She leaned against the window of the plane, looked at the vast sea of clouds under the plane, and said softly, "Meisha... I'm from Zhangshu City, Jiangxi Province, gezaoshan.

Wan Zhenyuan, with his hands on his back, stood in front of the cold gate of dawanshou Chongzhen palace, silently looking at the gate and memorial archway full of weeds on the left and right.

He stretched out his hand and stroked the board engraved with words at the door. As soon as he touched his hand, a layer of paint fell off, revealing the cracked and dry wood board inside, revealing a sense of vicissitudes and desolation.

Wan Zhenyuan stared at the board with complex eyes, his fingers gently whirling the cracks on it, and said nothing.

Yu Youtian looked at him and asked cautiously, "Lord Wan, I thought your waidan sect was rich and powerful, and Zuting must have strong incense, but now I didn't expect..." his next words were afraid to go on.