The dark, damp rainforest rapidly receded.
A sunny warmth swept into Lin Feng's embrace.
Wangxiang Zai vanished.
Only Lin Feng remained.
He had yet to open his eyes.
But Lin Feng already felt certain that the scene awaiting him would be lively and bustling with Human Aura.
All kinds of sounds mingled.
There were the sounds of Palace Bells, mules and horses, and a great deal of chanting, rising and falling around him.
Lin Feng relaxed.
These sounds gave him a deep sense of security.
It was a little like napping on a sofa, falling asleep to the sound of the television.
"I'm listening."
Sounds like that.
They signaled that his surroundings were safe.
Lin Feng had moved from the gloomy primeval forest to the temple square, where Human Aura was at its peak.
His taut nerves loosened a little.
Opening his eyes, Lin Feng saw the "intact" Dora Mahā Temple.
It was resplendent in gold.
Its roof gleamed in the sunlight.
He could not tell whether it was gilded or covered entirely in glazed tiles.
Constant repairs had kept the whole of Dharma Mahā looking as good as new.
Vermilion gates, golden domes.
Judging by the angle of the sun.
It was probably morning.
Around eight or nine.
He stood on the main road, surrounded by a jostling crowd. A closer look revealed that their clothing had a distinctly foreign flair—the attire of Southeast Asian Nobility of that era.
No commoners passed among them.
He stood right before Dora Mahā Temple.
Even Lin Feng, a layman who had never studied architecture, could not help applauding in admiration.
What a beautiful temple.
Dharma Mahā was a living Historian.
Intact, Dharma Mahā was a magnificent sight.
Its very existence bore witness to the Historian—in Dharma Mahā, one could see traces of