Ning City.
Between heaven and earth, the dust has yet to settle, the aftermath of the great battle still lingers over Ning City.
The battle has ended.
No cheers, no music, no celebration.
Only silence, heavily pressing down on the city that was once prosperous and flourishing.
The wind carries the remnants of smoke, whispering mournfully through the ruins, as if the murmurs of ten thousand departed souls.
Then, at that moment.
No surprises, no thunder, no winds, no waves.
Chen Sheng's figure slowly manifested from the void, at the very center of Ning City's ruins.
His posture like a divine mountain, towering and unshakable.
Clad in a Profound Daoist Robe, clean as if washed, unstained by dust, contrasting sharply with the desolation beneath his feet.
Beneath him lay charred beams, shattered bricks, congealed bloodstains, beside him were collapsed buildings, overturned temples, a broken world.
