The universe was vast and boundless, without end.
And the Solar System was like a lone city, besieged by countless interstellar civilizations!
Why were they treated this way?
Why was human civilization alone subjected to this?
Did the cold universe have no warmth for them alone?
No one could answer.
Jiang Yang and the others turned their gazes toward the black-robed figure who had guarded human civilization for untold years.
He stood alone in the Starsea, facing countless enemies by himself.
An air of loneliness and desolation swept like an autumn wind through the entire Starsea, stirring the hearts of countless humans.
Beside him, a supermassive interstellar warship as large as fifty Earths had been cleaved in two.
Countless human corpses lay fallen aboard the Starships.
This was a warship of the First Era's human civilization, yet it had been destroyed here along with its human warriors and pilots.
And that great black-robed figure stood in the central void between the two halves of the interstellar warship.
A black robe shrouded him, and pale strands of hair streamed from his hood,
Behind him.
Nine enormous halos radiated an indescribably wondrous rhythm. Though on the verge of shattering, they still blazed with splendor and light.
From those halos, Jiang Yang and the others sensed a familiar aura-the aura of the Myriad Worlds of the Heavens.
Everyone, Jiang Yang included, felt a blood connection to him, a recognition born of the most primal blood ties.
This recognition was like that between ancestors and their descendants, between a leader and his people!
"He is the First Supreme!"
They recognized the identity of this great black-robed Supreme almost immediately.
He was the phantom who had suddenly appeared within the Solar System during the World-Fall Calamity.
Back then, too, he had stood with his