"Thank you, Mr. Bai, for your help!"
At the mountaintop, the Fate Painter, dressed in white as proud as snow and holding an ebony folding fan, respectfully bowed to a man in black.
The mountain wind howled, whipping the black robes like ink-dark clouds and making them snap loudly.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, straight as a lone pine on a frozen peak, gazing indifferently down at the rolling sea of clouds.
His presence was extraordinarily contradictory. He was clearly standing there, yet he exuded an indescribable sense of ethereality and detachment.
As though he were merely a wisp of wind, a shadow between heaven and earth, liable to vanish at any moment.
The Fate Painter looked at the man in black with respect and gratitude, clasping his hands. "If not for Mr. Bai's help this time, I fear I would never have escaped Fate's control.
"Now that the Forbidden Domain has closed, Fate has also suffered grave injuries and fallen into slumber.
"I am finally free."
Mr. Bai slowly turned around, and a silver-white mask radiating a cold sheen entered the Fate Painter's sight.
He said indifferently, "In fifty years, Fate will awaken."
The Fate Painter's expression changed slightly. "Fifty years...
"Please instruct me, Mr. Bai."
"Reincarnate."
"Reincarnate?!" The Fate Painter's face grew even uglier. He naturally knew that God-Taboo Objects were indestructible and could be reborn through reincarnation.
But after reincarnation, would he still be himself?
Perhaps he would become a hooligan, a thug, or a scoundrel.
As someone who had always prided himself on his elegance, he truly found that difficult to accept.
"Mr. Bai, the Zeroing Casket is also erasing the Fate Anchors on my body. Without those anchors, even if Fate revives in fifty years, It will not be able to control