The moment Ye Qingxuan walked out of the underground palace, he almost suffocated.
In the chaotic streets, the crowds were screaming.
The sun alternated between strong and weak. Sometimes it even looked within reach. One side of Ye Qingxuan was dazzling and warm like he was walking under the sun, but the other side was so cold that his marrow was nearly frozen.
Under the sunlight, the shadows danced abnormally like living things.
The twilight sky became like a pot of boiling molten iron, spilling turbulently. Cracks appeared in ancient buildings, and the boom of something collapsing came from the depths of the earth.
The color of reality peeled off and faded under the erosion of the Aether waves. The steel city was gradually being corrupted into a magic world.