The Great Hand from the True World!

It was a gray butterfly. It did not have any other colors. When it spread its wings, its body reached one hundred thousand feet. There was an indescribable mighty pressure spreading out from, and it descended on the ground.

At the instant Su Ming saw the gray butterfly, he remembered a legend that circulated in the Berserkers' world while he lived there…

There was a butterfly by the name of Harmonious Morus Alba…

"Harmonious Morus Alba…" The old man from Heavenly Spirit Tribe revealed himself next to Su Ming for the first time in the land of Berserkers. He stared blankly at the sky and the gray butterfly. A sagely light appeared in his eyes.

"In my theory, the final stage… would be Harmonious Morus Alba, the one spoken in the ancient legends. That should be it."

When the old man from Heavenly Spirit Tribe murmured those words, a complicated loor appeared on his face, but it lasted only for an instant before it was replaced by determination.