Atop the mountain summit, branches twinkled with a dim radiance.
Leaves swayed with the cold winds that swept over the peak, seemingly ready to fall off at any moment, yet no matter how fiercely the cold breeze slapped them, they remained firmly attached.
It appeared that without God's consent, not a single leaf would drop from the branches of this tree.
Chen Yi was still in the throes of prolonged decline.
Decline was not destruction.
Destruction meant absolute obliteration, an eternal departure, as if one had never existed.
The spirit of God settled upon every living being, thereby shaping the souls of countless creatures, which meant that God could never be destroyed.
Decline, however, was a relative stillness, an unconscious state, akin to a person closing their eyes at life's end, yet not passing away.
Thus, although Chen Yi was in decline, it didn't mean that He was completely unaware of changes in the outside world.
