Within the Seven Illusionary Array.
Fang Qiong stepped into a patch of shadowy ruins.
Torrential rain crashed down, and only when lightning cut through the sky did this heavy and somber world gain the faintest hint of color.
Towering remnants of buildings, shattered windows, and collapsed corners—all marked by the passage of time, ruthlessly displaying the massacre that annihilated his clan.
As Fang Qiong walked among the wreckage, broken furniture lay strewn across the floor, caked with dust and decay.
One extinguished candle after another, torn portraits, and in the corners, dried-black bloodstains and scorch marks—all silently spoke to Fang Qiong of the agonizing cost of seeking power and vengeance.
He stepped into the corridor, where a chill wind drifted, carrying a grave coldness, as if it were the call and wails of lost souls.
