Braydon Neal regarded him with a faint smile. "Lucian, aren't you stationed in the northern desert? What brings you here?"
"There's been an incident in the capital. Grand Secretary Lowe requested that I inform you," Lucian Cross replied, projecting images through his watch.
On the screen appeared the southern gate of the capital, where a vast crowd had gathered.
The mass of people was dense, likely exceeding 100,000 individuals.
Amidst the throng, over ten thousand heads could be counted, creating a sea of bodies bustling with noise and activity.
Their collective aim was evident—they sought entry into the 16th ruin.
The once-secretive nature of the ruins had dissipated over the years, particularly due to the Northern Army's frequent deployments there.
As word spread among martial artists who had returned from the South Pole Island, the impending disaster became common knowledge, disseminated further among the populace.
