On the granite steps.
The old man in a long robe watched the young man below, and a trace of nostalgia rose in his cloudy eyes.
He looked...
Far too much alike.
But he was not...
Those who lived too long carried a stench that the nose could not detect, yet the eyes could see. If he were an old monster like himself, someone who had lived for more than two hundred years, he would surely be able to see it.
But clearly, the young man before him did not carry that smell.
That left only one possibility...
Thinking of that sole possibility, the old man's eyes could not help but grow more melancholy.
While the old man observed Chu Guang, Chu Guang was also studying him.
Judging from the wrinkles on his face alone, he could no longer tell how old the man was.
Perhaps, to this Chief, lifespan had already become an empty concept.
Yet Chu Guang felt not the slightest envy.
Where there was death, there was life.
What never died or perished was stone—and also a curse upon the living.
The Great Rift was such a place. Everyone who lived here, young or old, carried a deathly air about them, like shattered rocks tumbling down from a mountaintop.
And it was precisely this stale air that had stirred the Free State's rebellion and its extreme longing for freedom.
No one wanted to be born inside a coffin, only to become a burial offering in the foreseeable future.
Compared with Origin City, which had witnessed the birth of the entire Wasteland Era, Bugra, formed by wastelanders, was undoubtedly the infant.
A wild thought suddenly came to Chu Guang's mind.
This guy was like an undead creature from a fantasy novel...
"At your invitation, I came to the