A golden magical light flew across the mountain stream, sped through the valley, and swiftly passed over the vast State City, arriving instantly at a cliff.
Calling it a cliff seemed inaccurate.
From a bird's eye view, it looked more like a mountain had been forcibly split in two, with cliffside pavilions and towers intricately designed, as if suspended in the sky.
The light maintained its speed, heading straight for the right-side pavilion, where various peculiar structures stood below, surrounded by groups of people assembling a small boat about ten meters long.
In the largest courtyard of the right-side pavilion, Cousin's hair looked like a bird's nest on his head; his clothes were musty, his eyes, once vibrant, now seemed vacant, with more sunken eye sockets, and his complexion was sallow and dull.
He appeared utterly exhausted.
