Cold moonlight spilled down from the vault of heaven, illuminating the path through the dim mountain forest.
He Ao raised his head and looked at the endless mountains before him. He did not know how long he had been walking—several kilometers, ten kilometers, or perhaps hundreds.
When he had first seen these mountains, he had found them fresh and interesting.
But after seeing nothing but similar mountains and similar scenery all the way, he had gradually grown numb.
Dense forests stretched along the route, interspersed with rolling fields of withered grass.
Yet along the entire way, he had not seen a single living person, or even a single living creature.
There were no insects chirping or birds calling amid the thick woods, nor were there any rustling traces of life.
Only the yellowed leaves rose and fell in the night wind, making soft rustling sounds.
At first, the sound carried the loneliness of a forest. But when it was the only sound in the entire world, continuing without end, it was like the world itself was making some kind of chewing noise, filled with eerie terror.
After crossing another mountain ridge, He Ao stood at its summit and looked ahead.
This time, something different finally appeared before him.
What entered his field of vision was no longer an endless succession of rolling mountains, but a vast plain.
And where the plain met the mountains, a magnificent city stood there.
The city did not appear to be a modern creation. Though its walls were towering, they were made from rammed earth and piled stone, with no obvious reinforced concrete structures in sight.
It looked like something from an agricultural age with underdeveloped technology.
Yet those towering walls, seemingly seventy or eighty meters high, exceeded what He Ao knew of agricultural-era construction.