He had no body. No limbs. No sensation of bones or flesh.
There was only a transparent, desperately faint wisp of Divine Sense, like an ember left after the wind had snuffed out a flame, floating in an endless void.
Was I dead?
The thought rose and fell away. No. If I were dead, I shouldn't still be able to think. If I were dead, there shouldn't still be an "I."
He remembered the process clearly: sacrificing six Great Daos, burning through his last spark of life, turning everything into a barrier for Blue Star.
The moment his Magic Power ran dry, the moment his Dao Foundation shattered, his consciousness should have dissipated along with them.
But he had not dissipated.
His Divine Sense remained. Thin as paper, too weak to withstand even the slightest breeze. But it was still there.
Chen Hao tried to make himself "move." With no limbs to control, he could only shift his Divine Sense in one direction.
Like a drop of ink falling into still water, slowly spreading, drifting.
There was nothing around him. A void in the truest sense, not darkness. Darkness was at least a color. Here, even color did not exist.
How long had his Divine Sense drifted through this nothingness? He did not know. Time had lost its measure here.
It might have been an instant, or many years might already have passed.
Then he heard it.
Thump.
One beat. Impossibly distant. Deep and heavy. It came from somewhere in the void, crossed this space without a medium, and reached his Divine Sense.
Thump.
Another beat. The interval was steady. Neither fast nor slow. As though something were pulsating.
Thump. Thump.
The sound continued, steady, beat after beat.
The entire void trembled faintly with that rhythm. It was not the