"All are his thoughts manifest, all are his Dao?" Meng Po seemed to have heard a fantastical tale, and after a long silence finally came to her senses, saying, "Are you implying that none of us truly exist, and we live only in another's imagination?"
"Indeed, all are illusions, all are phantoms, never once real!"
The Seventy-Two Lifetimes seemed to have already understood everything, but faced it with calm acceptance, without a trace of resistance, his expression brimming with a contented smile.
Crack!
Suddenly, a crisp sound echoed, and the entire space of the underworld's Yellow Springs Path shattered inch by inch, as if a mirror fragmented.
Hell's Gate, Yellow Springs Path, Forgotten River, the Bridge of Helplessness, the Three Lives Stone, the Tower of Homesickness… as the space fell apart, each disappeared in turn.
Even Meng Po and the Seventy-Two Lifetimes dissolved into nothingness.
