Beyond the outside world.
Beyond the Azure Heaven, in the Chaos Void.
Below, two figures were treading toward the heavens.
Beneath their feet, Great Dao Heavenly Pillars burst thunderously from the void one after another. Like colossal pillars holding up the sky, and like steps laid down by Tiandi itself, they extended tier by tier toward the end of that endless firmament. With every step they took, the heavenly pillars trembled for a breath, Dao Patterns circulating over them like the deep, powerful heartbeat of antiquity.
Tiandi gradually receded.
The end of the Great Dao drew near.
That was the Azure Heaven Forbidden Grounds, where the Heavenly Dao had fallen.
By all rights, this place should have been steeped in eternal deathly silence, a realm of utter extinction where not even the void remained—yet, there was an Immortal Tree standing here.
Vast. Boundless. No words could measure the spread of its crown, nor could any gaze see the end of its roots.
It stood there, holding up the firmament that should have utterly collapsed, holding up the final thread of life of the Heavenly Dao that should have perished hundreds of millions of years ago.
Something ancient and warm flowed quietly between its branches and leaves, ferrying this land of death, which should have been cold beyond measure, into a frozen eternity.
Time stood still, neither advancing nor retreating.
All tragedy, all phenomena, had been fixed in the final instant before the Heavenly Dao's demise, like a painting abruptly pinned down by a divine hand—cracked but unbroken, collapsing but unscattered—hanging there through who knew how many eras.
And throughout the Chaos Void, cracks spread everywhere.
As though countless star rivers had shattered with a thunderous roar, then been forcibly nailed in place.
Those cracks crisscrossed one another, deep and dark.