More than 280 million. When Ye Buyu heard that number, her breath caught, and her whole body went cold, as though ice water had been poured over her.
So cold that her soul trembled.
More than 280 million planets had been destroyed. How many lives had vanished without a sound? It was an astronomical number she could neither imagine nor dare to imagine.
Wan Lan gazed at the corridor in the darkness, her eyes darkening.
Only a few dozen had corridors. In other words, only a few dozen civilizations had left records behind.
This was hardly good news.
Fresh footsteps crossed Chen Jiu's ancient darkness. Silent candle flames could not illuminate the picture frames steeped in darkness. Departed splendors watched the newcomers from beyond time, silently recounting journeys once magnificent and grand.
Beyond the dark corridor, doors inscribed with countless civilizations opened. A glimmer of light spilled out, illuminating the traces of darkness throughout the hall.
Six figures walked out of the darkness and into the faint light, stepping into the great hall.
The left side teemed with life. Green vines wound around stone pillars, and soft white flowers looked toward them with a child's innocent tenderness. Pale yellow butterflies even danced among them.
Life flourished freely, peaceful and gentle-a scene of thriving abundance.
On the other side, withered leaves lay on the ground. A broken corner had snapped off and lay mingled with the dust. Even the stone pillars were battered and incomplete, filled with an air of decay.
The two stood opposite each other, their starkly different scenes delivering an impact beyond words.
In the center of the hall, there was no luxurious seat, no raised platform symbolizing power, only a square stool sitting quietly in place, gazing at a wall covered in gold-filigree role plaques.
Among the