In someone else's chess game, walk one's own path.
Jiang Wang stared fixedly ahead, amidst the countless figures charging forth, he captured the sight of Zhao Zi—
At this moment, Zhao Zi was sitting cross-legged, precisely in the Heavenly Origin position. She was the focal point of his gaze, as well as the center of the entire chess game world. Still donned in Confucian robes with tied hair, yet her body seemed draped in snow, as the "holder of the white pieces."
In front of her, a chessboard lay, seemingly shrouded in mist, revealing vaguely one or two frames.
What Jiang Wang exhausted his eyesight to see, was countless solid lines crisscrossing and extending into the distance, with black and white sides engaged in an endless clash. The white pieces occupied the vast majority of the chessboard's space, surrounding a lone small dragon of black pieces in the center. Though a solitary piece was a dragon, it was already locked in an eight-gate golden barrier.
