Zhao Cheng looked upon the world as though he were reading a bound storybook.
This storybook recorded the tale of the present—clear and concise. The tales of the past were somewhat blurred, but if he looked closely, he could still make out those that were not too ancient. As for the future, it was blurred to the utmost extreme, though he could roughly glimpse some fragments of it.
Past, present, and future—all visible at once. Such was his current perspective.
As for the people within the story, when Zhao Cheng looked at ordinary people, they were like simplified bytes—extremely basic, and highly homogenized.
Then Zhao Cheng looked at himself. He discovered that he, too, resembled a book, only an exceedingly illusory one. Yet the phenomena contained within it were fundamentally different from those individual bytes and passages of text.
One had to know that even Wuluo, a Celestial Lord, was no more than a tiny chapter in the book in Zhao Cheng's eyes.
Of course, such a perspective did not affect Zhao Cheng's normal activities. To see mountains and waters as not mountains and waters—everything was controllable, entirely governed by his heart.
And in terms of power, within the Ancient Cosmos, for the time being, he could fight whoever he wanted.
Some time ago, if he had faced Wuluo, his attack power had been insufficient. He could not kill the other man, and the other man could not budge him either.
But now that his physical body had attained realization, Wuluo could move him even less. And although his defensive growth still surpassed his offensive growth, defeating Wuluo was no difficult matter.
Not long ago, Zhao Cheng had estimated that he would have to solidify his Dao Fruit before he could defeat Wuluo. Yet after later touching upon the origin