Land of Origin, the border of the Lasea continent.
Nearly ten years had passed since An Yang's last departure.
Why call it the border? Because he could hear the sea, smell its salty dampness, and see a few scattered seagulls flying to the mountain in the distance.
Aside from the sea, Lasea seemed to have very few lakes capable of supporting seagulls. The ocean almost always meant the edge of the continent. Going farther would lead either into the territory of a mysterious force, to an isolated island, or to another continent.
What could happen in ten years?
One could win a war against Japan, raise up a new powerful nation, transition from the age of explosives to the age of nuclear weapons, or go from proposing a revolutionary technological concept to seeing it sweep across the globe... But to those lofty mystics who pursued eternity, ten years probably meant nothing. It might even be no more than the time consumed by a study, a research project, or an experiment.
From this perspective, mystics seemed to be nearing extinction. History had always proved that slow-paced things would eventually be replaced by fast-paced things. Even if they did not disappear, they would lose their position as the protagonists of the age.
Mystical civilization... should be an exception, right?
An Yang thought this as he looked around. The geography here was extremely strange, even somewhat contrary to common sense.
He stood on a small hill, no different from the low hills beside the sea in the real world. It was low and gently sloping, covered in dense tropical plants. It clearly possessed a rich variety of flora and fauna, and he could even hear monkeys. Warm sea wind blew against his face from ahead. There was no doubt that it was the