The ten squads were ten vessels, representing the marks of ten powerhouses qualified to pursue Primordial Blue Star and capable of reaching this place.
In truth, over the long ages, far more than ten had been able to reach this place. Yet only these ten were qualified to manifest in such a "ritual."
Of course, such qualification was not determined entirely by strength. It also depended on intangible things such as fate, karma... and so on.
These various intangibles did not merely point toward Zhao Cheng; they also pointed toward Primordial Blue Star. Within lay a formula complex to the extreme.
Of course, no matter how it was calculated, for now, there could only be battle.
Though these ten marks of powerhouses were merely wisps of old dreams, their very scale subject to layer upon layer of restrictions, all confined beneath the level of true gods—once their scale exceeded that of a true god, they would awaken directly from the dream—
The same scale, in different hands, could produce utterly different results.
Naturally, every participant in this battle had their own thoughts and their own desires.
It was precisely because they desired something that ten powerhouses who had already reached a certain absolute summit appeared here in this form.
Where there was pursuit, there was conflict.
And for these invincible beings who truly stood forever upon the peak, the most ancient and the strongest of all, once they had something they sought, the struggle had long since begun. Everything here was merely one corner of their vast tapestry of war.
From every angle, across every dimension, in every direction, battles fierce beyond measure and stretching into infinity had never ceased.
Countless spacetime dimensions had withered within them, countless glorious things had collapsed, countless great undertakings had been annihilated. Infinite worlds