The private world was small: roughly five hundred miles across. Serene greenery stretched outward in all directions, centered around a quiet lake. Above it hung a deep, swirling sky of black and gold, devoid of stars, yet blindingly bright, like staring into the core of a dying star.
A dream come true for flat-earthers. Fully offensive.
Just to the left of the lake stood a small, ancient pagoda forged from black iron. Time had worn its surface smooth, yet the structure remained unyielding, glowing bright.
Inside,
Tianmo's divine soul, at the size of 1 foot, sat cross-legged at the center of the room. His Divine Soul hovered before him, pulsing with a faint, ghostly glow. Behind him, his true body lay motionless on the cold stone floor, just a husk of flesh and blood, perfectly intact, yet utterly inert.
To possess a body, two conditions had to be met: vitality and a stable foundation.
