Wang Chen knew Mu Huyan wasn't happy with his decisions, but there was nothing he could do about it. For him, coming to the upper realm was no longer a matter of choice—it had become something he had to do, an inevitable step carved into the path ahead.
Lost in those thoughts, he paid no attention to the immortal cultivators around him. Their auras, their glances, the weight of status and might—all of it faded into the background. The only thing he focused on was finding the faint, elusive aura of the Doom Clock.
For a moment, the entire world vanished from Wang Chen's perception. The golden clouds, the towering pillars of power, the distant hum of the sects—all dissolved into darkness, as if someone had drawn a curtain over reality. The world turned dark as night, the silence pressing in on all sides. Remaining unfazed, Wang Chen pushed forward, his senses sharpening like a blade being drawn from its sheath.
Time continued to pass.
