When his senses returned, Zhang Zhiyuan found himself in a gray, hazy hall. The hall had something of a Greek Temple style to it, with thick arched columns visible around, but the carvings on the crossbeams were Chinese-style-chiwen and mythical creatures. Even more discordant was the fact that the furniture inside the hall, such as tables, chairs, and cabinets, was modern, overall creating a sense of a hodgepodge.
But he knew he was not in reality at the moment.
Because all the objects were in shades of gray and white, with not a single detail visible on their surfaces. If he had to describe it, everything appeared as though they were unfinished models; they had form, but no texture had been applied.
He took two steps forward and quickly noticed a figure in front of the hall.
More precisely, a humanoid shadow.
"You are the founder of Paradise," Zhang Zhiyuan said slowly, "and also the host."
