The phoenix led tens of thousands of birds as they flew over from the end of the horizon. Behind them, clouds akin to a sea of fire billowed as they swept by Chang’an. A golden winged roc perched on top of Xingqing Palace, its pupils reflecting the common people of the bustling Divine Land. Within the silence, dynasties rise and fall, while tides ebb and flow. Li Jinglong slowly dragged his body riddled with wounds, releasing a resplendent light from his hand as he kept approaching Hong Jun. “The living… are passing travelers…” His low voice resounded through the world, and within an instant, the black fog that enveloped the earth receded before the light...
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