A vast voice rang out.
It did not travel through vibrations in the air, but sounded directly within the depths of every soul.
Clear and calm, it carried a faint, almost imperceptible sigh of relief.
"Path..."
The voice continued to flow. With every syllable uttered, corresponding Law phenomena faintly emerged between heaven and earth.
With the first word, "Dao," countless phantom stars flickered, rose, and perished above the heavens, playing out the weaving and shattering of rules.
When the word "path" emerged, ten thousand hazy roads of light spread forth. Some were broad and bright, some covered in thorn vines, and some came to an abrupt halt at their very beginning. Countless phantom figures walked upon them—some forging ahead with resolve, some lingering in bewilderment, some crashing down in ruin.
"Too... difficult..."
When those two syllables, heavy with sighing, fell, all the illusory roads seemed to bear an unbearable weight, their surfaces covered in cracks like tortoise shells.
A desolate loneliness, the exhaustion of watching a thousand sails pass by, soaked into everyone's Dao heart.
Yet these plain, utterly unadorned words and the Law phenomena resonating with them were like a key, unlocking the deepest confusion and uncertainty within every living being present concerning the road ahead.
Regardless of cultivation, regardless of race, all felt it as though it were their own.
After that brief sigh, the ethereal figure slightly raised its head. Perhaps it was merely a movement of thought. Facing this world that he had created at immense cost during his lifetime, and which was now on the verge of destruction, he began his true transmission of the Dao.
There was no profound, lengthy discourse, nor was it an exposition of any particular Law.
The voice seemed to be telling a simple story—a story about "existence" itself.
The