As the sun rose from the horizon, a brilliant ray of golden glow streaked across the vast land, illuminating Han Li, who was sitting cross-legged below a pine tree on the top of a mountain.
After a while, Han Li opened his eyes and released the impure air in his thoracic cavity. A sword-shaped trace of white air whizzed through the air, vaguely giving off the sound of a sword chime. He stood up and bathed his body in the sunlight. He could feel a tinge of warmth in the crisp and cold air.
He had a panoramic view of Skyheart City, which was situated at the foot of the mountain. The faint mist around the city had yet to disappear, resembling a layer of muslin.
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