61. The True Meaning of Death

When he arrived in Chthon's dimension again, there had been a few small changes.

—Well, actually, they were not all that small.

The dimension that had once been nothing but darkness now had quite a few damaged places, as if someone had wiped them clean with a rag, letting light shine through.

This was not a good thing. It meant Chthon's power could no longer maintain his dimension, and that light seeping in was actually the radiance of chaotic Timelines from the outer dimensions.

He Shenyan carefully avoided the holes. Being sucked in would not cause him any real trouble, but fewer problems were always better than more. Being thrown into an endlessly looping Timeline was always a tremendous hassle. He arrived at the deepest part of the Dark Dimension. In the past, Chthon would have been sitting here, seated upright upon his throne.

But now?

That familiar scarlet throne had become battered and broken, with even its corners bearing scorch marks. Chthon himself looked even more miserable. Not only was he missing an arm, but his face was also covered in bruises. When he saw He Shenyan arrive, he said nothing, merely nodded.

"If you want to laugh, then laugh," Chthon said weakly. "That's right. The great Greater Daemon Shadow, the God of the Underworld, Chthon, got ganged up on and beaten by a bunch of Angels."

The mage did not mock him. Instead, he looked around.

"How many did you kill?"

"Not many." Chthon bared his teeth in a grin. "Only half of the ones you have to deal with."

"Should I thank you, then?"

He Shenyan said it like a joke, yet Chthon actually nodded in all seriousness. "You should thank me. Old Chthon has never suffered such an insult before."

He spread both hands and began