The night was like thick ink, pouring heavily down, wrapping the ruins of Changsheng Castle tightly in silence.
The moonlight like mercury flowed freely, outlining a scene of desolation and loneliness on the charred beams and scattered bricks. Those ruins, like silent sentinels, stood quietly, telling tales of past prosperity and present desolation.
After bidding farewell to Lin Wanqing, Shi Feiyang, with a posture as upright as a pine, strode out of the tent with firm and powerful steps. Each step he took seemed to break the boundless silence, carrying an innate dominance and determination.
Gong Simeng followed silently behind him, their shadows elongated by the moonlight.
One was resolute and fearless, exuding a reassuring strength; the other appeared slightly hesitant, with eyes full of complex emotions. They seemed like two stars of completely different brightness, particularly conspicuous against the dim backdrop of the ruins.
