Zhao Yi's hand was enveloped by the Power of Time, and then slowly attracted to the River of Time ahead.
It was a feeling of common roots and origins; his Power of Time had been comprehended through the River of Time.
Looking at this River of Time, Zhao Yi felt a sense of unreality.
Because just as he was about to begin taming it, various images suddenly appeared above.
The River of Time before him, though static in position, had its waters constantly flowing within.
The surface of the water glinted faintly, like countless twinkling diamonds leaping on the riverbed.
Suddenly, scenes appeared above, depicting a rootless, sourceless river appearing in the mountains, flanked by lush trees that bloom in sunlight, turning the leaves at their branches a pale yellow. Occasionally, a few swallows danced on the branches, as if bringing the river notes of life.
The River of Time lingered there that day, spring passing to the east, year after year.
