The years have rolled on, swiftly thirty thousand!
Chongli Heaven, a maelstrom of violent void turbulence.
The astral winds are like blades, churning the void in unrest, making even the brilliance of sun, moon, and stars struggle to pierce this desolate stillness.
Suddenly, for a moment, the eternal turbulence of this void stilled abruptly, as if frozen by an invisible giant strength, even the fiercest astral winds lost their edge.
Only a thread of luminous white light, slowly seeped from the depths of an ancient cave mansion within the chaos.
The silhouette of Qin Ping'an stepped upon this thread of light, slowly walking out from the arched gate of the cave mansion, the hem of his robe perfectly still, as if treading on solid ground instead of the perilous, unpredictable void turbulence.
His garment fluttered gracefully, untouched by mortal dust!
"Indeed, in cultivation, there are no years."
"In a brief moment, tens of thousands of years flick by!"
