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In the Nine Hells, a desolate wilderness sprawled, where butterflies of gold, silver, and black swarmed denser by the moment, entrapping the Immortal Asylum in a dazzling prison of light. The Nian had fallen silent, his roars ceasing as the land morphed into a landscape of eerie peculiarities.
On the dimly lit pathways, a mass of snakes and insects writhed and crawled like waves upon the sea, their movements rustling with ghostly whispers.
"Father, uncles. Tian Ding requests an audience," suddenly, the voice of the Sky Source Son cut through the silence outside the Immortal Asylum.
This gaunt old man, hunched and withered, hovered outside the butterfly formation. He waited, and soon beneath the formation, a black face materialized, formed of dense sword energies. When it spoke, it was as if a sea of swords trembled with its words.
"What is it?" the black face inquired.
"Uncle, please look." The Sky Source Son placed a Projection Orb into the butterfly for...
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