Beyond the twin moons of the Azure Cloud Realm lay the great cosmic graveyard.
For hundreds of millions of years, the Void Broodmother and her insatiable swarm had carved an expansive scar of silence across the local side of the universe. In their wake, over three hundred solar systems had been systematically murdered. The living planets had been stripped down to bare, radioactive dark rock. The outer gaseous giants had been siphoned into negative matter. And the central stars—the proud, blazing suns that had once warmed countless worlds—had been drained of their nuclear life-force.
What remained of those suns were cold, hardened cinders. Blackened iron husks and dead white dwarfs drifting in total pitch-black darkness. Around these dead stars, the leftovers of shattered world-size great realms clung to life in frozen underground bunkers, burning their final reserves of spirit stones and watching their children shiver in unending, sub-zero twilight.
To those forgotten survivors, the concept of a sunrise had become an ancient myth recorded in faded scrolls.
That endless night ended today.
Riding the boundless spreading of Lin Xiao’s Primordial Dantian, the outer blast wave of the Primordial Genesis Rain surged past the edge of the Azure Cloud Realm’s heliosphere. It didn’t travel as a destructive physical blast. It rippled across the gravity currents of the void like a warm, golden-azure tide of unbound creative intent.
