Luo Qiuhong's account stirred a certain nerve in Han Zhan's mind.
A thought appeared uncontrollably in his mind.
If Luo Qiuhong, as a Transmigrator, was arranged by fate with a trajectory, living like a marionette.
Then is it possible that he is the same?!
Upon thinking of this,
he released his grip on the teacup, lowered his head like Luo Qiuhong, and looked at his palm and wrist.
As if there was an invisible string there, tightly entwining him.
The name of that string—Fate.
...
World Tree, Blue Star Fruit World.
Shen Zheqi was leading a group of people exploring in the desert.
All around them were many large silver-gray devices, like mechanical Xuanwu, lying in the endless desert.
The mechanical accretion disks on their bellies were devouring the yellow sand in large gulps.
An expanse of billions of hectares of yellow sand was visibly decreasing under the voracious devouring of many mechanical Xuanwu.
