Fog was all he knew. He drifted in an abyss of fog so long with only the corpses of all the failures. He had the same perfect recall as any cultivator but the Great One began to doubt his memory until the pinpricks of light arrived.
It had been sudden but the barrier had lit up like a starry night sky. He had thought he was finally breaking down when the sensation of worlds reached him! He thought he could finally escape but before he could even move, the fog beat him to it.
He sighed at the meticulousness of his foe. How many times had they fought and he had won? He had lost count but the last one was a formidable bastard.
It was as if he planned to die and enact the greatest torment to date.
The truth was, the fallen emerald dragons were the fuel caging him in a way he could not fight. So long as those thrice damned former trophies remained, he was stuck!
