The sun rises and the moon sets, stars shift in the sky, seventy-six years pass in a flash.
The night is deep, the firmament is like a black velvet curtain, adorned with countless stars.
At this moment, two figures suddenly appear over the Divine Continent, one high and one low, standing shoulder to shoulder, seemingly very familiar with each other.
Zhao Sheng looks up at the starry sky, watching as the stars gradually align, remaining silent for a long time.
Before long, Zhao Xuanjing suddenly speaks in a serious tone: "Chonghe, I have made up my mind!"
Upon hearing this, Zhao Sheng's expression changes slightly, and he immediately turns his head to look at the ancestor, seeing his gaze equally resolute.
"…It's just twelve stars in a row. With our combined strength, we can easily handle it. The chaotic primordial position is too high, it's nearly impossible to refine it into an external avatar. Why risk nine deaths and one life, ancestor!"
