The death of an epoch doesn’t arrive with a quiet whisper.
It comes with a world-size inward collapse that pulls the sky downward into the marrow of the earth.
Across the underground vault, the sundered halves of the Cosmic Core collapsed in upon themselves. He was dragged down by the inescapable gravity sink of Lu Chen’s Nine-Furnace Dantian.
The two-mile titan of stone-hard black glass bone and weeping void-matter crumbled into a spiraling vortex of ancient malice.
Millions of unpurged sins, ancient royal curses. The rotting rot of every specter that had ever haunted the Great Yong swirled through the underground chamber.
The darkness tried to scatter.
It fought to seep back into the earth-shaking fissures, seeking the frozen depths of the outer crust where it could hide and fester for another ten thousand years.
Lu Chen didn’t permit a single drop to escape.
