Xu Qing stood there in the array formation formed by the star ring grass.
He now possessed all conditions necessary for teleportation. The star ring grass bestowed by the Venerable Immortal was clutched in his hand, while the aura of the golden rat swirled around him.
A single thought would activate the teleportation.
In this state, he raised his head, gazing intently at the crimson-hued sky.
He awaited an answer.
Soon, a voice tinged with antiquity—and a faint undercurrent of bewilderment—resounded through the small world:
"I… do not know."
"Long ago, I perished once. When I returned, my memories held both the remnants of a deity's existence and fragmented recollections of a cultivator's life."
"These dual memories intertwined, plunging me into ceaseless disorientation."
"Amid this turmoil, a voice occasionally echoed through the clashing memories within my consciousness."
