Thus, as he felt the clamor of the world and wandered along, Zhao Cheng simply merged into the sea of people.
He had no destination in mind, merely following his instincts.
In this era, unless it was a matter of special hobby, hardly anyone set up street stalls. After all, if not for making a living, how many people would be willing to run themselves ragged?
Thus, the various stalls in the square were mostly operated by bionic humans, selling all manner of strange and exotic things—food, toys, everything one could want.
Around the square stood many small shops, most of them run by True Persons.
Zhao Cheng himself had once spent a long stretch of time thinking that, when he grew old, he would open a bookstore.
Whether it turned a profit or not did not matter. It would be purely for the love of it.
But fate was strange. First he had transmigrated, then he had become the Savior. And the path his life had taken was not the least bit like a light novel—there had been no urban campus romance plot whatsoever, only fighting and killing all the way. By now, he had even fought Eternal Ones who could create countless space-time universes with a single thought.
That old dream had long since ceased to exist.
Yet it was precisely because he had borne the burden and pressed forward that so many people could now live in peaceful years, easily becoming the people they wished to be.
For the next several hundred days, Zhao Cheng traveled through the Cosmic Federation. The Cosmic Federation was vast, and he did not move quickly. He simply strolled like an ordinary person, weaving through crowds, rarely lingering in any one place.
Yet after walking a stretch through each city, he would