When the calamity fell, Chen Tianyi realized that the so-called ascension was just a complete scam.
The ninth level of thunder catastrophe split the sky, and the purple-black thunder was actually filled with star fragments, each one of which was enough to crush a continent. He stood in the void, with the broken Qingyun Sect's mountain gate at his feet, and the corpses of three thousand fellow disciples behind him.
"Why?" He looked up at the torn sky, his voice hoarse like a trapped animal.
No one answered.
There was just a light - no, that wasn't a light, that was a finger.
The fingers stretched out from the cracked sky were so huge that they obscured the sun, moon and stars, and their fingerprints were like mountains and ravines. A gentle tap of your fingertips hit his Dantian.
Nascent Soul's peak cultivation level shattered like paper.
Golden elixir, foundation building, Qi training... Layers of realms collapsed in front of that force. He could feel that the spiritual power he had cultivated for eight hundred years was being pulled away by some invisible force, like a whale sucking a cow's drink.
"After eight hundred years of cultivation, it's time to harvest."
