Chang'an City.
Towering buildings stood in rows, traffic streamed endlessly, and the streets were filled with fashionably dressed men and women.
By the ancient city wall, crowds came and went. Laughter, car horns, and music mingled together, forming the vibrant bustle of mortal life.
Near the ancient buildings, quite a few young men and women in Hanfu held up their phones to take pictures and check in, their robes fluttering in the breeze.
Huang Bai, dressed in a Daoist robe, walked among the crowd without standing out too much.
The scents of all kinds of street food drifted from the shops lining the road.
Huang Bai's steps paused slightly.
"It's really been a long time since I've eaten anything decent."
Over the past decade or so, what he ate had indeed become less and less like normal food.
It was either pills or spring water. He had nearly forgotten what ordinary mortal food tasted like.
Standing before a stall and looking at the snacks sizzling in oil, Huang Bai felt his appetite stir for once.
The next moment, his expression stiffened slightly.
"...I have no money."
It had been far too long since he had actually carried money on him.
Whenever he had lacked money in the past, whether in Hong Kong or other worlds, he could always find a way to get some from casinos or banks and use it as needed.
Now that he had only just returned to reality and had only one day, there was clearly no time to make another trip to Macau.
Standing by the roadside, Huang Bai revealed a rare trace of helplessness.
Just then, mournful music drifted from the mouth of a nearby alley.
He turned to look and saw a ragged beggar sitting in a homemade wooden wheelchair. The man's expression