Jiang Lan stood in the Lower Palace.
He did not continue forward. Instead, he felt the changes around him.
He felt the gift from the Lower Palace and the words the seniors left behind.
Everyone knew that they would definitely die. Everyone only chose to send back some things. No one had returned.
That was true either. If they returned, how could he be here?
How could he have a gift left for him?
Jiang Lan calmly accepted their gift.
Since he had chosen to bear the responsibility, he would no longer worry and hesitate.
Instead, he would accept it and do it.
It was good as long as he had a clear conscience.
After a long time, everything returned to the initial calmness. Jiang Lan looked around him, silent.
He looked at the broken sword that was stabbed under his feet.
From now on, the sword on the platform represented him.
If the sky collapsed, he would hold it up.
