Before he passed through the void in the sky, Jiang Wang seemed to see a white-haired old man desperately flying toward the mountain peak.
But it was just a fleeting thought, and the world before his eyes was already changed.
It was a ruin, an extremely magnificent ruin.
Describing the ruin as "magnificent" seemed improper, but it was indeed the most genuine feeling in Jiang Wang's heart.
The towering columns had broken off in front, and the luster of the glazed tile fragments was completely lost.
Broken walls and remnants were everywhere, a fallen splendor met the eye.
Even the occasional breeze couldn't stir the heavy stillness; the stories of this place were buried in the dust.
It was impossible to fly here; there was an ancient set of standards soaked into the history. It seemed as if the long-lost honor still stubbornly maintained its dignity even after a prolonged decay.
Ahead was a broken lamp; Jiang Wang bypassed it and landed on a tile that was only half intact.
