The years surged on, time roared, and an entire dimension trembled. Those strings of the dimension—leaping within the void, representing "being," the opposite of nothingness—were like plucked harp strings, playing a frenzied melody.
The past, present, and future all echoed. The extraordinary withered away, the stars turned to dust, and the familiar world was utterly transformed, revealing an unprecedented horror.
The howling gale seemed to have swept forth from an age older than the source of time itself, carrying destruction and decay. It was the final roar of dimensional spacetime and countless mighty beings after the last cycle of the four calamities.
And in the infinitely distant future, destructive lightning exploded. It was causality, it was fate, it was a net of layer upon layer of restraints; it was rules, it was order, it was that predetermined future, that absolute Heavenly Mandate. No one could attain this path!
Not even Zhao Cheng was an exception.
Under such a predetermined Heavenly Mandate, the only path before Zhao Cheng this time was annihilation.
Countless paths appeared in full at this moment, as though the dimension itself were weaving and etching out Zhao Cheng's future.
Dense destiny drowned everything, making it known, making it despair.
It was as though the most absolute truth had been laid completely bare.
So-called great freedom and great ease were nothing more than fantasies.
Even if one transcended heaven and earth, black and yellow, and reversed the universe and Primordial Chaos, one would still remain beneath the Dao.
The so-called Heavenly Dao was merely an infinitesimal part of the Dao. So long as one existed, one was within the Dao—unable to transcend, unable to be free.
Endless cultivation was no more than leaping from one cage into an even larger prison, without end, without limit.
Boom!
The radiance