Within the Purple Cloud Palace, the deathly silence was broken by Dao Ancestor Hongjun's heavy breathing.
He stared fixedly at Ming Xin, his eyes filled with lingering fear, fury, and a trace of incredulous scrutiny.
"How... how did you learn that name?"
Hongjun's voice trembled with barely suppressed alarm. "This Daoist and the Heavenly Dao expended immeasurable effort before barely managing to glean, from the fragmented memories of that Chaos Demon God,
a faint and vague hint about 'them.' We learned of their nature—'unthinkable, unspeakable'—yet we never even saw their true forms or names clearly, much less dared to contemplate them deeply!
How could you... a cultivator born in the later ages of the Primordial World, speak it so readily?!"
Ming Xin's mind was in turmoil as well. He had never imagined that the science-fiction mythological concepts from Earth in his previous life would have such a terrifying connection to this real Primordial World.
Unable to explain that his soul came from another world, he could only remain silent.
Seeing that Ming Xin said nothing, Hongjun did not press further. Perhaps he assumed Ming Xin had obtained some unimaginable inheritance from Chaos.
Wearily, he rubbed his brow. The barrier that isolated everything still firmly enshrouded the Purple Cloud Palace.
"No matter what... since you know that name and can even speak it aloud... you should understand its terror all the more!"
Dao Ancestor Hongjun's voice carried a deep sense of helplessness. "Merely mentioning it risks drawing its gaze! Had this Daoist not sealed this place off in time, the consequences would have been unimaginable!"
He looked at Ming Xin again, his eyes carrying a resolve that was almost pleading. "Do you understand now?
Fellow Daoist Ming Xin! Your existence, your cultivation... to the present Primordial World, is not a blessing,