Silver fragments drifted through the void like a beautiful snowfall.
Amid that snow, seven figures slowly walked through the void.
Xie Changsheng, Zhou Yan, Song Chi, Murong Li, Black Mountain, Red Wind, and, at their very center... Luo Hongyi.
They did not walk quickly. They could even have been strolling through a quiet courtyard.
Yet with every step they took, faint ripples spread through this ravaged void.
It was something that utterly transcended Immortal Essence and demonic power.
Profound.
Weighty.
As though the paths they walked naturally became the rules of this world.
Most striking of all were the crowns of light floating above their heads, each radiating an inexplicable majesty.
A silver halo of flowing sand, a purple phantom of fate, a crimson spectral lotus of Great Dream...
Luo Hou narrowed his eyes.
He sensed no Immortal Essence, nor even the slightest trace of demonic power.
These seven people were utterly clean, like blank sheets of paper with nothing written on them.
Yet it was precisely that cleanness that stirred an inexplicably intense irritation in Luo Hou's heart, along with a trace of wariness.
The gravely wounded Feng Qing, Zhu Yao, Si Shuo, and Jiang Ling in the distance were equally bewildered.
Zhu Yao and Feng Qing exchanged a glance, each seeing the horror in the other's eyes.
Even with their knowledge and experience, neither could make any sense of the seven people's current state.
Si Shuo's brows were tightly furrowed. He had only just experienced the cultivation realm of an Immortal Emperor, and his perception of the laws of heaven and earth had not yet entirely faded.
But in his perception, the aura emanating from these seven people bore some resemblance to an Immortal Emperor's, yet was utterly different.
As though the power they wielded did not belong