Qin He wore coarse hemp clothes, a gleaming great sword slung over his shoulder, a bow and arrow hanging across his back, a Short Knife at his waist, and a pack draped over him. He walked unhurriedly across the wilderness, snow and ice crunching beneath his feet.
Behind him stood the towering, brightly lit City Pass.
Several hundred Night Watchmen, just as lavishly equipped as he was, had their backs to the City Pass as they headed deeper into the gorge wilderness.
The frigid wind carried ice chips straight into their faces, stinging painfully.
The lights of the City Pass gradually faded into the distance, and the Night Watchmen who had set out together slowly grew more scattered.
Some traveled in groups of two or three, some in squads of ten. Lone travelers like Qin He were few and far between.
Qin He glanced around. Seeing no one nearby, he looked back toward the City Pass and let out a breath. A long plume of white mist billowed from his mouth and nose, revealing a somewhat gloomy face.
Qin He had imagined many scenarios for arriving in the Upper Realm, but his current predicament was something he had never, ever anticipated.
That battle in which he had lost his memory had shattered more than just the Chaos Shovel.
It had also destroyed Qin He's Dao foundation. At present, not a trace of Origin Power remained within him. Even his perception of the spiritual energy between heaven and earth had become exceedingly vague.
All cultivation techniques and spells requiring Origin Power had failed completely, leaving him unable to use them.
He could not even sense the existence of Armpit Space or Mustard Seed Space. His divine sense was so weak that he could not look within himself.
That was why Qin