The Ying River was a long waterway born from the Purity Forest, nourishing the territory.
Its gentle, clear waters flowed ceaselessly. At night, it would shimmer with a fluorescent glow, like a tangible silver ribbon, achingly beautiful—hence its name.
But now, this river, held so dear by the Qinghui People, was no longer as clear and pure as it once was. The fluorescent glow on its surface had dimmed considerably, and murky, dark brown stains drifted upon the Ying River.
Every time Roy saw the filth in the Ying River, he felt a pain like a knife to the heart.
It was as if the inviolable goddess in his heart had been brutally defiled by filthy, vulgar thugs. The piercing, bitter anguish was indescribable.
'Damn it, how did the Qinghui Territory turn into this mess!'
The elegant man standing by the river sighed again and again. His mid-length, light purple hair was tied into a ponytail. Though no longer young, his gentle and handsome profile seemed to have frozen in time.
