Only a very few people knew that Zhao Cheng was still contending with the Dao Lord for the Dao. Everything was far from settled, but some grave problem must have arisen within Zhao Cheng himself—otherwise, he could not possibly have abandoned his foundation.
Dimensional spacetime—or rather, the Infinite World composed of countless dimensions—was an immensely vital source of power.
Otherwise, the Gray Calamity could never have spread throughout the Infinite World.
"Wishes create miracles, forging the false into truth. Yet even the Eleventh Pillar, which embodies miracles, must still abide by the most fundamental principle of equivalence. Only when there is something one cannot forget can there be an echo. Different wishes require different stakes to fulfill..."
Zhou Yu fished as he murmured to himself.
Ten thousand years passed in the blink of an eye. By some people's reckoning, the wishes accumulated over ten thousand years should have caused at least some movement. No matter how slight that movement was, it would still have been tremendous reassurance—the difference between something and nothing.
Yet the truth was that as ten thousand years turned, not even the faintest ripple had been stirred.
"The light ahead cannot be seen; the winding road cannot be finished. This was never a battlefield I should have entered, but even ants cling to life..."
Within the Dao Fields of the saints, the Blood Saint too spoke to himself.
He was very clear-headed—or rather, he had been clear-headed from beginning to end.
Indeed, throughout his journey, it could be said that he had done everything within his power as well as it could possibly be done.
Whether it was in that distant age, when he had unhesitatingly cast aside his Dao God body and everything else that could be abandoned, seeking only enough purity to follow the Dao