The mist swirled like a giant pillar, shooting straight up into the sky.
At this moment, with the Paradisiacal Transformation unfolding once again, countless souls infected by the dreamlessness disease departed from their shells. The Spiritual Bodies, akin to corpses, floated along with the wave, entangled by tree roots that drained them completely dry, leaving only residual desires that couldn't escape, transforming into moths rising and falling.
Innumerable souls fell into this dream overnight, affecting not only the Thousand Islands but also the Central Earth, the Empire, and even the Federation.
Such a grand display could not escape other eyes, even in the remote seas.
"You've been watching for so long, why not speak, 'Locksmith'?"
Wen Zheng suddenly asked without turning his head: "Since you're here, why not come out for a meeting? It's rare for us to be so peaceful."
"It's indeed a rare spectacle, Guide."
