Decay!
Decay!
Still more decay!
Everywhere he looked, his childhood sweethearts had rotted away, becoming skeletons riddled with holes.
The new temple master was composed of broken bones and ghostlike things.
Everyone simply stood there, stood there silently.
Yet no matter where these people stood, no matter which direction they faced.
At this very moment, all their gazes were eerily fixed on Wang Quan-or rather, True Lord Heart-Knower Wang Ming inside the confinement room.
Wang Quan wanted to look at True Lord Heart-Knower Wang Ming.
Yet every time he wanted to take a look, an unprecedented, overwhelming terror rose in his heart.
He dared not look, so he could only turn his head and look elsewhere.
He saw that the surrounding buildings seemed to have faded, turning into a black-and-white ink painting.
In this form, everything seemed to have been dead for thousands, tens of thousands of years.
The houses had collapsed into ruins.
Within the ruins stood skeletal beings and ghostly beings.
He even saw that the two stone lions at the entrance had decayed.
Grains of black sand fell from the stone lions.
Wang Quan lowered his head and saw that the earth had rotted, riddled with wounds and holes.
Through the rotted holes, he saw what lay below had turned to black sand, and saw countless ghosts.
Their faces hideous, these ghosts stretched both arms toward the sky, crying out soundlessly.
Wang Quan looked up at the sky. It was deathly pale and covered in cracks, which dripped rotten, foul-smelling black blood.
The sun in the sky had died too, giving off an aura of decay and despair.
This world held no trace of life.
Wang Quan murmured involuntarily, "Is this the true Historical Fragment?"
"What we call history is actually already dead?"
What was even more