In every single one of the countless memory worlds of Grand Emperor Netherflame, it was raining. And it fell on all the people who had entered those worlds. That included both Lin Kun and the western Devilbird cultivators. No one could evade it.

With the passage of time, the rain fell harder. All of the worlds became filled with a torrential downpour. Within the sheets of rain, it was possible to see a dim world of death and burial mounds. Eventually, that world overtook everything. It was like a devouring. All of the memory worlds… became burial mounds!

***

Xu Qing opened his eyes and wondered where he was. He was lying down, and everything was pitch black. It felt humid. He couldn’t use his cultivation base to cast his senses out. All he could do was grope around and use his sense of touch to try to identify his surroundings.

All he felt around him was cold wood. Around him. Beneath him. It was all the same. He was in a very narrow but somewhat long space, so confined that he couldn’t sit up.