The home planet of Qiu Langsha was overrun with yellow, withering weeds, and a suffocating blanket of yellow sand rolling in omnidirectionally.
Here, there was destruction everywhere - shattered walls, collapsed buildings, and pockmarked ground were all traces left by shellfire.
There were also bisected buildings, sliced cleanly as if someone had cleaved them open from top to bottom with a giant blade.
Signs of magic left by the monks appeared to outnumber the marks of bombardment, hinting at the overwhelming nature of the war.
This planet had become a dying star yet traces of human activity were still evident.
Not far from Jiang Li, a group of survivors trudged along. They were garbed in masks for protection, huffing and heaving as they combed through stores, supermarkets, and shopping centers in the search for food.
It had been a decade; apart from specially preserved rations, no other edible food could possibly exist.