Jiang Ding sat on the throne.
He gazed quietly at the empty palace.
Behind him, the phantom vortices of six worlds slowly formed and faded. This palace, now called the Black Demon Palace, had once been the Six Paths Reincarnation Palace, built by the founding patriarch of the Six Paths Sect, a great demonic sect of the previous Northern Plains era.
After Jiang Ding conquered this central palace of the Northern Plains, he renamed it the Black Demon Palace. He had thought it absurdly arrogant for a mere Spirit Transformation sect to claim the name of the Six Paths of Reincarnation.
But now, perhaps he could restore its original name?
Out in the endless stars, perhaps the Six Paths of Reincarnation he now commanded could be said to contain a sliver of their true essence. Perhaps the name would fit?
Jiang Ding sank into thought.
After a long while, he slowly shook his head.
Not enough. Nowhere near enough.
He was still far too distant.
In the endless cosmic starfield, his present achievements were no more than those of an ant.
The higher he climbed, the more keenly he felt his own insignificance. He could see that nearly despair-inducing chasm clearly: the barrier that had stopped generation after generation of the universe's prodigies, children of True Immortals and offspring of dragons and phoenixes alike.
What did his paltry achievements amount to?
Taking the name of the Six Paths was a road to certain death, far more dangerous for him than it had been for the Six Paths Sect of the Northern Plains.
"When a child plays make-believe and babbles about being a general or an emperor, who cares?"
"Even the most brutal ruler would do nothing. Quarreling with a child would be too shameful and only tarnish his own name."