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The ground beneath Wang Yu's feet was rising—not swiftly, but steadily—toward the vaulted ceiling of the capital's shadow. A collision seemed imminent. From where he stood at the very edge of this ascending landmass, Wang Yu gazed toward its center, where something extraordinary was unfolding.
He had decided, for now, to name the existence born from the abyssal will that the Mirror of the Stars had inverted as "the Perfected One." At this moment, it was striding toward a colossal figure partially embedded in the earth.
Most of that immense body lay buried beneath the ground. Only a head and a single arm jutted free—pristine, unmarred by rot or ruin, the flesh pale and flawless, exuding an awe-inspiring grandeur. By Wang Yu's rough estimation, that lone arm alone stretched over ten meters long.
"So this is the Corpse of the End… Is this what a deity's body truly looks like? I don't think I've ever seen a true deity's remains before."
Wang Yu frowned. The Lady of the Night and the God of Light lacked physical forms, and the Font of Life, Erphine, was a fragmented being at best. This immense, intact body before him was his first real encounter with the corpse of a god.
"Who managed to kill something like this—and leave the body so perfectly preserved?"
As Wang Yu pondered the situation, the Perfected...
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