In a dense forest thousands of kilometers away from Citong.
The night is dark, and the full moon gradually reveals a corner from the blue-black clouds.
Below is a dense dark forest.
In a cemetery within the forest, rows of tombstones stand slanted, having endured much wind, sun, and rain, many of them now showing signs of cracking.
Hiss.
A large, slightly dark hand holds a bouquet of pure white flowers, gently placing it in front of a bronze-colored tombstone.
The bouquet is swayed by the cool breeze in the forest, the petals slightly trembling, faintly releasing dew drops.
The person offering the flowers is a tall figure wrapped entirely in a large black cloak.
From the outline, it is clearly a male.
But because he wears a hood and mask, his face is completely obscured.
Only a pair of deep blue eyes deeply gaze at the name on the tombstone.
"Old friend... this world has truly deteriorated as you predicted." The man speaks in a low tone to the tombstone.
