Chang'an City.
After the catastrophe of recent days, the walls of this Great Tang capital had been left riddled with holes and scars.
Charred bricks and dried blood were mixed together, yet the city showed none of the lifeless decay of defeat.
Carriages and horses rolled endlessly along the long streets.
Countless ordinary citizens and martial artists shouted work chants as they hauled cartloads of blue bricks to every corner of the city.
Beams were being raised anew in ruined houses, and even the taverns by the roadside had already hung their signs back up.
Three figures moved silently with the crowd along the broad bluestone road.
Wu Shisan was still as disheveled as ever.
His Daoist robe was worn and ragged, his three thousand strands of white hair hanging loose.
He ambled along, lazily fanning himself with a battered palm-leaf fan.
Wang Ziyu followed silently behind his master, occasionally surveying the surroundings.
Bringing up the rear was a burly man draped in an oversized gray robe.
The robe concealed his abnormally pallid skin and long nose.
White Elephant kept his head slightly lowered. His gaze swept through the surrounding crowd from beneath the shadow of his hood, and his brow gradually furrowed.
Too weak.
The living beings in this city were simply far too weak.
Let alone the Chessmaster Realm.
There was not even a single person in the Tower-Climbing Realm.
In this present age where demons danced in wild disorder, such a city was no different from one made of paper.
Yet it was precisely such a city...
White Elephant raised his head and looked toward the horizon.
High overhead, several terrifying streaks of escaping light could vaguely be seen tearing through the clouds.
Yet without exception, those streaks of light—
Would abruptly change direction while still a