"Cultivation really had become rather slow." Wang Xuan sat at a window table, barely touching the famed local delicacies of this planet.
He did take a few sips of a drink pressed from tree bark. It was slightly bitter at first, then a faint fragrance slowly flowed through his mouth, carrying a trace of sweetness with it.
It had been nearly a century since he tossed the Dao-Carrying Paper behind the Land of Fate. Cultivating in the decaying present world, he deeply felt how difficult things were for Supernatural Practitioners in such an environment.
The mythology of the Old Supernatural Center had completely ended. Even the Transcendent Immortals who had struggled to hold on, along with those powerful Gods and Devils left behind from the past, had almost all died out.
The restaurant had an excellent setting. Located on the 152nd floor of the building, it overlooked the entire city's beautiful night scenery—neon lights glittered, fountains shifted across the plazas, and mist and light interwove into countless beautiful sights.
After sitting too long on unmanned meteorites in the icy cosmos, Wang Xuan felt he had strayed too far from mortal worldly affairs, so he returned to the world for another walk.
In the distance, a sparkling river ran through the city. Beneath the night sky, amid swaying lights, large ships and yachts floated upon it, while many children set wish lanterns afloat by the riverbank.
This bustling city night did make Wang Xuan lose himself briefly in thought, but only for an instant. This present world seemed separated from him by a veil, a layer of thin mist. In the end, there was still a sense of distance.
Just imagine it: if he stamped one foot, the starry sky would go dark; if he flicked a finger, nearby stars would