The universe was desolate and silent, the void boundless.
Even the birth and destruction of an entire galaxy was but a fleeting glimmer, gone in an instant amid the vast universe and endless passage of time.
Nations, planets, and living beings were all merely specks of dust in the starry sky.
In this seemingly eternal world, all human perceptions became muddled. Spring and autumn were indistinguishable, day and night impossible to tell apart.
Where the Taiyin Saint Mist drifted, Ye Fan sat motionless like a stubborn stone, like a statue. It was as though he had forgotten the passage of time, devoting himself wholeheartedly to cultivation, unaware of what year it was.
When Yin and Yang harmonized, one could reign supreme beneath heaven.
This was a hope, but also a curse. Since ancient times, countless people had rushed headlong down this path, hoping to attain the supreme Dao Fruit through it.
Yet no matter how gifted or monstrous one might be, in the end, one could only die in obscurity, unable to glimpse the Imperial Dao Fruit Position.
However, people of Shrouding the Heavens never gave up. When one generation fell, another would naturally continue forward along this road.
The temptation was simply too great.
Since ancient times, Dao Attainment had been harder than for mortals to ride the wind into the blue heavens. Talent, comprehension, willpower, fortune, and more were all indispensable. Every one of them had to be among the finest in the world.
Great Emperor Orthodoxies stood at the pinnacle of glory, and Ancient Emperor True Scriptures surpassed all else in the world. Yet apart from Emperor Wushi, none of the descendants or disciples of emperors had ever become Dao Attainers. No matter how profound the scriptures were, they were of no use.
The glory of their