Lin Mo looked up.
On the throne at the far end of the divine palace sat a man.
His presence made the stars throughout the palace seem dim.
His hair was white as snow, and a river of time flowed through its strands, each one reflecting scenes from different eras and worlds.
His eyes were as deep as abysses. His left eye held the first sparks at the birth of chaos; his right, the void at the end of the universe.
His fingers were like jade, the surface of his bones inscribed with the characters of three thousand worlds. The slightest movement set the laws of countless realms in motion.
He made no effort to exert his authority, yet Lin Mo still felt his soul tremble, as if he were an ant gazing up at the heavens, instinctively wanting to kneel.
He saw the man tap a fingertip, and shattered stars gather back together as before.
He saw him stroll through the river of time, casually plucking the strings of fate.
He saw his lonely, eternal figure, as if he had long since witnessed the rise and fall of every world.
He wanted... to follow him.
Not for power, nor for immortality.
But because...
In his eyes lay a loneliness deeper than the sea of stars.
Later, through ten days and nine lands, across three thousand cycles of reincarnation, Lin Mo gradually saw him become more human, capable of joy and sorrow, anger and delight, vivid and alive. And so Lin Mo's own heart began to waver…
