A High Platform Like a Sundial

Golden Cicada had lost count of how many times he had seen the same pair of footprints. It seemed that ever since he left the inn, he had come across a pair that tugged at his heart wherever he went.

As for why they tugged at his heart, he didn't know.

But that faint ache had been troubling him all along.

He had already traveled across too much of the Central Continent, yet the indistinct face in his mind had never grown any clearer.

He had thought about moving faster, to see if he could catch up with the person ahead.

But whenever the thought crossed his mind, his body would grow unbearably uncomfortable, as if it were trying to stop him.

For a brief moment, he would even feel as though he had lost control of his own body.

When he entered Yujin Prefecture, he found it just as desolate as before, with the people gone and the streets empty. Lost in thought, Golden Cicada headed in one direction.

In one of the cells in that dungeon, he saw the same pair of footprints again.

This time, a wave of sorrow surged through his heart like the tide. Golden Cicada even raised a hand and touched his cheek, almost stupidly.

Two clear trails of tears slid down it.

Was he crying?

Was a Dharma Idol like him actually crying?

It was utterly inconceivable. Golden Cicada stood frozen, dazed. He felt that something must be wrong with him.

Just as the tangled, blurry face in his mind seemed on the verge of coming together, a voice shattered the moment at the worst possible time.

"Golden Cicada, return!"

It was Di Liuxin's voice, and it was laced with anger.

He should have reached the battlefield where the Eastern and Western Territories