"Ten thousand years is indeed too long."
Lu Qingshan heard a familiar deep voice by his ear.
The colored clouds dispersed, revealing a Confucian scholar in a green robe, with sleeves fluttering.
He came from beyond the heavens, once supported the collapsing sky, and once entered the abyss alone, single-handedly achieving the current Human Race.
Luohu also saw the Confucian scholar, and his expression slightly changed, showing a hint of panic.
Lu Qingshan's voice was hoarse, his nose tingling, "Ancestral Patriarch Xia."
"This journey to the mortal world, whether it's a dream of yellow millet or as I have heard, I pay it no mind." The scholar glanced at Lu Qingshan with meaningful eyes.
He raised his arm, using his fingers as a pen, gently outlining, "It is time to return, leaving one more stroke, not having traveled in vain on this carefree journey."
He wrote ten large characters in the sky.
"Who awakens from the grand dream first?"
"Throughout my life, I know myself."
