They all struggled in despair, with each civilization stepping forward to attempt to perfect the Cosmos, to ascend its dimensions.
Although selfish desires inevitably arose during the process.
But their overall direction was correct.
Like moths to a flame, raising the torch, laying the foundation for those who followed, accumulating heritage.
The other party continued to say:
"However, if your assault this time fails, for example, if you stop at the fourth trial, don't panic."
"When the next new civilization launches an assault and passes through the fourth trial, you can hitch a ride on their civilization and set out again, charging along with them!"
Fortuna on the side scoffed: "It's really a prison. At the Sixth Tier, it already feels like a prison, a spatial prison, a black hole prison... the three great trials of the Sixth Tier have trapped a large number of civilizations to death."
"I didn't expect this place to have the same scenario?"
