A broken village, an old tree, and an old man.
Such a scene exuded an aura of decay, giving people a feeling of Twilight.
If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, no one would have believed that the gods who controlled the game world were in such dire straits.
His clothes were in tatters, and his face was Haggard, like an old tree that had dried up.
He was burned by fire, eaten by insects, and cut by birds.
He had gone through wind and rain, endured the wind, the snow, and the sword, and then turned into such a miserable state.
With just a light kick, they would fall to the ground and turn into pieces.
It was truly lamentable for a God to be in such a miserable state.
"Hehe, Yingluo."
The old man's shriveled face trembled when he saw Tang Zhen in front of him. He quickly lowered his head.
Looking at the ants passing by, they seemed to contain infinite mysteries, and just like that, they wasted the boring time.
