There is no defeat unless death takes you apart.

Dawn passed, and the lights disappeared. The Demonic Tree finally reached the sanctum of the memory terrain.

The sanctum is the core of the mind world. If harmed, the effect will be fatal.

Fog flickered over the Demonic Tree. The Dao of curiosity held no sway over him.

Memory now became a mere definer, and the Demonic Tree had finally reached its destiny.

He first had to pass through the fog and emerge from it in one piece to reach here.

Then what awaited him was a desert where the scorching heat engulfed him.

The dry air hitting his brown and white surface, and curiosity seemed like a tragedy—a stupidity.

As the dry heat hit him, the Demonic Tree sat in the desert, analyzing the terrain. But whatever he could analyze was nothing but a waste of time. He had started losing the purpose of why he came here.

He never thought that glimpsing a memory of someone could be this fatal.