When Ye Qingzhou arrived at the battlefield, everything had already returned to calmness.
Within the borders of India, the ground was cracked, and the mountains and rivers had collapsed. Strangely, however, there were no corpses, no bloodstains, not even the aftermath of the battle remained, as if an earth-shattering Divine War had never occurred here.
His brow slightly furrowed, and he gently brushed the air with his fingertips, a wisp of Sword Intent emanated, causing subtle ripples in the air.
"Something's not right."
He murmured to himself, his gaze sweeping around.
Has a part of the River of Time here been forcibly cut away by someone?
Who did it?
At this moment, a cool voice sounded behind him:
"It was you, Ye Qingzhou."
Ye Qingzhou suddenly turned around, seeing a silver-eyed youth standing atop the ruins, surrounded by the faint Power of Time.
Garna.
No, more precisely, Garna possessed by the Brahma Emperor.
Ye Qingzhou's gaze sharpened: "Me?"
