Sound was a marvelous vessel.
In ordinary days, people could use it to sing, laugh, and recite love poems; they could also use it to weep, roar, and vent their troubles; they could even fashion it into a weapon for scouting, communication, and killing.
And on extraordinary days, sound could be Melpomene's Sigh, Iris's whisper, or a powerful force surging from a horn and shattering the constraints of dimensions.
After the bull-headed creature puffed out its cheeks and blew that horn with all its strength, the entire Sandbox World fell into an irreversible state of collapse. Like the last straw that broke the camel's back, the sound pouring from the horn not only smashed this fragile world to pieces, but also seemed to break some kind of shackle.
Like a mirror after a hammer had struck its surface.
The space before Zheng Qing silently burst with crisscrossing, web-like cracks. In an instant—while the astonishment on Su Shijun's face in the distance still seemed frozen there—fragments of space came clattering down from those fissures, turning into clusters of speckled light before fading away.
Beyond the fragments of space lay a pitch-black "cave" devoid of any information.
It was called a "cave" because, aside from the roughly two-meter-wide stretch of space before Zheng Qing that had been completely shattered, the rest of the sandbox still barely existed. To use an inappropriate analogy, the Sandbox World now resembled a dense spiderweb, while a small patch of the web before Zheng Qing had been torn away by an invisible hand, leaving behind an empty gap.
It was not that Su Shijun did not want to stop that savage bull from continuing to blow its horn.
It was simply that the spiderweb-like cracks in space severely restricted her every movement. Everyone in the Sandbox World,