Holding the Line?

Number 269, front line.

In the boundless void, a shattered Starry River ran across the expanse, over a million light-years wide, like an enormous scar left behind after being torn open and repeatedly healed.

The "scar" curved as a whole. Inward lay the still-expanding Constellation 269; outward lay a cold, blood-colored Starry Sky—the Netherworld Territory.

Within the "scar," space resembled a scroll that had been crumpled and forcibly spread flat again, covered in countless enormous, irregular fractures.

The stars were gone.

As far as the eye could see, wreckage covered everything!

Once-massive Celestial Bodies had been thoroughly torn apart, squeezed, and ground to pieces, becoming vast, boundless seas of slowly drifting debris.

[Wan He Legion], [Abyssal Prison Legion], [Red Net Legion], [Withered Star Legion]...

Figures from the Nine Great Legions moved through the debris, patrolling the Starry River...

Above the Starry River, an old man sat cross-legged in the void, his back toward Constellation 269 as he stared into the blood-colored Starry Sky ahead.

Space suddenly tore open, and a Sturdy Middle-Aged Man hurriedly crashed out of the rift, cupping his hands in salute.

"Greetings, Venerable!"

"So rash." Zhihui lightly shook his head and asked with a faint smile,

"How are things? In the blink of an eye, that little fellow hasn't stirred up some new mischief again, has he?"

"Mischief? Not quite. Under Li Qingshan's management, the Formless Barrier is fairly well ordered."

Ye Tai answered first, but hesitation soon surfaced on his face.

"Only, just now, another Eighth-Order Rift appeared within the barrier..."

"What?!" Zhihui's eyes widened, and his old face swiftly flushed red.

"Why didn't you report something this important sooner?!"

After casually scolding him, he anxiously turned to look toward Constellation 269, his gaze crossing the endless Starry Sky in an instant...

Beside him, Ye Tai