At the center of the five-colored altar.
"Braydon, is it you?" Lowell Neal turned around with difficulty.
"Uncle Lowell, it's me!" Braydon Neal raised his hand in response and immediately employed his lightning technique.
Lightning crackled, enveloping Braydon's body, serving both as a weapon and a protective shield.
Lightning was the nemesis of evil.
Braydon took a step forward, intending to enter the five-colored altar to rescue his second uncle and grandfather.
Given Graham Neal's precarious condition, his life could be extinguished at any moment—it couldn't be delayed any longer.
"Don't come in!" Lowell shouted, but it was already too late.
Braydon stepped into the five-colored altar area, and the moment he did, the scenery before him transformed.
The world seemed to flip upside down, and Braydon felt like he had been transported back fourteen years to Preston city.
