"Beep... buzz!"
A dirty, old motorcycle stopped to An Yang's right, and the man riding it leaned on the horn and stared at him.
An Yang quickly stepped aside to avoid him.
Only then did the man drive the motorcycle slowly forward.
"Beep... buzz!"
The sound of the motorcycle's horn still echoed in his ears, not just from behind, but coming from all directions.
An Yang pressed his lips together and walked forward slowly.
The streets of the old city of Kathmandu were extremely chaotic and utterly devoid of planning. Not only was the crowd surging, but everywhere people in dusty civilian clothes rode motorcycles, mingling with the dense throng of pedestrians. Moving and stopping, they made traffic exceptionally congested.
Merchants on both sides of the street ran shops that looked like rural storefronts. Bearded men called out in Nepali to hawk their goods, and the roadside electrical wiring was left completely unorganized, giving the impression that time had flowed backward by several decades.
Yet, as a world-renowned tourist destination, Kathmandu condensed the greater part of its culture and beliefs from the Shah dynasty onward, naturally possessing a unique attraction.
At the very least, the religious atmosphere here was extremely thick.
From what An Yang could see, all around him were buildings combining both Hindu and Buddhist styles. Practitioners wearing red robes walked the streets, while along the roadside sat elderly men wrapped entirely in red cloth, surviving on food offerings from pious believers. A single breath filled one's lungs with the heavy scent of incense.
Legend had it that mages led by the Sorcerer Supreme, Master Gu Yi, had been quietly guarding this world all along, differing only in their division of labor from the Avengers—the Avengers kept this world safe from tangible harms, while the mages ensured that