Inside the cultivation chamber, the Silver Cube's glow shone across Wu Heng's face.
He opened his eyes, and a trace of daze still lingered in his pupils. That life—from infant to old man, from ignorance to acceptance—had felt like a dream, yet also like a real memory.
He could no longer remember that ordinary man's face, but he remembered the feelings—the mundane, trivial, unremarkable yet incomparably real days.
He lowered his head and looked at his hands.
The lines on his palms were still the same, but he knew something had changed. That strand of authority had completely fused into his body, into his Creation Trait.
It was no longer an external tool, but a part of himself. Like a detonator inserted into explosives, he could set it off whenever he wanted.
He rose to his feet and walked out of the cultivation chamber.
Hell's sky outside was still dark red. In the distance, the newly built complex glowed, its golden halo like a thin veil. He stood there, gazing at that light for a long time.
Martin came down the corridor. "President, you were in seclusion for seven days."
Seven days. It had felt like he had lived an entire lifetime.
"How is Heaven coming along?"
Martin brought up the data panel.
"The final hall has been topped off. According to your blueprint, the entire complex is now one hundred percent complete. Clayton said this is the most precise replica of Heaven currently possible. Every pillar, every archway, every window is identical to the blueprint."
Wu Heng took the data panel, flipped through it, then closed it. "Let's take a look."
He left the Hell Palace and headed toward the complex.
Martin followed behind him. Clayton, Sophia, Lynn, Derek, Herman, along with the experts and designers, were all waiting