The clear sky remained as vast as ever, and the warmth of mortal life continued as usual.
Douluo Continent basked in post-cataclysm stability. Most living beings had long forgotten the terror of the apocalypse, gradually believing that darkness had vanished forever, the gods' deception had been completely buried, and no more danger would descend upon the world.
Only the strongest experts remained tense day and night.
That fleeting bloody Sky Screen Resonance from that day was like an icy spike driven into the hearts of everyone who had witnessed the world's destruction.
Everyone knew that peace was merely an illusion. Darkness had never truly withdrawn, and the disasters left behind by the old era still ran deep through this land.
Outside the ruins of Spirit City.
Bibi Dong walked through shattered streets and alleys, dressed plainly and calm, no longer carrying her former domineering hostility.
After leaving Spirit City's center of power, she had traveled the continent alone, healing the wounds of war while secretly investigating the abnormalities in heaven and earth.
Along the way, she discovered something horrifying.
The war had long ended, the Dark Envoy had fallen, and the gods had completely perished.
Yet in remote mountain villages, hidden valleys, and wilderness ruins throughout the continent, countless ancient altars still remained.
Those altars were covered in dust and had long been left untended. Their designs were ancient and obscure. They had not been built by human sects, nor were they inheritances of Soul Beast faith.
The altar patterns were dim and aged, faintly carrying a weak divine aura—cold, decayed, and sinister. They were precisely the lingering echoes of the long-extinct old gods.
What was even more terrifying was this.
Even without worshippers, officiants, or offerings, those altars were still operating on their own.
Wisps of Plane Origin were