The Heavens: A Qing, the Yue Girl at the beginning

This profound feeling began to flow, overflowing from the edges of the black dragon's eye sockets, like ink from some kind of "cognition," dripping into reality and spreading out in imperceptible ripples...

The ripples moved so fast that they lost all intervals, overlapping to form a translucent, pale boundary that expanded outward at a uniform speed.

It spread outwards in all directions from Him as the center.

It resembles the gray haze commonly found at the edge of the Nibelungen, but is much darker in color, with grating-like stripes of light and dark, quite unlike any known medium that can be described, and is remarkably distinctive.

If one had to use a metaphor, it would be like a huge, invisible, absolutely silent halo, which disrupts the continuity of reality wherever it goes.

A halo swept over a piece of floating ice.

Several clumps of withered yellow lichen, which had struggled to grow on the ice for countless years, disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving no trace of their roots and leaving the original spot as smooth as a mirror.

Further away, a flock of Arctic terns is migrating.

They set off from the cliffs of Greenland, about to fly over the archipelago to summer in the Southern Hemisphere. The lead male, with its powerful wings, just barely grazed the edge of the halo—

Then, the video dropped frames.

One moment, the tern's wings were flapping rhythmically, its feathers gleaming silvery-white in the backlight; the next, the entire bird vanished abruptly into thin air. There was no fall, no mournful cry, no feathers scattered.

It's like a frame of film being cut off from a projector; the life within that frame is permanently deleted.

The subsequent flocks of birds did not cause any disturbance.

They continued flying forward, one after another, crashing into that invisible "gap," and then disappearing one after another.

Neat and quiet, as if following some predetermined procedure.

Until the entire migrating caravan entered the aura's range, only thin clouds and distorted light remained in the sky.

The halo continues to expand.

It licked the shore of a nearby island.

There used to be a tundra there, where purple saxifrage and white fairy trees would bloom in the summer. Now, though it is the end of December, during the polar night, the vegetation has long since turned yellow, but the roots are still dormant under the frozen soil.

The halo swept across.

The tundra has been leveled.

It wasn't leveled; rather, all traces of "growth" and "decay" were completely erased. The soil returned to its original, bare state after the glaciers retreated.

There are no holes left by plant roots, no depressions dug by animals, and no gullies eroded by flowing water.

It's as if time has been rewound, returning to the moment before this land was touched by life.

Even stranger things happened.

At the edge of the island, beneath a sea cliff, lie the skeletons of dozens of reindeer. They were a herd that starved to death last winter; their flesh had long been cleaned away by Arctic foxes and ravens, and their bones were smoothed by wind and snow.

But when the halo sweeps over—

The carbon, oxygen, calcium, hydrogen, and other atoms that make up the bones suddenly returned to the places they were in thousands of years ago.

Some atoms returned to the seabed sediment layer, becoming fragments of some ancient seashells; others transformed into inorganic forms, drifted into the atmosphere, and traveled south with the air currents.

A very small portion also appears directly in the rock strata of another island hundreds of kilometers away, becoming part of that rock that already existed during the Jurassic period.

The skeleton disappeared.

Their raw materials were "repatriated" to their earlier coordinates in the history of this planet. Like a book filled with words, someone erased all the words with an eraser, then tore the paper into pieces and scattered the scraps back into the original raw material pile of the paper mill.

The halo is still expanding.

It climbed up the island's ridge.

There used to be a small patch of bare rock face there, with lichen and moss growing in the crevices, and a few raven nests on the top of the rock. Although they had long been abandoned, dead branches and feathers still remained.

The halo spread slowly and steadily, causing any traces of flora and fauna on it to vanish.
The permafrost, having lost its root system, crumbled instantly, sliding down the slope to expose the fresh, rough bedrock below.

Without the buffer of vegetation, the traces of permafrost melting and wind and snow erosion are amplified and accelerated dramatically.

As a result, the rock face became mottled and cracked at a visible speed, with debris falling down in a flurry—without the intervention of life, this land was forced to repeat the erosion process that it should have slowly undergone over millions of years of wind and snow at a brutal rate of geological time, quickly becoming bare and rugged.

Next to be affected was a small supply port where all personnel had been evacuated due to the impending crisis.

A concrete and steel dock, a rusted warehouse, container wreckage half-buried in snow, a rusty crane leaning precariously...

When the halo arrives, all these creations of modern civilization are also marked with the label of "no longer reasonable".

The molecular bonds of steel bars "forget" the strength and toughness given to them by industrial smelting, and iron atoms tend to return to a more stable oxidation state; the hydrated calcium silicate gel structure of concrete disintegrates on its own, and sand and gravel separate: they collectively "return home" at the microscopic level.

In the blink of an eye, the port disappeared.

All that remained was a dull, lifeless beach, where the tide would come in and go, leaving behind wet sand.

It's as if humans have never driven the first pile here, never had a ship fully loaded with ore dock here, and never had a worker exhale white breath in the biting cold wind.

"Timing formatting?!"

As Zhao Qing sensed countless details above and below, he sighed softly, "Is this the power of the 'Third Form'? 'Despair' is beginning to truly reveal the weight its name should carry."

This is the deletion of life itself, the forced termination of low-entropy activities on the timeline, the cutting and burning of the threads of fate, erasing all ties with the other.

She looked toward the very center of that domain, where the silent Black King stood.

He no longer seems to be a dragon.

More like a solidified form existing between dawn and dusk.

Imagine the darkest moment before dawn, when the sky is just beginning to lighten, but the earth is still shrouded in the deep blue of night—depict that transitional state, give it mass, volume, and a sense of existence, and that is Nidhogg as we know it today.

It has no fixed outline; the boundaries of its body are constantly fluctuating, and only the shadow of its dragon wings that hang from the sky can be discerned.

It appears to be covered with fine wrinkles and vortices, which must be a cocoon woven from countless tiny threads of fate.

They are rotating at an extremely slow speed, like a frozen galaxy, like the stagnant eye of a hurricane, like the projection of some kind of thought so vast as to be beyond comprehension onto the visible plane.

Every thread was trembling, whispering.

The whispers were unreadable, but the underlying emotion was consistent: loneliness, loneliness, loneliness…

The sheer magnitude of this solitude is unimaginable, like the glaciers that have accumulated over millions of years in the polar permafrost, silently growing amidst the eternal snow and cold winds:

Each snowflake is a forgotten conversation, each layer of ice core is a frozen echo.

It grew ever higher and sharper until it exceeded a certain critical point, naturally triggering a collapse. The avalanche would engulf everything in its path.

The "time formatting" has arrived.

If we simply remove everything that makes Him feel lonely and return the world to its original state of nothingness, then there will be nothing to remind Him of his loneliness.

How absurd, how tragic, how...desperate.

"So this is what 'the convergence of fate' looks like."

Zhao Qing smiled with relief.

With the perfect demonstration right before her eyes, she immediately understood many unsolved mysteries and filled in the details that had previously required further thought.

Currently, in the most systematic theory of "fate" causality, time exists in at least three dimensions. Apart from the macroscopic dimension, all of them are confined to the microscopic state at the subatomic level or even the Planck level, exhibiting quantum fluctuations. They can be regarded as the basic units of "semi-parallel spacetime" and diffused by probability.

These microscopic timeline branches maintain weak coupling through entangled networks—similar to branches on a tree—sharing the main structure of the ground-state spacetime while forming different evolutionary paths at their ends.

Many unique interactions that defy classical common sense can no longer be described as "causality." Instead, they can only be described as "associations," or "indeterminate causal order." They cannot distinguish which comes first and which comes last, allowing for the simultaneous existence of two orders: A before B and B before A.

How can we explain the behavior of these strange quantum systems?

All you need to do is introduce a new, additional timeline.

Microscopic quantum events that operate in two or even three-dimensional time do not need to strictly follow the causal laws of one-dimensional time.

Expanding this theory, we can extend it to an ordered construct built upon multiple time dimensions: destiny.

They are a "living time," with approximate length, width, and height, constantly engaging in low-entropy activities on the timeline, like threads that gradually grow and weave themselves.

All the information corresponding to an individual's consciousness is encoded on the boundary of destiny; this event horizon is the "Alaya consciousness".

Heaven's mandate is nature, and human nature is the heart.

Currently, Nidhogg's ultimate "offensive" is acting on the countless scattered threads of fate surrounding it, triggering a reorganization and phase transition of the microscopic timeline in a large area.

It's like melting a chip into a single crystal, rendering the entire PN junction useless. The information hidden in fate is erased, and those "branches of possibility" in spacetime wither, break, and disappear one by one.

Like a tree in late autumn that has been stripped of all its leaves in an instant, leaving only bare, lifeless branches.

The corresponding individual consciousness and related causal events then perish and are erased from history. Reality then automatically corrects itself, filling and covering the gaps with semi-parallel spacetime branches lacking that "fate" line, maintaining overall logical consistency. Thus, living beings vanish into thin air, while non-living matter, based on its degree of "causal contamination," experiences decoherent disturbances.

At the same time, such brushstrokes are not always perfect. They often leave color differences, brushstroke marks, or even accidentally reveal the texture of the underlying canvas, presenting a "frame-dropping" appearance.

"It's amazing!" Zhao Qing stared at the halo that had spread to her feet, enduring its endless influence: "Fortunately, my destiny is not tainted by the karma 'color lotus'. It is the same as the Great Void, passing by without leaving a trace, and can be immune to most of its power."

This was a combat advantage she had already foreseen beforehand.

"However, it's not entirely unaffected..."

The sun and moon still shine side by side, and the trajectories of the stars in the sky remain unchanged, but their "colors" have changed.

The azure and silver-white that originally symbolized the universe of youth now seem to have been soaked by time, turning a pale yellow like old paper.

Lukewarm, murky, and senile, like afternoon sunlight passing through thick frosted glass, it has lost its sharpness and represents "aging".

In contrast to the vast universe, which expands faster than the speed of light and cannot be illuminated, a finite inner universe, under the continuous illumination of starlight, will naturally have its own background color.

The hour of Zi (11 PM - 1 AM) has not yet ended and the heavens have just begun to open; it should be a time of vigorous growth and eternal glory.

However, when the celestial bodies were affected by the aftershocks of "time-sequence formatting," those who could be considered Zhao Qing's "family" were also affected, and their "entropy" increased rapidly in the microscopic time dimension.

Unlike the alternative time-reversal "retrogression" that occurs when a plant dies completely, if fate is merely decaying, what will appear is an increasing "decay".

Simply put, it's like a person getting older and older, and just as they're about to die, suddenly even their birth record disappears, which is quite contrary to common sense.

but.

This state does not significantly reduce the strength of her Dharma form.

After all, it is just a projection of the inner universe outwards, so it can be refreshed repeatedly and returned to its initial state. It can also be easily reset when you get old.

Furthermore, simulating and experiencing the subsequent steps of the universe's evolution in advance can actually help Zhao Qing's cultivation progress.

The deadly weapon that brought fate to its knees became a gift delivered to its door.

This is an extremely rare opportunity for enlightenment.

"In that case, please allow me to return a small gift!"

She tried making a move, and countless sword intents were quietly drawn back from the network that stretched across the heavens and earth, embedded in the highly stretched lines of space, and shot out like a slingshot. Midway, they suddenly twitched, causing the void to vibrate and crystal patterns to appear. Rainbow light suddenly rose, disappeared into the ethereal, and stretched out into a perfectly flat mirror.

The mirror was thrown into the air, spinning millions of times in an instant, as if stirring something, before the crystal patterns recombine and flow, slashing in reverse.

A slender, black-and-white sword light illuminated the sky, piercing straight towards the center of the pale halo.

"Virtual Two Elements" utilizes the Schwinger effect of vacuum tearing to mass-produce positive and negative electron pairs, then gathers antimatter to constrain them and bombards them towards the other side.

Countless tiny, black cracks spread through the air inside the halo, centered on Nidhogg, and then closed up.

The sword light reached within three zhang of the Black King, crashed into a writhing shadow, flickered for a few moments, and then dissipated on its own.

It was as if an invisible circle was keeping it out.

"It seems that the attack has been largely ineffective."

It's like standing on the edge of a real black hole; even if you have no mass, your path will be distorted by its gravity.

At extremely close range, the sword intent, sword energy, and spiritual energy that Zhao Qing outputs will inevitably be forcibly "colored," and the causal relationship it carries will be judged and included in the "to be formatted" sequence before the attack effect itself.

Thus, it disintegrates and disappears on its own.

Even elementary particles cannot be avoided.

To some extent, this can be considered a spacetime phase armor. Countless "Leaf" originating from this world line are erased before they collide with the Black King and replaced by parallel timelines, thus achieving absolute defense.

Even a conceptual artifact like Gungnir, which can lock onto targets across multiple world lines, might not be effective. It formats itself every time it jumps, and the fastest one gets the highest priority.

Considering that Odin seems to have no intention of joining the battle, it is estimated that the Black King is more powerful, and his seniority in the power of destiny makes him more capable.

If you back down at the last minute, you'll have to deal with the consequences later.

"So, what's the next step? Are we just going to let this territory expand unchecked, flooding the Canadian Arctic Archipelago, flooding North America and the Arctic Circle... until it covers the entire Earth's surface and sweeps across the globe?"

Zhao Qing seemed to be deep in thought, and countless deductions flashed through his mind.

It's almost certain that while Nidhogg is powerful, it's not strong enough to confront Earth itself. Its doomsday may not be able to penetrate far into outer space, but it could easily engulf and destroy the existing biosphere, and no underground shelter would be able to survive.

In other words, all life forms on Earth, except perhaps unconscious viruses, will be wiped clean and restarted.

The history of prokaryotes spanning over three billion years, eukaryotes spanning two billion years, multicellular organisms spanning one billion years, animal evolution spanning 6.65 million years, vertebrates spanning 520 million years, reptiles spanning 320 million years, dragons spanning 160 million years, hominids spanning seven million years, dragon empires spanning tens of thousands of years, human civilization spanning thousands of years, and the brilliant light of modern science will all be wiped out and returned to nothingness.

Earth will return to its most authentic natural form, with only lava volcanoes, rivers, lakes, and seas remaining as geological features.

The mountain scenery fades with time, and the sound of water carries away the years.

The rise and fall of dynasties are ever-changing, yet all seem the same in retrospect.

Clean and tidy.

It can be described as the ultimate dream of environmentalists.

Black King, has he gone mad? Won't erasing all life lead to even deeper loneliness and despair?
"250 days, more than eight months." Zhao Qing calculated the theoretical duration, which was the cutoff point when the halo would be wiped out on the other side of the earth, even though she was doing her best to restrain and exhaust the light from the sidelines.

The final field is not uniform; it's like an avalanche. It initially accelerates, but as the terrain flattens, it slows down.

However, Nidhogg, the Black King, may not stay put. If He takes the initiative, the efficiency of the spread will undoubtedly increase dramatically.

Of course, this guy doesn't seem to be in a good state either; his consciousness might be undergoing an impact, temporarily abandoning his basic reflexes.

How to block it? How to slow it down? How to defend against it?
She gradually came to an answer, though its correctness still needed to be verified.

It's hard.

But it's not entirely impossible.

"He ascends from the highest heavens to receive the mandate of heaven, and treads on frost and ice without feeling the cold."

Zhao Qing recited softly, and his body shone brightly.

……

Dark clouds, following the principles of turbulent fluids, piled up and swirled, converging above the halo and gradually transforming into a gray-black vortex thousands of miles in diameter. The dim, leaden light cascading from the vortex's center illuminated the ever-expanding "lifeless forbidden zone" below, making it resemble an apocalyptic altar.

Several ravens circled nearby, their eyes gleaming with golden light.

"……here we go."

In the far distance, inside a monitoring station that was still in operation, someone stared blankly at the fading life signals on the screen, muttering to himself. As the ruler of the dark side and a member of the Dragon Clan Elder Council, he knew very well the immense and invincible power of this force.

"……it's over."

Further away, on the bridge of an icebreaker, someone closed their eyes, their voice hoarse, a mixture of reluctance and relief.

Having been abandoned and wandering through the long night for thousands of years, they have not yet reached their homeland in the moonlit wasteland, but they have already seen the end.

The battle flag fell, and the war drums fell silent. The last warriors laid down their weapons, helped each other up, and slowly knelt facing the direction from which the halo had spread, as if paying homage to the final resting place of their lives.

At least... I can choose to rest now.

"Should we...do something?"

"Or rather, what else can we do?" In the underground bunker, the two elderly generals remained silent for a long time before suddenly embracing each other.

Faced with this level of transcendent confrontation, all of humanity's scheming, technology, and courage seem pale and laughable. They are merely spectators, waiting for the actors to decide how the final curtain will fall.

It's like watching a tsunami rush towards you, and you're standing barefoot on the beach with only a toy sand shovel in your hand.

"I'll be leaving now; I can't be of any help anyway."

Xia Mi decisively turned and left, seizing the last moment to board the space vehicle and quickly set the coordinates of the end point of the journey.

All the backup plans were useless. No one expected that the Black King would be forced into a desperate mode so quickly and become a monster of the system.

It's disgustingly outrageous.

"...History is down to its final countdown." The fictional fruit of life grows in an independent kingdom on the treetop of the world. Someone looks solemn, yet with a hint of helplessness: "Soon, we will be turning back time."

"Hopefully, it can last a while."

……

"No, there's no need to worry like that." (End of Chapter)