His fingers brushed over the rough stone of the mural, and the history of the Silver Serpent Race seemed to flash before his eyes.
The weight of countless years washed over him.
The Silver Serpent Race Priests had preserved the traces of their race's existence through these murals.
Through them, Feng Qi saw a race rise from humble beginnings, endure the trials of time, face collapse several times, yet stubbornly persevere each time and march toward an even more glorious future.
But after countless rises and falls, the Silver Serpent Race had ultimately still met its end.
No dynasty lasted forever. No one could escape time's erosion.
At that moment, Feng Qi understood those words more deeply.
Just as the Mist Lord had said, any seemingly weak racial faction might have ancestors whose glorious history was beyond their imagination... Yet as the years changed, perhaps the descendants of those once-mighty races had long since forgotten that history.
The history of the Domain World was like a history book caught in an endless cycle.
Amid ceaseless competition, some races rose powerfully, while others perished or fragmented.
There were even racial factions that, after collapsing and disbanding, saw their wandering descendants establish brand-new dynasties at some point in the future.
There were no eternally powerful races, nor were there races forever condemned to obscurity.
Take the Spirit Race, for example.
No one had expected such a humble slave faction to rise in the human world, much less establish an unrivaled dynasty fifteen hundred years later and become one of the future Eight Royal Races.
The long-gone Silver Serpent Race had been unable to escape that cycle either.
The Silver Serpent Empire had collapsed, yet countless branch racial factions had emerged from it.
Among them was the Silver Moon Race he knew of,