Lear left the Broken Star Plane and once again stepped into the Mire Swamp, immediately sensing a difference.
His spiritual power was now flowing exceptionally smoothly in the swamp, the slight sluggishness from before now vanished without a trace.
It was as if some kind of restraint had been lifted, allowing him to be completely in tune with the swamp.
His gaze turned to the distance, and at this moment, even the breathing and movement of insects and ants at the edge of the swamp could not escape his perception.
With eyes slightly narrowed, he carefully sensed everything and began to understand some things.
Why are the divine spirits so powerful!
To manipulate everything, to control everything!
In a daze, shadowy images appeared in his mind, along with fragmented scenes quietly emerging.
Long, long ago, the swamp beneath his feet was nothing but arid, hard yellow earth.
Only a few drought-tolerant plants had taken root, but the swamp did not yet exist.
