To make Zhou Yanjun, who cared about nothing, reveal such an expression—
it was clear just how devastating that matter had been to him.
Xu Zimo could understand it as well.
After all, even he had cultivated at a pace far ahead of those his age.
Yet how long had it taken him to reach his current realm?
Millions of years, or tens of millions?
From the Yuanyang Continent until now, he no longer knew how much time had passed.
Xu Zimo had never deliberately counted it.
Even setting time aside, there was the effort he had poured into this journey, as well as the dangers he had encountered.
He had walked through life and death more times than he could count.
The difficulty of all that was self-evident.
Under such circumstances, if there were a cultivation technique that could rapidly forge someone in a single week—
allowing them to complete in one week the road others needed a lifetime to walk—
who could possibly remain unmoved?
He feared that no one in this world would refuse it.
Looking at Zhou Yanjun, Xu Zimo asked, "What happened afterward? What happened later?"
"Later..."
Zhou Yanjun fell silent for a moment.
Then he said, "At first, this Future Art only circulated among some of us at the upper levels."
"Then one day, for some unknown reason, this Dao art began to spread among countless people."
"People throughout the entire Old Universe began cultivating it madly."
Hearing this, Xu Zimo immediately knew something was wrong.
First of all, such a cultivation technique was absurd.
It defied every rule, allowing people to reap without sowing and effortlessly stand at the peak.
Secondly, with such a terrifying cultivation technique, the Major Powers should have guarded it tightly to consolidate their status as rulers. Unless someone