"Throne..."
Within the cold, silent Main Hall, ripples spread through the void. A young figure gradually emerged, both hands gripping a taut black-and-white thread.
The Thread of Destiny—the "throne" bestowed upon Wusheng by [Playwright]—was also his current line of thought for solving this problem.
But the question was...
How was he supposed to solve it?
He was not one of the Gods' Proxies, nor could he truly wield the power of the "throne."
"If the soft way won't work, then I can only do this the hard way!"
Great Suns rose one after another in Li Qingshan's eyes. Blazing radiance suddenly burst from his pupils and fell upon the black-and-white thread, while both hands continuously increased their pulling force.
Bzzzz—!
The taut thread suddenly trembled. A strange sensation—cold, slick, as though woven from the predetermined paths of countless living beings—pierced straight from his fingertips into the depths of his True Spirit!
Yet...
A sensation was merely a sensation!
He tried to devour and assimilate it as he would ordinary Corruption, but what came back was an even deeper coldness and an aloof, indifferent will.
That will did not belong to the fallen Wusheng. Instead, it resembled some Eternal, immutable law, stubbornly preserving its own form and properties.
No matter how the flames seared it, no matter how the power of the Starry River surged through his hands, the thread remained... utterly unmoved!
"Not working?"
Li Qingshan suppressed the flames back into his eyes, and his hands gradually loosened their grip. There was not much disappointment on his face.
As the true body of the "throne," the black-and-white thread's toughness was only natural.
Otherwise, it could not have endured that "tug-of-war" between him and Wusheng before.
This was not toughness on the physical level, but "existence" on the conceptual level—it was