Whistling in the Wind
After adjusting his shirt's cuffs, the black figure cast its gaze at the gap that emitted sunlight as if it were taking note of the time.
Suddenly, it saw a pair of eyes there—dark-brown eyes.
The next second, the eyes' owner passed through the wall and glass before bizarrely entering the chamber.
He was less than 1.8 meters tall with long black hair, and had his body draped in a loose black robe. He was in his forties, and he had a very elegant beard around his mouth. He was Du Heng, who called himself an antiquarian.
"You…" The white-haired elder and the gigantic black figure behind him spoke at the same time.
Du Heng bent his back slightly, coughed, and smiled in response. "Although I've forgotten many things, I vaguely remember that my responsibility is to stop you guys from coming to the Ashlands and send those who are already here back…"