Grand Emperor Swordsage had perished. His Master was in seclusion. The empress was working on cultivation. Erniu had gone away. It was almost like the spinning of a gnomon on a gigantic sundial. In half of a sixty-year-cycle, a huge storm would hit.

The ancient immortal waiting outside of Revered Ancient was now a sharp blade hanging over the heads of all living beings. He was a mortal threat. It was easy to imagine how intense the sensation of danger would become as time passed.

Even to mortals, half of a sixty-year-cycle wasn’t very long. And that was even more the case with cultivators. If one went into secluded meditation, that time could pass very quickly.

The sense of danger would turn into pressure that would weigh down on the world. All species were going to be making their final preparations. In fact, it seemed like the only option they had was to beg for protection from the gods. And thus, some places became even more peaceful than before. Others, in contrast, descended into chaos.

Meanwhile, the apathetic gods just watched everything play out. To thēm, this delay was just an amusing twist in all the drama.