The edge of the Primordial Dais was four feet away.
Below that brass cliff edge spun the wipe-out whirlpool. A roaring, mile-wide vortex of white ancient solvent where four billion freed souls were dissolving their karmic debts before entering the Six Paths.
Falling into that vortex was not a physical death. It was the total wipe-out of one’s identity, mind, and soul.
Qin Guang’s iron talons were locked into Lin Ke’s lead-lined collar with the grip of a high-pressure vise.
The Ghost Sovereign’s Nether-Obsidian Core was undergoing a violent, end-post meltdown. The black stone inside his chest was glowing a blinding, sickly violet, heating to two thousand degrees as thousands of dangling pointer errors tore through his spiritual stonework.
Qin Guang was dragging Lin Ke backward with thirty tons of dying leverage.
“Die with my empire, mortal insect!” Qin Guang screamed, his black glass face cracking into a spider-web of glowing purple fissures. “When my core detonates, our atoms will dissolve into the same mud!”
Lin Ke didn’t pull back.
