Forging the Most Powerful Great Wing

At the end of the first year of the Parting Summer Calendar, snow fell upon the human imperial capital.

But in the Seven Blood Eyes, winter always seemed to arrive late, with rain being more prevalent throughout the year.

It was the same even at the end of the year.

The curtain of rain enveloped the ports, and the hurrying pedestrians and boats coming and going outlined a beautiful canvas.

The sound of the rain falling on the oil-paper umbrellas and dripping down was delicate and gentle, like the sound of nature, gently brushing past one's heartstrings.

It was as if the sky was professing its deep love for the earth and the clouds were expressing their endless affection for all beings.

Amid this rhythm and melody, Xu Qing walked through the rain and arrived at Port 176, which belonged to him. In a large warehouse area, he saw Zhang San squatting under the eaves, smoking a pipe like an old farmer.