Chen Yang tried desperately to say something, but no matter how fiercely his consciousness resisted, he could not break free from the invisible restraint pressing down on him.
He could only hear the source of that voice growing farther and farther away, until it vanished completely.
Today's encounter had filled his heart with even more questions and confusion—about the Divine Dao, about that Outer-Heaven Cataclysm, and about his own origins.
As his body continued to fall, Chen Yang's consciousness gradually sank into a hazy state.
He felt as though he had dreamed a very long dream.
In that dream, he experienced many lives that did not belong to him.
Of those lives, some died young, some lived until old age and death, and most embarked upon the path of cultivating the Dao. Yet truly achieving anything was as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns.
As those experiences accelerated through their transformations, they were no longer all human lives.
He became grass and trees, cattle and sheep, insects and fish. Then, amid a trembling rumble, he rolled down from an unnamed mountain peak and became a stone.
The progression of those lives ended there, and Chen Yang's consciousness slowly awoke amid repeated soft calls.
"Venerable God?"
"Venerable God, are you all right?"
At the summit of the Shattered Divine Palace, Fu Yin and the other two surrounded Chen Yang, calling out to him without cease.
Chen Yang felt that he had climbed the stairs for a very long time, yet to them, only around a quarter of an hour had passed.
Just moments ago, the Blood Sun youngling had been the first to sense that something was wrong. Its violent pounding drew the attention of the three, and they immediately rushed to the summit of the Divine Palace, where they