained the Dao, the greater the advantage—this was why.
The earlier one attained the Dao, the easier it was to locate anchor points in parallel time-spaces. But if one was too late, space-time would shift and head in another direction, and the anchor points would naturally cease to exist.
In a distant parallel time-space, two anchor points shone, bursting with radiance that only Zhao Cheng could sense.
Meanwhile, in that segment of time-space artificially partitioned off as the past, a firefly-like glimmer slowly lit up. But it flickered only once before going out.
In reality, Zhao Cheng opened his eyes, already knowing that constructing anchor points through resonance along the timeline was feasible.
It was just that his computational power was still insufficient. Even in the laboratory-like environment created through artificial partitioning, where endless variables had been reduced, those that remained were still vast and complex.
Constructing an anchor point through a timeline required precisely locating that instant of resonance amid the torrential flood of complex space-time information, then capturing massive amounts of space-time information and solidifying it.
There was no doubt as to the strength of Zhao Cheng's current computational power. For a long time, he had never