After flying slowly inland for a while, Chen Chuan saw a great golden temple standing atop a mountain ridge, radiant with light.
This was Donggui Temple, which belonged to the same lineage as Eight Prosperity Temple. Merchants from the Eastern Continent had funded and built it long ago, and many of the people living nearby were still their descendants.
This was where Huo Zhuifeng had arranged to leave messages for him.
Seeing numerous barriers of varying sizes around the area, and knowing how powerful the Zen Sect was on the island, he stopped flying. He descended, and Zhao Ming swiftly shrank and landed on his shoulder.
Zhao Ming's plumage was gorgeous, and he looked part bird, part lizard. Normally he drew attention, but here he hardly stood out.
Luozhijia had long been a vital hub for trade between the eastern and western seas. Its pleasant climate also drew all manner of rare creatures from both continents. The island even had a Ten Thousand Treasures Expo Park devoted to selling unusual altered lifeforms.
More than seventy percent of the locals followed the Zen Sect. The men wore sleeveless robes, their arms covered in fine lines of scripture. The women wore colorful tube dresses and gold bangles, their long hair coiled into buns. Their dress had a style unique to Nanyang, with traces of the Eastern Continent.
Chen Chuan had withdrawn his field, dulling other people's awareness of him. Even if they saw him, they would overlook him and retain no impression afterward.
It was his first time here, so he did not hurry to his destination. He followed the mountain road and took in the scenery along the way.
He could feel that this might be his last chance for such leisurely pleasures before the Great Collision arrived.
The mountain was