This palace was so immense that no conventional unit of measurement could describe it.
Even the pillars surrounding it—after being scoured and eroded by the river of time for hundreds of millions of years, with more than half of them flaked away and collapsed—still dwarfed the Superhuman Tower standing in the heart of Dragon City in grandeur, soaring into the clouds.
Around the palace were piled, or perhaps floating, irregular little mountains covered in jagged protrusions.
At first, Meng Chao thought they were ruins from the surrounding buildings, drawn together and heaped into piles.
Only upon closer inspection did he realize that these little mountains, each with an average volume exceeding Dragon City's newly built 100,000-Person Stadium, were actually burial mounds made of corpses.
Within those mounds lay countless "ancients," their bodies once wreathed in Spirit Runes and their flesh crystal-clear, now all transformed into gray-white rotten stone.
There were also Primordial Ferocious Beasts that had once torn the heavens and split the earth, their momentum crashing like a tidal wave as they devoured all things.
And there were colossal destructive idols resembling the Slaughter Angels Meng Chao had seen on Turan Holy Mountain—gigantic war machines manufactured by the Holy Light Faction, yet dozens of times larger than even the biggest Power Angel.
When these ancient, sacred, savage, powerful, and violent beings had still been alive and intact,
they had possessed the power to crush dead wood and rotten weeds, sweeping through armies by the thousand.
Nearly every one of them, whether flesh or machine, had been a decisive force capable of determining the outcome of a battle.
Yet around this palace, incomparably dim and incomparably glorious, they lay scattered in all directions, fluttering down like swarms of ants that had died without the slightest worth.
"It seems this palace