At a place even farther away from the Capital, there was a white coloured barren plain. Within the centre of this barren plain, there is a city built from stone, its walls encircled tens of kilometres, looking extremely grand.
Several million people knelt upon the barren plains that were outside of the stone city.
Their knees and foreheads, having been in contact for a long time with the scalding hot sand that had been heated by the nine suns, gave off the faint smell of burning, but no signs of pain could be seen upon their faces, only an absolute tranquillity. Neither did they let out any sounds, there was only an absolute silence, akin to a peaceful yet terrifying sea; a sea of people.
At the fore of this congregation was a platform constructed from wood, the wooden platform still had countless green leaves around its edges, making a clear contrast from the barren, simple and blistering surroundings.
Within the centre of the platform there was a symbol shaped like the character “zheng” erected, conveying a strongly religious feeling.
Following the prayers of several million believers, the symbol was currently emanating a faint Holy Radiance.
A middle-aged man stood in front of the religious symbol, quietly watching the millions of people that were knelt before him.
From the look of this man’s clothing, he should be a religious monk.
With his age, faint wrinkles could be seen on the edge of his eyes, but this did nothing to detract from his perfect features. The most captivating feature was his eyes, those calm and peaceful eyes contained boundless compassion and love, as if they could gaze upon places infinitely distant; gaze upon everything.
He raised the Blessed Rod within his hand, using a faintly smiling visage to face this wicked world.
The millions of people upon the white, barren plains stood up, annunciating to the hills and valleys:
“None care not for their homeland.”
…..
It was early Spring in the Capital, yet it still remained bitingly cold. Old Snow City’s early Spring was unrelentingly cold and harsh; blizzards fell like a sobbing grievance upon the city’s streets and alleys, chafing across as if it were a sandstorm, making it hard to open one’s eyes.
The demon race enjoyed the night and tranquillity, enjoyed blood and slaughter, with the latter being to their core; therefore, within the secretive dwellings of the demon race’s royalty or artists, there would inexorably be paintings that had vivid colours or strange outlines.
Yet, the colour hue for Old Snow City was a drab grey, causing people to feel tranquil, or perhaps even a little numb. The city’s populace enjoyed wearing black robes and from afar, it was difficult to make out as to who was who.
A demon dressed in a black robe walked within the blizzard; the black robe he wore was rather plain and a little old, with its hem showing some tears, but at the very least, this black robe was slightly different from others.
The black robe flitted in and out of view within the furious blizzard, even if one was to stare intently, it would be hard to confirm its position, this lasted until he exited Old Snow City, standing at the glacier on the Southern side.
A chill wind blasted through, lifting the brim of his hat and revealing the side of his face. That face was abnormally pale; as if it hadn’t come into contact with the sun for many years; as if he had just recently suffered a serious illness; as if it lacked any warmth at all; even more so, as if it was completely devoid of life, carrying with it a sense of death that could cause palpitations.
That demon gazed towards the South, the direction of the Capital, and remained silent for a long while. His lips then curled and his detached voice bore an uncontrollable sense of elation: “You finally cannot continue to ignore his existence.”