Outside the mine, Quinn Shepherd scanned the surroundings, urgency in his eyes. The sky and earth were crowded with gigantic eyes—some rising from the ground, others blinking to reveal deep, gaping maws.
Those were the Void Behemoths, encircling them in an impenetrable ring.
Within the vein, Grant perched atop the now-shrunken Void Mother Behemoth, driving it straight at Noel.
His power surged; the Void Mother Behemoth tore through the layers of space, vanishing and reappearing like a phantom. Its claws and tongue were natural weapons, blocking Noel’s Emperor Sword—one lick even knocked a Great Dao steel-seal loose from the blade!
"Shepherd Heavenly Venerable, you don’t need to rush off just yet."
Grant’s voice echoed, light and mocking: "Wait until I’ve killed Noel. Then I’ll take my beloved’s corpse and leave with you all. Loren can’t die either—I still need him to track down the other Creators. These Void Behemoths will keep you safe!"
Loren slumped powerlessly in the carriage, his eyes hollow and vacant. After a moment, realization dawned; he turned to Quinn, pleading, "Brother Shepherd, kill me! I can’t let him find where my people are hiding! Please, just kill me!"
"Even if you die, it’s pointless. Your divine sense remains, your soul persists—I can search your spirit, dig through your memories." Grant’s divine sense invaded his mind, smooth and effortless.
Loren went numb.
Now, even death was out of reach.
Quinn’s mind raced as he tried to reassure him: "Loren, with the Void Mother Behemoth drawn out of the Nineteenth Void, we can try reaching your Ancestor-Spirits now."
Loren rallied for a moment, but despair quickly returned. He muttered, "Even if I reach my ancestors, what difference does it make? I’m doomed. I have to die—I can’t bring disaster to my people. Kill me..."
"There’s still a chance."
Quinn’s divine sense rippled: "I built two altars—one inside the Ancestral Court, one outside. Honestly, we don’t even need the inner altar to escape. This is our only shot. If you can reach your Ancestor-Spirits, I’ll trigger the reverse-summoning at the outer altar and pull us out. You have to connect with them—fast!"
Hope flickered in Loren’s eyes.
Quinn caught that look, his heart twisting with unexpected sympathy.
Those eyes were pure and clear, reflecting Loren’s soul.
In this ruined, savage world, hearts had grown cunning and cruel. It was rare to see such innocence anymore—a Creator wandering the Grand Void, untouched by worldly scheming, still able to trust and hand his fate to others.
That was Loren Shaw—a soul so pure Quinn had only ever seen it in infants.
Even Quinn’s own eyes were clear, but he knew he wasn’t truly like Loren. Since childhood, the elders of Oldridge Village had taught him to hide cunning behind innocence, to wear a mask of purity.