Entering the Yulan Empire, which had endured for ten thousand years, Shiheng held Kelin Xiaoman's hand and strolled along a long street in the capital.
Beneath their feet were bluestone slabs worn smooth and lustrous by the years. Along both sides of the street, which stretched beyond sight, upturned eaves rose in overlapping tiers. The ancient buildings bore the weight of ages, their vermilion pillars, carved beams, and painted rafters exuding a grace and prosperity tempered by time. In the distance, towering palaces pierced the clouds, half hidden in pale, drifting mist, seeming to merge with heaven and earth and displaying the magnificent grandeur of the empire's ten-thousand-year heritage. Shops lined the street in dazzling variety, with spices, magic cores, and exquisite magical implements arranged throughout. Carriages, horses, and pedestrians moved in orderly streams, while vendors called their wares in gentle, unhurried voices. Even the air carried a sense of peace and tranquility far removed from war, without a trace of restlessness or hostility.
The noble youths passing by wore splendid brocade robes and smooth jade pendants at their waists. Their manners were refined, their conversation and laughter full of composure. The maids and servants accompanying them walked slowly with lowered heads and soft, gentle steps, not daring to disturb that leisure in the slightest. Time throughout the Yulan Empire's capital seemed to have been deliberately slowed, so relaxed it bordered on indolence, without the slightest tension or haste. Such a peaceful air could only have been nurtured by a prosperous nation with deep foundations and lasting stability.
This place was unlike the Radiant Church and the Shadow Alliance, which confronted each other year-round in ceaseless slaughter, their entire region shrouded in war and conspiracy and their people plunged into misery. Nor was it like the small kingdoms and petty