Somewhere in the cosmos, a small group cut through the void, gliding through the infinite darkness that stretched between the stars.
"Master… are you sure he is the destined one?" one of Shuoming's subordinates asked, channeling his Qi to carry the sound waves through the vacuum.
"Yes." Shuoming nodded, his voice tinged with pain, but also with a trace of long-dormant hope.
He had been rescued by the Primordial Demon Empress back when she was still a child.
Yes, when she was a child, no more than five or seven years old.
He still remembered that tiny, adorable little thing—seemingly small enough to fit in the palm of his hand—tearing a true god apart as if he were nothing.
That was a very, very long time ago…
A time when the celestial heavens were still in their infancy, when the land of the true gods was slowly beginning to blossom with life, and when the first Primordials were awakening from their long slumber.
