"That dream again."
The heavenly demon muttered. He was lying on the flowery plains of the heavenly demonic mountain, enjoying a peaceful rest. But that dream had interrupted him once again.
He squinted his eyes from the blinding rays of the sun and raised his arm to shield himself.
"Sigh…"
He massaged his temple and lay down on the ground once again, his dry lips begged for water, and his eyes for sleep.
His state was pathetic, unbefitting of his stature. But what did it matter?
No one was alive in his world to respect him anyway. What did it matter? He did not have to abide by the customs of Murim when Murim itself had rotted away.
"..."
'How long has it been?'
He thought as he stared at Murim once again, at the blackened lands that were once fields of wheat, a land of gold.
[You seem tired.]
"Tch."
The Heavenly demon, Ma Cheon clicked his tongue when the voice of the tower rang in his ears.
