Chapter 60

The State of Zhao, separated by the天河海 (Tianhe Sea), perhaps once part of the vast Southern Land, is located on its southern side, connected to the Western Continent.

To be precise, it is on the edge of the Southern Region. Although it is not close to the sea, after crossing countless mountains, one can still see the vast Tianhe Sea.

The State of Zhao is not large, and its population is not numerous, but the capital is still a scene of prosperity. Despite the snowflakes floating in the city after dusk, the lights in every household still bring warmth to those with homes.

As for those without homes, perhaps walking in the snowy night, they might feel an indescribable loneliness.

Meng Hao walked down the street, the sky already dark. The bustling crowds of the daytime were now few and far between, most people wearing straw hats, heads down, hurrying past.

Looking up, one could vaguely see a very prominent building in the capital of Zhao, a tower, but its name is a pavilion.

Tang Pavilion.

Standing tall at a hundred zhang, though not as high as a mountain, it stands out prominently in the capital of Zhao, especially noticeable. The wind and snow blurred its silhouette, but they could not erase the thoughts and efforts of the Zhao ruler, scholars, and many others who built this Tang Pavilion.

Looking eastward to the Eastern Land, looking outward to the Tang Dynasty, gazing at Chang'an.

Meng Hao had never been to this capital, and he had never seen this Tang Pavilion. But as he walked down the street, the moment he saw the tower, he knew... this was the Tang Pavilion.

It was his former ideal, to one day, as a civil official, step onto this Tang Pavilion and gaze at the distant world.

Meng Hao silently watched the Tang Pavilion in the wind and snow for a long time, a very long time.

"Before my parents disappeared, there was a purple wind outside. Outsiders called it an auspicious sign, saying they saw deities in the sky..." Meng Hao moved forward, gazing at the Tang Pavilion, muttering to himself.

Meng Hao was silent. He would never forget everything that happened on that night many years ago. From that day on, his childhood was gone, and his personality changed from being dependent on his parents to becoming strong.

From that day on, Meng Hao had a dream: to go to the Eastern Land, to go to the Tang Dynasty!

Outsiders said his parents had passed away, but Meng Hao knew they were just missing, that they were still alive. Meng Hao would never forget that night, when his father, dressed in a purple robe, stood by the window, looking at the purple wind outside, and the look of reluctance in his eyes when he turned to look at him.

He would also never forget the sound of his mother's low sobs that night.

These things, he never told anyone, only kept them in his heart.

As Meng Hao looked at the Tang Pavilion, which was getting closer, he wondered why so many memories flooded his mind. He sighed lightly, and his sigh was torn apart by the wind and snow, unable to spread beyond the capital, beyond Zhao, beyond the Southern Region, unable to cross the Tianhe Sea, and unable to reach Chang'an in the Eastern Land.

"Perhaps it's because I heard about the Tang Dynasty from my mother when I was young, and she told me that in the capital of every country in the world, there is a Tang Pavilion, which is considered the place closest to Chang'an outside the Eastern Land." Meng Hao whispered softly, approaching the area of the Tang Pavilion and looking up.

The wind and snow were heavy, the wailing of the wind spreading everywhere, carrying snowflakes that seemed to constantly collide with the Tang Pavilion. From here, the building was meticulously constructed, with an octagonal base, standing like a pagoda.

Its entire body was green, as one might imagine the Tang Dynasty to be, perhaps it should be this color.

Despite the snowy night, there were still soldiers of Zhao patrolling outside the Tang Pavilion. Only those with achievements and those in power could enter after worshipping heaven and earth.

But this was for ordinary people. Meng Hao walked past without being noticed by any soldiers, and entered the Tang Pavilion.

An old staircase wound around the inside of the Tang Pavilion, leading straight to the top. There were many colorful murals on the walls, depicting the Eastern Land, the Tang Dynasty, and Chang'an.

"I still remember what my mother told me about the Eastern Land and the Tang Dynasty. I was young then and didn't understand, but now, recalling it, the Eastern Land, Chang'an, and the Tang Dynasty that my mother described, if not seen with my own eyes, would be hard to describe in such detail.

Unlike the Tang Pavilion murals." Meng Hao looked at the murals as he climbed the stairs, all the way to the top of the Tang Pavilion, where the murals ended. There were depictions of customs, mountains, and beautiful legends, making one yearn for the outside world.

At the top of the Tang Pavilion, the wind and snow howled outside, the wind was stronger, and the snow was thicker. Meng Hao stood there, took a deep breath, and gazed into the distance, but all he could see was snow, not the Eastern Land, not the Tang Dynasty, not... Chang'an.

"Turns out, you can't see Chang'an from here."

Meng Hao whispered softly, standing there silently for a long time, his thoughts fluctuating. At this moment, he was not a civil official, he had not worshipped heaven and earth, he was a cultivator, a cultivator at the eighth level of Qi Condensation.

"The path I have taken is different, but the direction remains unchanged..." The wind blew, scattering his long hair. Snow came, surrounding him without melting, as if recognizing Meng Hao's life, like the snow.

After a long time, Meng Hao closed his eyes, sat cross-legged on the Tang Pavilion, and meditated quietly.

In the dead of night, the wind and snow grew stronger, and most of the lights in the city were extinguished. From the Tang Pavilion, the entire city was dark and quiet. In this darkness and silence, the eyes of Meng Hao, which were closed, recalled the warmth of the snowy night in Yunjie County many years ago.

After a long time, a night of wind and snow passed.

In the morning, Meng Hao opened his eyes, unsure whether he saw the first rays of the sun or the sun saw him first.

With the arrival of morning, the city gradually became lively, the streets bustling. The mundane world slowly unfolded before Meng Hao.

Meng Hao watched silently, from night to morning, one day, two days, three days.

Over seven days, as Meng Hao watched silently, the light in his eyes gradually grew from weak to bright, and then to calm.

Like the changes in his thoughts, like a profound realization in life, on the eighth morning, Meng Hao saw the soldiers below the Tang Pavilion bowing, a middle-aged man in imperial robes, surrounded by a group of people, worshipping heaven and earth outside the Tang Pavilion. Many civilians followed, bowing together.

Meng Hao stood up, and as they bowed, he took a step towards the sky, avoiding the bow, walked out of the Tang Pavilion, and was carried forward by a precious fan. He knew it was time to leave and wanted to look back at the Tang Pavilion one last time.

But the moment he turned back, Meng Hao's eyes suddenly narrowed.

He saw that as the people outside the Tang Pavilion bowed, the Tang Pavilion emitted a gentle light, radiating a light that only those with spiritual energy could notice.

This light shot into the sky, causing the clouds to roll, and a huge vortex seemed to appear, invisible to ordinary people. But in Meng Hao's eyes, the vortex was very clear, making him gasp and his expression change in shock.

Because he clearly saw that within the vortex, there was a vast expanse of ruins and bones, shrouded in black mist, indistinct but exuding an indescribable mystery and gloom.

Meng Hao's heart was shaken. He also saw within the black mist of the vortex, what seemed to be a huge coffin. At this moment, in the endless ruins within the vortex, a withered skeleton sitting beside the coffin suddenly opened its eyes. The gray pupils had seven star-like light points, though dim, making the gaze seem to pierce through the vortex and look at Meng Hao.

In that instant, Meng Hao's heart thundered, his eyes unable to close, and a sharp pain in his eyes, as if the seven star-like light points were about to appear in his pupils.

His body also showed signs of withering, and black mist began to emanate from his pores.

In shock, Meng Hao quickly retreated. At the same time, the vortex was quickly swallowed by the clouds, the pressure around Meng Hao dissipated, and everything returned to normal, as if the previous scene was an illusion.

But the withering of his body, though no longer continuing, still emitted a faint aura of death. Meng Hao's expression changed repeatedly, and as he looked down at the ground, the light from the Tang Pavilion had faded, but the worship of the people continued. Meng Hao's face was dark, and without hesitation, he activated the precious fan, transforming into a long rainbow and quickly leaving.

Until he slid out of the capital of Zhao, Meng Hao looked back at the direction of the Tang Pavilion, then at the sky, and a strong sense of doubt arose in his heart.

"That couldn't have been an illusion. What exactly is the Tang Pavilion? I thought it was just a mundane object, but now it's clearly not!"

"And the world within the vortex, what place is it... a vast expanse of ruins, shrouded in death, and countless bones..." Meng Hao felt a chill, thinking of the skeleton that opened its eyes and looked at him in the ruins.

The gaze of the skeleton was cold and gloomy, especially the seven star-like light points in the gray pupils, which made Meng Hao feel a chill and break out in a cold sweat even now.

"And that... coffin." Meng Hao took a deep breath, his expression filled with reverence.

"Who is buried inside, and why did it appear in that mysterious place within the vortex? Why... is it connected to the Tang Pavilion? Is there a connection with the Eastern Land and the Tang Dynasty?" Meng Hao was silent, his gaze on the Tang Pavilion filled with more reverence. He took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't stay for long, and quickly left after landing.

He vaguely felt that being seen by the skeleton in the vortex was a disaster...

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