There was an unfamiliar air in the galaxy. It was empty, unlike how galaxies were usually. Within that emptiness was some dazzling starlight. A gigantic vortex appeared to the northwest of True Morning Dao World. As its vortex rotated, the sound echoed in all directions.

There were ninety-nine giant stone platforms floating around that vortex. Complicated runic symbols were carved on all of them. When they shone with a dark light, ninety-nine cultivators could be found sitting on them.

There was a rotten presence spreading out from all of them. Their expressions were of indifference, as if they had been sitting there for countless years. There was a huge black sword stuck into the stone platforms, and it was positioned right in front of each person. The weeping of the swords could be heard faintly.

They were crying, roaring, because they were in a state akin to being abandoned. It had been many years since they had drunk a living being's blood. They could only stay there and accom