Another three thousand years passed.
"Have we reached the limit of our growth?"
A faint sigh came from within the long and empty Palace, and a hoarse voice said, " "Three thousand years, a whole three thousand years. I've been doing nothing for three thousand years."
After all, in the later generations, a level 7 heavenly Emperor was the ultimate limit of flesh and blood, and all the potential of the body was excavated.
In a mature universe, level eight was a qualitative change. One would begin to ascend the dimension and become a high-dimensional creature. This required one to climb the path of high-dimensional space-time. This path was unprecedented and needed to be opened up.
For yimang,"growth" was not actually important.
They were the only ones in this chaotic primordial universe, so what was the point of having such powerful forces?
He just wanted to find something to do. He just wanted to have a living goal ...
