Within this endless void, Lin Wan's consciousness was like a faint glimmer sinking into the deep sea, drifting without anything to cling to.
A sphere of light soon appeared ahead.
Warm and gentle, like a winter hearth, like a mother's embrace.
The light was not dazzling. Instead, it carried a strange pull that drew Lin Wan's consciousness toward it.
The closer he got, the more clearly he sensed the mystery within this ball of light.
It was not pure.
Beneath its warm, gentle exterior, Lin Wan sensed three completely different layers of power.
The outermost layer, and the heaviest one, carried a faint chill.
That chill was not piercing. Instead, it possessed an unchanging, eternal quality, like a glacier that had endured for ten thousand years—silent and solemn.
This was the Ice God's authority, the supreme cold law of the Far North. It now lay quietly settled in the depths of the Godhead, forming the foundation beneath this warmth.
Beneath the chill was sharpness.
That power was like a divine sword drawn from its sheath, decisive in slaughter and utterly exposed in its edge.
With every probe of his senses, it felt as though countless blades swept across the depths of his soul, carrying an indomitable resolve and tyranny.
This was a part of the Asura God: the laws of slaughter condensed from Divine Slaughter's Domain, perfectly analyzed and contained by the Godhead.
At the deepest level, and also the most chaotic place, was a restless undercurrent.
Unlike the sharp slaughtering intent, it was twisted, frenzied, and utterly without order.
That power was like a collection of countless negative emotions—resentment, jealousy, despair, madness... They were entangled together, forming an eerie and dangerous fluctuation of energy.
This was the Rakshasa God's power, and it occupied the smallest portion here.
The Ice