Evan Yang took the round disk artifact, then said, "I'll leave things here to you."
"Rest assured, I'll wait for your return," Elder Woodspirit replied.
Evan Yang smiled, then left. When he arrived again in the Chaos World, it was like facing a blank blueprint—he had no idea where to go next.
"Where should I go?" Evan muttered, looking around, thinking left and right, and finally picking a direction to head off.
Evan Yang didn’t know what lay in the direction he’d chosen, but before leaving, he memorized the coordinates of the Immortal Realm so he could find his way back later. He continued flying, planning to find a relatively large world-realm to enter—since a large world meant a strong founder, and a strong founder meant more powerful cultivators inside, maybe even some Gods.
But there probably weren’t any nearby. After all, the local Gods had already gathered together to fight the Plane Lord of the Otherworld. The only worlds left were remote ones that hadn’t been touched by those events.
Evan Yang kept searching, but finding a suitable world-realm proved difficult. Twenty days passed, and he still hadn’t found anything—but already, he was starting to feel unwell.
He stopped, checked his body, and found his blood was abnormally active, as if it wanted to burst from his veins and escape.
Evan Yang’s eyes grew suspicious. He recalled what Terry Yang’s father had said: the backlash would erupt in a month. It had been exactly a month. Was it really happening? Evan couldn’t believe the Yang clan’s Flameblood actually had such a taboo.
Faced with this situation, Evan Yang could only try to calm his mind and steady his blood, but this time it was even more violent than usual. Even meditation didn’t help; he felt his whole body begin to change color, turning green.