Wu Heng stood in the Throne Hall of the Hell Palace. The Silver Cube floated before him, its glow steady and gentle.
He raised his right hand. The Creation Fragment in his palm had already completely fused into the Trait Tree.
The fragment's power spread slowly through his body like a drop of ink falling into clear water. It was a quiet sense of fusion, seeping outward from the gaps between his bones.
He closed his eyes, and the Trait Tree's roots extended from within his body.
The roots were silvery white, as fine as strands of hair, numbering in the tens of thousands.
They passed through Hell's dark-red sky, through the human world, through Heaven's ruins, through the gray-white Barrens of Apocalypse World, and through the land of the Pestilence World that had just been purified.
The roots overlooked no corner and missed no fluctuation of energy.
Wu Heng was searching for something.
He was not searching for fragments. The fragment was already in his possession. What he sought was something that shared its origin—a connection he had only sensed after this absorption.
The Creation Fragment had not come into being out of thin air. Since it had been controlled, there must have been a creator.
God.
The roots continued extending outward, passing beyond the boundaries of this world and entering the void.
The void was neither space nor time. There was nothing there—no light, no sound, no temperature, no up or down, no left or right. Yet the roots could grow within it. They were condensed energy and required no material support.
They roamed through the void like countless invisible little snakes, probing into the unknown depths.
Time slipped away silently. Wu Heng did not know how long had passed—perhaps minutes, perhaps hours. He did not care. He