Little Eight traveled back and forth between the Void Mothership and the Corpse Refinement Synthesis Altar every day.
Having left the Wizard World community, Green had temporarily escaped the tense, storm-brewing atmosphere within the Wizard Alliance. He was conducting his final sprint of experiments before the War of Civilization, hoping to grasp his own fate in the war with greater strength and avoid becoming one of the cannon fodder casually blasted to death by those powerful World Lords and even Overlords.
After several months of nonstop experimental work, Green, feeling somewhat irritated and bored, left the Void Mothership and dove into the Boiling Sea.
"Has anything changed?"
Green asked Little Eight and Yeye, who were guarding the altar outside.
"Caw caw caw, come closer and feel it for yourself!"
Little Eight was clearly in an excellent mood.
Through the three-colored light pupils beneath his Face of Truth, Green gazed into the altar at the enormous egg over two hundred meters tall, burning with black flames. The basic framework of points and lines across its sturdy shell seemed woven from countless exquisitely minute hexagonal crystals.
The so-called black flames were merely an outward appearance.
The lava flames on the eggshell maintained the most fundamental laws of high-temperature combustion. Their intensity varied across different areas, with attack values fluctuating between 2400 and 6600. They threw the surrounding elemental vortex currents into chaos, constantly canceling each other out against the Boiling Sea, yet the fire element seemed inexhaustible.
What Green sensed through his Face of Truth at that moment, beyond those outward appearances, was the interior of the eggshell.
Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle...
The first thing he sensed was a vigorous, vibrant life-form. Its powerful heartbeat seemed to echo beside his ears, and a sense of intimacy welled up naturally within him.
This was