When the morning sun shone on the valley in the wilderness, more than four hundred Wanderers had already gathered in the empty space in front of the cliff.
Each of their faces carried a kind of pious expectation, their numb eyes for the first time had light, and their tired bodies seemed to have been injected with a powerful vitality.
Something called Hope was taking root and sprouting in their hearts.
Qian Long had a smile on his face while Tai Seng's eyes flickered with a crazed adoration. They were all looking at Tang Zhen, who was standing alone in front of the black stone platform, with a fiery gaze.
Everyone held their breath, afraid that they would ruin the solemn atmosphere.
