"This place looked pretty realistic."
As they neared the city below, Number Five's thought-form muttered softly.
Wang Jixuan's other soul responded, raising his head to look upward. He saw patches of white clouds, and beyond them, a pale gray sky that seemed infinitely lofty.
Without the blue sky formed from the Sea of Grievances, the scenery here was much inferior.
A landscape built on human lives.
Daoist Wang muttered inwardly as he and Number Five slowly descended.
The other soul felt a faint pulling force. The closer they got to the ground below, the stronger that force became. By the time they reached the surface and landed on a street at the city's edge, the other soul could feel "gravity," so he no longer drifted along as he walked.
A breeze brushed their faces, carrying the familiar smells of a street. The ground, paved with broken stone slabs, was cracked in places and worn smooth where passersby's shoes had rubbed against it.
It really did look convincing.
The architecture here was entirely unlike Earth's. Everywhere stood "square funnels" that were narrow at the bottom and broad at the top. Occasionally, they saw buildings shaped like Spiritual Practitioner spires, along with statues scattered throughout the city—though every statue's face had been destroyed.
Wang Jixuan turned his head and looked around, spotting figures hiding inside the buildings.
They cowered in fear, some already trembling. About a third of them had fallen to their knees and were continuously kowtowing, speaking a Starry Sky Dialect Wang Jixuan could not understand.
The Daoist quickly noticed something unusual.
There were no elderly people or children here. Most were teenage boys and girls or young men and women, and every one of them was handsome or beautiful in their own distinctive way.
There was no ugliness.
The