Silence filled the room. Only the echo of a clock swinging back and forth could be heard.

Under Minerva’s gaze, Zhou Cheng quickly became drenched in sweat. He tried several times to open his mouth, but no words came out. No matter how hard he tried to mobilize his spirit matter or steady his mind, what he felt instead was layer upon layer of increasingly clear and overwhelming fear.

It wasn’t just because of Minerva. It was as if something even more violent, more feral, was lurking behind that shifting phantom, casting a contemptuous glance in his direction.

What White Deer followers hated most about Origin followers was this: Origin was like a lock. Everyone within it had their own position and chain. The meaning of an individual was endlessly diluted by the collective, and no one could exist beyond their assigned stance.

Chains and authority came from the same source, while order and restraint coexisted. Even those who were not followers of Origin, once inside it, would be subtly assimilated and turned into standardized beings without faces or individuality.

But now, the moment Wen Wen set those chains aside, or more precisely, when she acted as if she could rip those damn chains apart, what Zhou Cheng felt was the iron-like nature of the Ruins Path, the majesty and terror of something utterly merciless.

Even though they were both Chosen Ones, the gap between them could not be measured in the slightest. It was as insurmountable as the gap between...