The Northern Travel Record World.
Accompanied by the familiar feeling of the heavens spinning and the earth shifting.
Song Lin opened his eyes. No peculiar scene unfolded before him.
An ordinary world.
The vegetation was lush, a small stream meandered, the scorching sun shone brightly, and a spring breeze brushed by, cooling the body with refreshing clarity.
A squirrel leapt onto Song Lin's shoulder, unafraid of humans. Its pair of jet-black eyes met his gaze before it darted back up a tree.
This was probably a Small Thousand World.
Heavenly Immortal level was enough to access a complete Medium Thousand World, yet Song Lin had never seen one in its entirety—only fragments from Mao Zhong's terse descriptions.
At this thought, Song Lin's Divine Thought stirred, condensing into a sharp sword.
Crack!
As he attempted to slice through space, he found it impregnable.
"Hm? What's going on?"
