Black Crow Throne

The entire city was silent.

There was none of the chaos, slaughter, arson, and looting that often followed a city's fall. Everything was tranquil. The cultivators remained quietly where they were, not daring to move.

Jiang Ding walked, then paused, making his way into Tushan Immortal City's Third-grade High-rank Spirit Vein.

The former Tushan Demon Palace had long since vanished without a trace.

It had been too cheaply made, built only from ordinary stone, neither grand nor magnificent in design. The Black Clan had leveled it and constructed a garden of singing birds and fragrant flowers on its original site.

White mist drifted through it. Rare spirit herbs and spirit trees were planted everywhere, while Immortal Cranes, Spirit Birds, and elk appeared from time to time. Occasionally, spirit flowers bloomed, their strange fragrance assailing the nose.

Mountains and waters, a new view at every step; a new world at every step.

Walking through it soothed the heart and refreshed the mind, bringing an inexplicable sense of comfort. Yet one could not tell where it came from—only that the rocks, ponds, and woods all perfectly accorded with heaven and earth, with nature itself, elevated to the realm of art.

After ten thousand years steeped in wealth and privilege, even the slightest glimpse was enough to leave one astonished.

Compared to this garden, Jiang Ding's old Tushan Demon Palace hardly deserved the grand word "palace." It should have been renamed the Dilapidated Thatched Hut.

That way, perhaps it might have gained a little more of a recluse's transcendence and spared itself ridicule.

Jiang Ding admired it carefully for a while before withdrawing from this aesthetic appreciation common to all humankind.

"A little disgusting."

He sighed.

He did not merely look with his eyes; he also conducted a meticulous Spiritual Sense Scan.

Beneath