Days turned into weeks and months unnoticed. Soon, fall arrived.
The day-to-day life was so peaceful that it felt unnatural. Even the battles between alien demons and cultivators above the sky seemed to be less frequent.
As if in times of peace, like a dying bird's final burst of song.
The sky remained blue, and the sun still radiated warmth, yet an unseen chill of death permeated the atmosphere.
The end was nigh.
Wei Cheng didn't know if anyone else on Earth felt the same, but it seemed irrelevant now.
Everything that could be done had been done, all that was left was to face the darkest hour. Whether they could struggle through it or not, no one knew.
However, he was certain that recently, the reincarnates communicating with the Cultivation World had become significantly more frequent—it seemed they had made considerable progress.
