This vast and boundless starry sky, brimming with endless mysteries, began its heart-stopping collapse.
Every moment was like a breathtaking painting of ultimate destruction, visually impacting all possible perceptions.
If one were to slow down the speed of its collapse, they would see—at the far, seemingly endless edge of this starry sky—a faint golden thread quietly emerge.
It was like a fine scratch inadvertently made on a dark canvas.
Seemingly insignificant, yet carrying an indescribable aura of danger.
It was the old Venerable God's concept.
And also the guide for Desolate's gaze.
In the blink of an eye, this golden thread multiplied, spreading at a frenzied pace like a voracious net, rapidly expanding in all directions.
Where they passed, the once-tranquil starry sky rippled like a lake struck by a boulder, warping in layers of distorted waves.
The ripples spread outward, carrying a bizarre reality-twisting effect that even bent the light of the stars.
