And in that moment when the crystal mausoleum fragmented and turned to dust, a thin and small figure slowly rose from above the crystal dust...
Ethereal robes, seemingly illusory, pale long hair withered, a face lacking any hint of color, filled with sorrow and despair...
That small figure had the face of a ten-year-old child, yet, it faintly resembled Gu Changsheng's shadow...
Just at the time when the invisible shackles continuously battered the barrier of the Broken Cliff of Ten Thousand Fathoms, constantly sweeping toward Gu Changsheng below, that slender phantom stretched and extended, its figure gradually grew taller, the frail holy golden light on him continuously converged, although it was illusory and indistinct, finally it took shape...
Pure holy golden color, pure color that inspired reverence, a color that dared not be profaned but only worshipped...
"Father God... She's my child..."
