Primordial Civilization

At the very center of the vast nebula, in the void surrounding the Dark Butterfly wormhole, three cultivators stood locked in a tense confrontation.

The reason they were Head-to-Head was an ancient, battered stone gateway, barely wide enough for a single person to pass through.

This stone door floated quietly near the Dark Butterfly wormhole, which was as large as a mountain range. It looked utterly inconspicuous.

Yet anyone with sufficiently keen senses could clearly perceive that this mysterious stone door constantly radiated profound, enigmatic fluctuations.

"Ao Zheng!"

Not far from the stone door, a cultivator covered head to toe in bone armor and shaped like a lizardman crossed his arms and snorted coldly. "With that pathetic scrap of true essence power, you think you deserve to compete for entry into this ancient ruin? Go back and train for another three hundred years!"

"Bullshit!"

Across from the bone-armored lizardman, a burly red-skinned, one-horned man with knotted muscles roared furiously, "You've only got a few more points of true essence power than me! If we really fight, I can still take you down!"

Curiously enough, though the two cursed each other viciously, they vaguely formed a united front as they warily studied the third cultivator—a small, pale-skinned lifeform with four dark-blue eyes.

"Hmph. Two pieces of trash whose true essence power doesn't even exceed 500."

The scrawny four-eyed fellow sneered coldly. "Even if I let you enter, what then? If you obtained some treasure, would you even know how to use it? This ruin—it was meant to belong to me!"

After saying that, the three stopped talking and began silently releasing wave after wave of true essence fluctuations, testing each other from afar.

For a time, the thin stardust within a hundred thousand miles churned ceaselessly under the disturbance of their