Wu Heng stood in the light with his eyes closed. His consciousness followed those rays outward, extending without end, like the roots of a tree spreading in every direction.
He crossed the borders of Hell, crossed the borders of the human world, passed through the ruins of Heaven, and traversed the void.
His roots touched the first world.
It was Apocalypse World.
He remembered that world: its dark-purple sky, Michael's palace, the enslaved humans, and the girl named Lucy.
His roots wound around that world and connected to it, like a rope tied to his hand at one end and to that world at the other.
He could feel that world trembling, but it did not resist. It was not that it did not wish to resist—it simply could not. His authority and his power of creation stood above that world's rules.
Just as laws stood above local regulations, and constitutions stood above laws, he was the constitution.
His roots continued extending outward.
The second world was Pestilence World, that rotten world once eroded by the Mother of Pestilence. The purified land was still recovering, while those who had been freed were still rebuilding their homes.
His roots wound around it, and it did not resist either.
The third world lay even farther away, a world ruled by demons.
There were no angels there, no humans—only demons. They devoured one another, and strength ruled supreme.
When his roots touched that world's border, a force rebounded slightly. It was instinctive resistance, like stepping on a branch while walking and making it spring back.
He did not care. His roots pierced directly through it. In his perception, that world was like a walnut—hard-shelled and hollow inside.
The fourth world was one where angels and humans coexisted.
The angels did not rule, and