Tang Wulin nodded firmly.
His eyes were red.
As for the truth behind the Golden Dragon King's origin power...
He would learn it someday, sooner or later.
The Abyss Plane.
In that void forever shrouded in dark red light, the Abyssal Sage King sat upon his throne, piled high with countless bones.
His figure resembled a dark mountain compressed to its utmost limit, surrounded by darkness so dense it was almost tangible, like a liquid abyss.
His eyes were closed, and his fingertips tapped lightly against the throne's armrest. The rhythm was slow and heavy, like the beating of an enormous heart.
He had received no messages from the Holy Spirit Cult for three months.
Communication with the Ghost Emperor had ceased, and the Demon Empress's aura had vanished entirely from the Douluo Plane.
The Abyssal Sage King opened his eyes.
"No more waiting."
He spoke, his voice echoing through the empty, dark void.
"If we wait any longer, something disastrous may happen over on the Douluo Plane."
He rose to his feet.
As his immense, heavy body rose from the throne, the entire dark void shuddered.
He extended his right hand, an enormous, twisted claw covered in dark red scales. A mass of darkness condensed in his palm, its light dense beyond measure.
He pressed that mass of light toward a certain point in the void, where an invisible barrier stood, woven from countless runes and laws.
When the dark light touched it, the barrier hissed as though seared by red-hot iron.
The runes began to fracture, peel away, and crumble. Like glass struck by a stone, countless fine cracks spread outward from the center.
The Abyssal Sage King withdrew his hand. The cracks in the barrier had spread to their limit. The remaining runes still flickered in