“I promise that I will find you and take you out of here with me,” he said quietly, and then disappeared. When he reappeared, lightning filled the sky. Innumerable arms stretched out from the sludge that covered the ground. Off in the distance, the frozen, motionless form of the gigantic statue still stood next to the pitch-black form of the Ancient Temple of Doom.
It was the same world, but Meng Hao was not the same person.
He no longer had a Flawless Foundation. His rapidly healing Dao Pillar had propelled him into the realm of the legendary Perfect Foundation!
As soon as he stepped forth into the sixth matrix, he flew up into the air, radiating power from within his Cultivation base. He took a breath, and everything shook. Thunder and lightning crashed, and the earth trembled. Because of his Perfect Foundation, Meng Hao could not absorb even the slightest bit of spiritual energy in the outside world, but this place was filled with massive amounts spiritual energy which rushed toward Meng Hao, filling him. As he breathed, Meng Hao could sense that he was like… the lord of this world!
Lightning and thunder crashed in the sky, and Meng Hao’s long hair whipped about. He lifted his right hand and waved it downward toward the ground.
As his palm descended, the sludge began to quiver. The grasping hands suddenly stopped moving, and the countless faces all looked toward Meng Hao. Their expressions were no longer hostile, but rather filled with veneration and even excitement.
Suddenly, a massive crack split the earth and the sludge. It grew wider and deeper, splitting apart the hands and faces along with it. Meng Hao flew down toward it.
As he approached it, the sludge crept away, not daring to come close to him, as if a deep fear of him existed within it.
Meng Hao shot inside, his body flashing like lightning and radiating determination. The crack grew wider and wider, and within the space of a few breaths, Meng Hao came to a stop. Even as the crack grew larger, he saw it, there, deep within… a body.
It was not thirty meters long. It was the mastiff, but only the size of a palm. Its eyes were closed, and patches of fur were visible through the sludge that covered its body. Its fur wasn’t red, but deathly gray. It was no longer fierce and savage. And the cute, furry puppy it had once been, now existed only in Meng Hao’s eternal memories.
He thought about how as it grew up, it would run in circles around his feet, letting out playful yipping sounds, its fur rippling.
Many images unfolded in Meng Hao’s mind. He thought of how he and the mastiff had rushed together head on into battle in the third matrix. He thought about how it had happily run back and forth around him in the desert of the fourth matrix.
He thought about how the poison flare-up had reduced him to little more than a mortal in the fifth matrix, and how the mastiff had protected him regardless of everything. He thought about how after every battle, it would crawl back to him, lick his hand and lay next to him, watching over him vigilantly.
He had tried to make it leave, but it chose to stay.