"Let's see how you reassemble this time!"
The disheveled old man had sharp eyes, his pupils shooting out a chilling light. He didn't believe that these mountains could regenerate endlessly.
Ahead, thick smoke curled, flames swirling.
Eventually, the fire died down, and everything inside reappeared—all the mountains still stood upright, silent as towering giants.
And not far from there.
Thicker fog surged, rolling in like a tidal wave. The surroundings roared as if a thousand armies were charging, too shocking to have their scenes glimpsed, even through divine sense, within the fog.
"How... how... how is this possible?"
The disheveled old man sucked in a cold breath. Everything before his eyes seemed unreal. His last hit was his strongest, using up all his energy, but he was still unable to break through here, chilling his heart.
The dragon-scaled sparrow screeched, feeling as if its life was about to be buried here.