On this day, at this very moment, Zhou Yu unusually was not fishing. As he sat in meditation, his gaze fixed on the farthest edge where water met sky, seeming to pierce through time and space, as well as the absolute barrier evolved by the Crown of the Most Sacred, to behold the scene of destruction outside.
Countless twisted Dimensional Strings danced madly. A normal dimension was a single line, but those lifeforms that, under the power of the apocalypse, had no choice but to merge with dimensions, devouring who knew how many of them and forcibly climbing to the eighth rank—the dimensions representing their forms were no longer lines, but tangled, distorted masses.
"The final hour is here, old man. There isn't much time left."
At some point, Zhou Qing had appeared beside Zhou Yu.
"What final hour? The Great Sage is merely absent, so demons and monsters are rising again."
Zhou Yu's expression remained utterly calm, as though nothing that was about to happen could move him.
"Still, Zhou Qing, guess—which of those Federation people is the Dao Lord's emissary?!"
"The one plotting for that crucial thing cannot possibly be some peripheral figure in the Cosmic Federation. They can only be a core figure—perhaps even the core of the core."
Zhou Yu suddenly asked.
Hearing this, Zhou Qing spread his hands helplessly. "Old man, asking me that—have you gone senile?!"
"How could I possibly know something like that?"
"But if we're talking about core figures, old man, aren't you the most central figure of all? You practically grew up wearing the same pair of pants as the Great Heavenly Venerable. No, wait, you may really have worn the same pair. I shouldn't jump to conclusions."
"Honestly, there's no point in guessing about this sort of thing."
"So what