At this moment, a whisper of movement caught Yun Lintian's attention.
An old man, his body withered to near-skeletal thinness, crawled from the ruins of a temple. His eyes, though clouded with age, burned with desperate clarity when they landed on Yun Lintian.
"You… you aren't from here." The old man's voice was a rasp.
Yun Lintian knelt beside him. "What happened here?"
The old man coughed blood. "The gods… they grew bored of peace. Said equilibrium was stagnation." His bony fingers clutched at Yun Lintian's sleeve. "They made a game of it—who could create the most beautiful despair."
Yun Lintian's golden-black eyes flashed.
A game.
Millions of worlds suffering because the Primordial Gods wanted entertainment.
The old man gasped his final words. "They call it… the Grand Desolation."
Then his body stilled.
Yun Lintian closed the man's eyes gently before standing.
The God Slaying Sword pulsed in his grip, its hunger mirroring his own.
