The spiritual energy was exhausted, the laws collapsed, and the once prosperous age of cultivating immortals turned into a scattered legend. The stars dimmed, the secret realm decayed, and the immortals exhausted their origins and turned into dust over the long years. This is the age of the Dharma End, an era where even despair seems a luxury.
In this forgotten wasteland, Mo Chen walked alone. His robes were no different from those of ordinary scavengers, stained with the same dust, but his eyes were as deep as ancient wells, reflecting no trace of the doomsday scene. Immortals and demons lurked under his feet, and the ruins fell silent behind him. No one knew where he came from or where he was going, only that the places he passed through would make even the most ferocious beasts hold their breath. When the last "Guide" organization struggled to pursue the ancient relics and tried to ignite the embers of civilization, Mo Chen just looked calmly at the bloody sunset that never sets. There was a glimmer of light on his fingertips, like a spark, but also like the end.
The embers of the past have not yet cooled down, and the new era is already quietly stirring in the ashes. And he was the only soul awake among the embers.
