Deep within the planet, it is not a scorching geological core but a bizarre space thoroughly devoured by chaos.
Here there is no up or down, no direction, no light or dark, no chronological order; even the flow of time is twisted into a blur of turbulence.
At the center of the chaotic space, murky mist roils like ink, with hints of eerie purple lightning darting through. In the depths of the fog, a colossal shadow beyond imagination floats—Lord of Water.
In the next instant, a pitch-black stream of light tears through the chaos, forcefully invading this forbidden land.
"This is..."
No sooner had Zhou Yang stepped in, than boundless fragments of whisper directly invaded his consciousness, not heard by the ear, but a permeation at the level of the Divine Soul.
Without syllable, without logic, only pure chaos, decay, and madness, like countless ancient deities whispering the ultimate disorder of the universe.
"Unnameable Chant!"
"Celestial Whisper!"
