Burning Phoenix Ridge.
Outside a massive crimson palace in the center of the mountain ridge, three people walked side by side as they arrived at the entrance. Their eyes fell on the patterns of the burning phoenixes etched into the exterior of the palace, especially the mold of the wings and the burning crown. Whenever their eyes fell on it, reverence swelled in the hearts along with the eager feeling of wanting to meet the person who ruled this massive crimson palace.
However, it wasn't the same for one man out of the three because he didn't belong to the Burning Phoenix Ridge.
Thick black hair fell to his waist, dazzlingly flowing in the air. He had his hands back, his eyes closed, but the air surrounding him told the people around him that there wasn't any opening around him. He exuded an expert's demeanor as he simply followed the two in the front while floating, not having a smile nor possessing coldness in his expression.