There was an eerie silence in the air, as if time had frozen into amber here.

Blore held his breath, turned his head, and watched the edge of the black shadow continue to wriggle and multiply, like a drop of ink slowly smudged into an indescribable shape on rice paper.

Those newly formed "organs" stretched out in the void, sometimes spreading out lightly like wings, and sometimes curling up into embryonic masses, their surfaces glowing with the ever-changing iridescence of mother-of-pearl.

Interestingly, he wasn't scared.

He felt no danger.

He even just glanced at it for a few seconds and then turned his head calmly.

At this moment, the scales of the dragon tree were fluttering in some ancient rhythm, and each scale reflected a different light - the bottom layer was deep purple like the dark night, gradually transitioning to emerald green and peacock blue upwards, and turned into almost transparent silver-white at the treetops.

The twisted branches drew graceful arcs in the void, and the new buds stretched at a speed visible to the naked eye. Each new leaf looked like a thin blade forged with moonlight, with the luster of liquid metal flowing around the edges.

In this surreal scene, there seems to be some mysterious resonance between the black shadow and Nagarjuna.

Every time the treetops trembled, ripples appeared on the edges of the black shadow; and every time the black shadow changed, the roots of the dragon tree would emit a clear sound like crystal wind chimes.

Blore felt himself standing at the junction of two worlds, witnessing a symbiosis beyond human comprehension—like light and shadow, order and chaos, delicately balanced in an eternal dance.

But his mental picture was not retracted.

Blore's spiritual vision is like rice paper soaked in moonlight, silently spreading in the void.

The ancient patterns on the Shifang coffin suddenly burst out with a faint blue light, and the coffin lid slowly opened with a silent roar.

In an instant, purple-gold lightning poured out like a waterfall, condensing into a dazzling galaxy in the sky.

From that galactic vortex, a mythical creature descended on lightning.

Every time it took a step, lotus-shaped lightning patterns bloomed in the void.

The original form of the Pixiu has transformed - its slender body is covered with flowing shadow scales, each piece reflecting starlight from different dimensions.

Its mane is like a burning nebula, dragging a galaxy-like trail across the void.

When it raised its head, a pair of crystal dragon horns pierced the space, and the tips of the horns condensed collapsed stars.

This otherworldly creature slowly circled in front of Blore, its massive body almost filling the entire underground space.

Its eyes were two rotating star wheels, reflecting the ever-changing shape of the dark shadow opposite.

With every breath, tiny stardust drifted from its nostrils, turning into crystal points of light when it touched the branches of the dragon tree.

The light spots fell on the scales of the dragon tree, making ethereal sounds like chimes.

In this surreal moment, three beings formed a perfect triangular balance - the black shadow represented the chaotic unknown, the dragon tree symbolized the eternal order, and the transformed Starry Sky Pixiu seemed to be a mediator between the two.

Blore felt that his consciousness was sublimating in the force field formed by the three, as if it was about to melt into this aesthetic field beyond language.

Blore remained silent, but the shadow seemed to be losing its patience.

"I finally remembered..."

A male voice sounded.

Blore's pupils contracted slightly, and his fingertips unconsciously dug into his palms.

The moment of astonishment was suppressed in his throat, turning into an almost inaudible gasp.

He thought he would see Si's strange pale face, or Wu Changqing's iconic face - but he never expected it to be this person who appeared in that abandoned ancient ruins and whom he had only met a few times.

The light of the dragon tree cast tiny shadows in his eyes. Blore remained standing, not even noticing that his knuckles were turning white.

He felt a cold sensation crawling up his spine, not fear, but a more complex, almost cognitively subversive tremor.

The scales of the Pixiu exploded silently behind him, then slowly calmed down, as if some instinct was warning him to stay alert.

"I see."

He heard his own voice was unusually calm, as if another soul was speaking through his lips and tongue.

Those questions that should have come out of my mouth, those shocks that should have been expressed, all sank into the deepest part of my mental picture.

Blore even noticed that his own drooping hair was emitting an abnormal silver-blue color in the dragon tree's halo - just like the rose flowers blooming among the scales of the dragon opposite.

"It's you." Blore didn't turn around.

He recognized it as Ji Changshu.

"Have you always been here?" Blore asked him.

In fact, the two of them didn't have much interaction in Nanbaichasong Town last time.

Everything seems to be a coincidence.

"I've been waiting."

Ji Changshu was silent for a while before he said this.

"You're awake too."

Blore stared at the swaying branches of the dragon tree. His voice was so soft, as if he was afraid to disturb the balance of the space: "So when the world of Nanbai Chasong Town collapsed last time...it was actually your mental picture that collapsed?"

Ji Changshu's figure swayed slightly in the shadows, and those twisted shadow tentacles gradually retracted, revealing his slender outline.

"The collapse buried more than just my consciousness,"

His voice carried a certain inhuman, ethereal resonance. "It is humanity's last remaining fantasy of the gods."

The branches of the dragon tree suddenly trembled violently, and countless light particles fell like teardrops.

Ji Changshu raised his hand, and a scaly light condensed into a translucent fragment of memory in his palm:

My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It will be even more exciting later!