Three days later, Apocalypse City.
Gale wind swept through the Divine Court's gateway city in the Lower Realm, carrying flecks of golden light.
Qin He came striding through the air, his gaze immediately settling on the tower piercing the clouds at the city's center—the Merit Tower.
From afar, the Merit Tower's glazed tiles still shone with a warm golden glow. But on closer inspection, a savage crack remained in a colonnade pillar on its western side. Lingering law fluctuations lay deep within the fissure, a scar left by his battle with the Divine Court cultivators.
Several furrows of varying depths crisscrossed the bluestone paving below. Faint golden light still clung to some places—the lingering traces of the power of merit. Even after so much time, they still carried a pressure that brooked no desecration.
Whenever cultivators passed by, they instinctively avoided those furrows, their expressions reverent.
With the Merit Tower at its heart, Apocalypse City's buildings stood packed together like scales on a fish, each wreathed in faint order law. The cultivators coming and going wore the Divine Court's standard robes, their auras condensed and their steps hurried. None of the bustle of the Lower Realm's cities lingered here; instead, it held more of the solemnity and coldness unique to the Divine Court.
Qin He reined in his aura, held the Realm Patrol Token in his palm, and walked slowly toward the guard station before the Merit Tower.
Behind the station sat two Divine Bridge Realm cultivators, their sharp gazes sweeping over the people passing through.
As Qin He approached, one of them looked up and said evenly, "Present your identity token and state your business."
Without an unnecessary word, Qin He raised his hand and passed over the Realm Patrol Token.
On the black token, the words "Realm Patrol"