The little hill, over a hundred meters high, was barren from end to end. Not even a blade of wild grass could be found.
Zhao Xiaoxiang stood atop the desolate hill, gazing down over the land and sensing with her spirit this world that was marching toward destruction.
At her level, she could clearly sense the distinct feeling of extinction permeating the spacetime of heaven and earth.
In truth, the Primordial Chaos Game created by Zhao Cheng was not without similar small maps. She had entered and played through the raid instances that had opened before, but she simply had not obtained one of those ten thousand slots.
After all, the criteria for selection into raid instances did not lie in whether one was strong or not.
Though she had already reached the Mythology realm, in terms of temperament, she was hardly someone overflowing with universal love. She might seem perfectly normal in ordinary times, capable of laughing, raging, teasing, and scolding, but toward strangers, she was in fact very cold. She rather embodied the notion of having no urge to help others and respecting each person's fate.
It was only because Zhao Cheng usually presented himself as being closer to the side of justice that she followed his example, appearing to lean toward the orderly faction.
Those capable of becoming Mythology were all intensely self-centered people. Selflessness and self-forgetfulness could indeed make one very powerful, but there were certain realms one would be fated never to attain.
Yet in Zhao Xiaoxiang's perception at this moment, she keenly discovered that the Primordial Chaos Game and true reality were ultimately separated by something.
What one cultivated within the Primordial Chaos Game was certainly not false, but it still differed ever so slightly from what one cultivated in the true heaven and