It really was a place with customs unlike any other, just as the two gatekeepers had described.
The young man had carried himself with such poise that Fu Qian hadn't pressed him further. He'd simply watched the boy's small, straight-backed figure walk away.
Even his clothes had been proper and serious, plain yet dignified.
The only pity was that they bore no distinctive insignia or anything else that might help Fu Qian form a clearer picture of that "Lone King."
Of course, he hadn't come away empty-handed. As the bronze-colored handbell rang out, Fu Qian had happened to notice a crisscrossing mark on the palm holding it.
The mark was proportionally smaller to fit the hand, but just as bright red.
So everyone here was a winner of the group interview?
With that guess in mind, Fu Qian looked around again. The atmosphere seemed to grow more lively.
There was another important point: the crisscrossing mark looked clearly different from his own. It was hard not to suspect that these were unique identification marks.
If so, impersonating someone else seemed difficult—good. Let's see who still dares to impersonate me, Ariel.
With a cold snort, Fu Qian clasped his hands behind his back and strode forward, turning the corner toward the distance.
It wasn't within the range of the map in his mind, but this should be the right direction.
Unhurried, yet resolute, Fu Qian walked as if through a sacred domain he had long yearned to visit.
And the "direction" of his supposed destination was actually quite simple.
With no clear idea where to go on his pilgrimage, he had a definite goal: first, head to the "place where the dream began," the site of the interview.
That didn't mean Fu Qian thought he was certain to find clues about