Trans-dimensional travel was a privilege that belonged to the few.
It had nothing to do with power. It was more like a talent with no logic to trace.
It did not belong only to the strong. Many Trans-dimensional Mages could not even sustain spellcasting for long the first time they used their talent. Yet in the end, without exception, they all became powerful and ancient beings.
Did you think that was a good thing?
No. It was more like a curse.
Becoming a Trans-dimensional Mage meant that with a wave of your hand, you could obtain everything ordinary people spent their whole lives scheming and striving to pursue.
Worldly power and wealth would lose their appeal. So would desire for the opposite sex. Anything that had once brought you joy would vanish.
In the end, they could only seek more.
Creating worlds as playgrounds, shaping perfect heroes, then dyeing their pure white souls pitch-black.
Or else throwing themselves into endless research, pushing the power they controlled to ever deeper levels, becoming knowledge addicts with insatiable cravings.
One thing was beyond doubt: no matter what method you chose to pass this tortured immortality, your humanity would be alienated and disappear, bit by bit.
Of course, humans were not the only race in the White Tower. Therefore, humanity was actually quite a broad concept. It could be human nature, or it could be an Elf's "spirituality," a demon's "demonic nature."
At that thought, He Shenyan smiled meanly. The Trans-dimensional travel had ended. He recalled a famous line on the White Tower Council's Internal Network.
Nothing has meaning.
Was that so?
Perhaps.
He stretched out his right hand and tore open the boundary between reality and nightmare. Without the slightest scruple, he entered the Warp. The sight before his eyes was extremely similar