While the world below scrambled for survival, Fang Yuan stood at the edge of the Void Abyss, a place where the stars were nothing but distant, flickering embers. He was stripped to the waist, his lean, muscular frame scarred by battles across a hundred dimensions. He didn't need a sword; his body was the ultimate vessel of refined Qi.
He began the "Sequence of the Shattered World." It wasn't a fast movement. It was slow, agonizingly precise. Each strike he threw didn't just move the air—it created a vacuum that dragged the surrounding reality into it. As he moved, the space around him began to crack like a mirror. He was practicing the "Nine Strokes of Non-Existence," a technique he had stolen from a dying universe eons ago.
"The boy thinks he found a 'Smallest Point'," Fang Yuan whispered to the silence.
He thrust his palm forward. There was no sound, but a nearby floating mountain of obsidian—miles wide—simply vanished. It wasn't crushed; it was erased from existence.
Fang Yuan's eyes glowed with a cold, predatory intelligence. He wasn't just maintaining his power; he was honing his "Void-Sovereign Body" to be even more resilient. He felt the vibration of Lu Chen's new blade, and in response, he began to rotate his internal energy at a frequency that nullified spatial friction.
He was like a sculptor, but instead of clay, he was molding his own soul into a shape that could withstand a strike from "The End of Time." To Fang Yuan, training was a holy ritual of ego—a declaration that in all of existence, he was the only constant.
"Let them unite," he said, a faint, cold sweat glistening on his brow as he reached the final form of his sequence. "Let them build their needles. A needle can kill a man, but it cannot kill the Void."