The night was like water, and the surface of the sea shimmered, exuding a chill.
Fang Wang stood by the shore, his gaze piercing through the sea to spy into the Underworld, with the scenes of the Netherworld reflected in his pupils.
The Underworld was darker than the Mortal Realm, with no sun shining, but the moon hung high, and lost souls wandered aimlessly on the land, all without a purpose.
Fang Wang watched for a long time, his eyes filled with desolation.
He saw no order, no rules, or perhaps the scope of his vision was too limited.
A night passed, and Fang Wang did not immediately begin his cultivation; instead, he strolled around Biyou Island. Having been cooped up in the Heavenly Palace for one thousand four hundred and twenty years, he needed to relax properly.
Even without cultivating, his rate of cultivation growth was faster than before.