Wen Zhixing felt it was acceptable, so he clasped his fist in a salute.
"Let's go, we'll enter together."
Murong Fenghua looked up at the city gates ahead. The dilapidation here caused her heart to sink once more.
The two of them, one after the other, took to the sky and flew toward the city.
Just as they had observed from a distance, there were hardly any residents in this city. Those who were there seemed very down and out.
Murong Fenghua's expression grew worse the more she looked. She had already realized that these people were not disciples of the Hundred Tribulations Holy Land. The cultivation of the Holy Land's disciples was never this poor.
After some time, the two made their way directly in front of a mansion.
Murong Fenghua had thought that her own residence might have also become run-down. But at first glance, it was obviously still in decent condition, only showing some signs of wear from the weather over time.
