Sunny floated above the stream of eternity.
Below him, the River of Time roared, a torrent of fragmented images and ghostly echoes.
"Here," Sunny whispered.
He dove.
His consciousness pierced the surface of the river, plunging him into the silent space of the Primordial Era.
The birth of the God of Cultivation.
Sunny found himself floating in an empty cosmic void. There were no stars here, only distant, faint smudges of light from other multiverses drifting in the deep dark. It was a canvas waiting for paint.
He waited.
Time here felt like it was stuck. But Sunny, with his Time Affinity, stood still in the current, fast forwarding the time, as he wanted to directly see the creation.
RIIIP.
Suddenly, reality tore open.
The fabric of space contorted and ripped, revealing the True Void behind the curtain of the shallow void.
