The Purple Light Pillar pierced the dome of the Star-Locking Hall.
Rubble was still falling, and the star-origin storm swirled within the altar. After being scattered, the Demon Emperor's black fog was gathering again, but much more slowly. His black-hole eyes fixed on the purple light descending from above, and for the first time, he let out a roar that sounded nothing like a human voice.
"The Purple Cauldron... impossible..."
At the pillar's center, space began to warp. It was not the violence of being torn apart, but the smoothness of a precise cut. A gateway took shape within the purple light, its frame flowing with ancient totems of interwoven stars and cauldron patterns.
White Snow's breath stopped.
She forgot the Demon Emperor was only a hundred feet away. Forgot Qing Feng was still bound to a stone pillar, her fate unknown. Forgot she was now in her sky-blotting star phoenix true form. She stared only at that gateway, purple radiance dancing in her platinum slit pupils.
A figure stepped out of the gateway.
His blue cloth shirt had been washed pale, and the fist-sized Purple Small Cauldron hung at his waist. His palms were thickly callused, his knuckles large-the marks of his origins as a cowherd boy. His face was pale as paper, his aura weak and unsteady, and he swayed with every step.
The cost of traveling between worlds had drained almost all his spell power.
But he had come.
Ye Han raised his head. His gaze passed through the flying rubble and swirling black fog to settle directly on the golden giant bird. His lips moved.
"White Snow."
The instant those two words left his mouth, all White Snow's majesty, all her solemnity, all the sacred aura accumulated over countless ages came crashing down.
"Master!"
Her voice