The sight of the true World Core was enough to wither the spirit of an immortal emperor.
Twelve thousand miles beneath the mortal crust, the inside of the planet didn’t look like a calm core of iron and stone. It was a churning, giant stone crucible of liquid fire, suspended within a gravity void forty thousand miles in outer rim.
And slicing directly across that world-size heart was a one-thousand-mile jagged fracture.
The crack tore through the earth-shaking mantle like a total compound bone fracture. From its depths, a freezing, rotting violet soft glow seeped upward, carrying the smell of total zero, dead stars, and the ancient rot of the Nether-Void.
Every three seconds, the two sides of the land-wide shelf ground against each other with an ear-splitting, metal screech that sent blast waves rippling up to the surface.
If this main fracture snapped fully, the southern half of the Jiuzhou Continent would lose its underground footing and slide directly into the mantle within forty-eight hours.
“The World-Anchor is cut,” Princess Jiang Ling’er whispered. Her brass safety goggles reflected the eerie violet glow of the deep pit. “The ancient texts of the royal library spoke of this. In the First Epoch, when the Demon Monarch was sealed, the divine ancestors sacrificed nine million Saint-tier warriors just to weld the outer edge.”
