Qian Daoliu stood among the crowd, watching the golden sword light shatter the divine punishment, the sky reappear, and the vortex overhead crumble like a torn drumskin. He suddenly felt as though someone had gently turned the page on his entire life.
He had lived for more than two hundred years. For the Angel God's Divine Position, he had spent a lifetime making offerings and enduring Divine Tests. Even his son had been dragged into it.
When it came down to it, Qian Xunji had done those vile things so the Angel lineage could produce another god.
Yet two generations of obsession and madness amounted to less than the boy Rongrong had picked up outside Shrek Academy.
Fang Fan had merely raised a hand, and Xue'er had become the Angel God King.
That casual gesture outweighed ten thousand years of the Qian family's efforts.
He gazed at Fang Fan's back. His expression shifted again and again before he finally let out a long breath and said nothing.
All his life, he had believed in gods, in Angels, in family honor. Only now, in old age, did he understand that none of them mattered as much as following the right person.
But the sky gave him little time to dwell on it.
The dark clouds dispersed, yet the sky did not brighten.
After the vortex overhead broke apart, what appeared behind it was not the night sky, but a sheet of dark red.
It was as though someone had laid a vast slab of red-hot iron over Spirit City. From the edges toward the center, it grew redder and brighter. Fang Fan glanced up, his brow twitching slightly.
The Space Rift Qian Renxue had cut was closing, but it stopped halfway, like a pair of lips held apart at the center.