Zhao Huai stood atop the Xia's Imperial City, gazing down at the crowd that seemed as small as ants, the bustling Wei River flowing through the city, and the flower boats anchored under the bridge, lost in thought.
In just one year, many things could change.
After several years in seclusion, he wondered what the current situation was like.
He slowly descended, his demeanor extraordinary.
It drew the attention of many pedestrians on the street.
"What year is it now?"
Zhao Huai approached a street vendor and asked intently.
Seeing his attire and arrival by flight, the vendor realized that he must be a powerful cultivator and didn't dare to neglect, responding nervously:
"It's the Seventh Year of the Longxing Period."
"Longxing Seventh Year..." Zhao Huai murmured softly, then pondered, "When I went into seclusion, it was the Second Year of Longxing Period, which means I was in seclusion for five years, but only one year has passed outside the small world."