Chaos, outside the Purple Cloud Palace.
The void is the eternal background here, where the concept of time and space twists, folds, and even dissolves.
There is no up or down, no past or future, only endless chaotic energy surging, sometimes coalescing into indescribable monstrous shadows, sometimes exploding into myriad streams of fragmented energy, roaring like thunder, or wailing sharply like a lament.
Ordinary immortal gods, upon arriving here, would be assimilated in an instant, their divine souls dissolved, their dao bodies crumbling, becoming part of the chaos.
A goddess dressed in elegant palace attire, with a peerless face, stood quietly not far from the palace.
Meng Wuyou, somewhat entranced, was staring at the plaque, her eyes clear as autumn water, flashing a hint of indescribable peculiar expression.
"Purple Cloud Palace..." she murmured, her voice unusually clear within the chaos, yet carrying a touch of dreamlike and ethereal feeling.
