In a space vortex that was full of a storm where the god leveled cultivators would shriek in fear, a man flew through like it was nothing. The chains that held his hands was no more as his gray hair fluttered from the aura he exuded alone.
His clothing had already burned up from the sheer force of the environment he was currently in. Not just any fabric could withstand the power of nature.
He suddenly furrowed his eyebrows before he slapped the nearby space and ripped out a crack in an instant. On the other side of the hole was vast greenery with no living figure to be seen inside. Casually, he walked inside the said scenery.
The wind past through his hair as he stood in front of the space crack. Nature immediately started recuperating and fixing the damage he caused albeit slowly like pieces of glass patched together.
"This place is," muttered the man as a fabric of memory played in his mind.
