"Talk about your system."
Ning Zheng sat on his throne in the Imperial City, frowning more as he looked, "Every cycle on your body has a kind of rough, haphazard beauty."
"Indeed, we are haphazardly put together!"
"We are all like growing seedlings by pulling, so we are many in number, and cultivate quickly, but our foundation is unstable, just the kind of wastrels who have realms but no substance."
The Gale Emperor truly lived up to being an emperor of a generation, able to bend and stretch.
It could also be said that they lacked the Essence, Qi, and Spirit that a powerhouse should have, like a swarm of lively but insignificant fish.
After all, the realm and abilities copied were a fast path to cultivation.
But merely a shortcut.
As the Gale Emperor recounted, Ning Zheng gradually understood this distant period of history.
The chaos began with the falling of a treasure from the heavens.
