Splash!
The next instant, the Asura's eyes went round. The figure who had captured him stood upon the River of Time, surging from the past toward the future. Tributaries branched like the limbs of a tree, carrying him across the Yellow Springs.
He can actually cross the Yellow Springs! Even Legendary Powerful Experts can barely manage that. When did such a terrifying expert appear in the Nine Netherworlds? Shock filled his heart, followed by a wave of lingering fear. He hurriedly flew back to report to the Ancestor.
A short while later, a range of deep-red peaks came into view. They seemed to be steeped in fresh blood every hour of every day. Heads with eyes still open in death, broken bodies, and severed limbs lay everywhere.
This was the Holy Mountain of the Asura Race, what experts in the Real Realm often described as an "Asura Battlefield."
After delivering his report, the Asura was taken straight to a dark hall that never saw daylight. Before him, white bones were piled together and draped in skins stripped from demons, monsters, and humans alike, forming a Throne of slaughter and battle.
"You saw a being from the outside world, at least a Legendary Powerful Expert, yet capable of crossing the Yellow Springs..."
Black mist twisted upon the Throne, without any definite form. Its occupant stroked the various eyeballs embedded in the armrests, his voice like a dull blade churning and cutting through the hearts of everyone who heard it.
The Asura prostrated himself below and recounted everything he had seen and learned. Yet a sudden doubt arose in his heart. That Powerful Expert had not casually disposed of him. Had he deliberately let him return to report to the Ancestor?
Could his purpose in crossing the Yellow Springs have something to