ugees to set foot on the long northward journey. The ancient commercial road buried in weeds stretches to the end of the mist. Every step forward is a heavy responsibility inherited from the martyrs, and also an unshirkable fate.
Oversea, Eurya lost most of her soul consciousness under the erosion of the Ram sword. She wanders aimlessly in the wild field, surrounded by thick black evil spirit. The darkness erodes all vitality wherever it passes. She can no longer distinguish between memory and reality, nor can she recognize the enemies and acquaintances in the world. She only relies on the primitive instinct of the ancient sword to drift in this vast world.
The catastrophe bred by three hundred years of conspiracy never comes in a vigorous and earth-shattering way. It spreads quietly along the context of fate, permeating every corner of Betara. The dormant forces in the demon abyss, the tightly arranged imperial forces in the palace, the dark believers lurking in the moun
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