Every Mid-Autumn, there is always a misty rain.
After the grand ceremony of the Divine Dynasty, sweet dew descends from the heavens, seemingly washing away the sorrow of this world.
Zhang Kui stood with his hands behind his back before the observation platform of the Central Extreme Hall, gazing at the city below the mountain, where brick walls and gray tiles stretched on, and pavilions and towers stood in great numbers, with strands of Spiritual Qi faintly rising amidst the misty rain.
The Divine Dynasty was established amidst chaos, gathering the collective strength of the Divine Continent, and in a short time, it already appeared prosperous, with joyful laughter and sounds often coming from the bustling streets.
Such a splendid scene should be a cause for joy, yet there was a hint of concern in Zhang Kui's heart.
A voice came from within the Ancient Bronze Mirror, mentioning the "Immortal Dynasty," seemingly transmitted from the distant stars.
