Twilight.
The outer district of Pengcheng gradually sank into boundless darkness, as if a dark veil had been drawn over it.
Yet in this darkness, Pingkang Square was brightly lit, Lichun House shining the most brilliantly of all.
Hong Yuan arrived at Pingkang Square, his gaze sweeping over the pedestrians on the spacious street, especially the young masters of noble families descending from luxurious carriages.
The pedestrians were all clad in fine, radiant attire, their fabrics exquisite.
The young masters from prominent families were even more extravagantly dressed, adorned with brocade, wearing caps decorated with crest treasures, and white jade rings at their waists—the epitome of luxury.
Some die of drought, others of flood. No matter where one is, everyone's fate is different. The world has changed, yet it hasn't, Hong Yuan muttered to himself.
Glancing at his own attire, a smile touched Hong Yuan's lips.
