"So this is the truth of the disaster..."
Wuluo murmured. The long years had long since made him incomparably indifferent—or rather, indifference was his nature.
Other than himself, nothing mattered.
So long as he could survive...
He had been the sort of person who would stop at nothing to stay alive from the day he was born.
Yet now, upon glimpsing a corner of the truth, beyond terror, an almost imperceptible thread of fury still arose in his heart, impossible to restrain.
Wuluo had thought he had already seen himself through completely. After all, seeing clearly into one's own heart was a step that ran through the entirety of cultivation.
But at this moment, Wuluo abruptly realized: how could the word "completely" be so easily spoken of?!
The Great Thousand Worlds were deep and boundless; so too was his own heart.
So-called omniscience was merely the arrogance of always thinking oneself right.
Though anger filled his heart, Wuluo did not hesitate in the slightest when it came to fleeing. He had no intention of being driven by fury to self-destruct against that blood-red entity, determined to splash the black hand behind the curtain with blood even in death.
He had never been that kind of warrior.
Nor did he consider himself a coward. This was not timidity, but his way of survival.
There were ten million kinds of hearts. Courage was indeed a beautiful kind of heart, but it did not suit him.
At this moment, within his spirit, his explorations of the multiverse and the knowledge passed on by his friend mingled together in his spiritual world. That thread of anger beyond his control did not disrupt his thoughts. Instead, it became a flame unprecedented in his spiritual world, blazing fiercely as it melted and forged the "solid ice"