In the Cultivation Citadel, Noah's thoughts burned brightly.
The weight of existence pressed down on him like the gravity of a collapsing star. The crimson-gold flames continued their endless feast on his being.
But in the midst of all of this excruciating pain, his mind remained unbearably clear.
And currently a single thought was burning through the haze of agony. A single idea crystallizing with perfect clarity.
The idea and reality that THE Immolation Of The Sacrilegious Savage would have no answer, no counter, no solution... unless you possessed the distinction of THE.
And he knew someone with the distinction of THE!
THE Dead Order!
He closed his eyes with agonizing slowness. In the next moment, he focused his weavings of existence toward that unique space that held The Veil which divided him and Sigrid from THE Dead Order on the other side.
