Chapter Five Hundred and Twenty-Two: "Fundamentally, It's Not Your Fault.

...

In the largest stone building of the First Tribe, Fengchang ascended to the highest corridor.

He looked out to see an almost boundless sky shrouded in dark clouds, with not a sliver of clear sunlight in sight.

The thick and pungent poisonous rain fell, corroding the pitted ground.

During this calamity period, torrential poisonous rains poured down from the heavens, the searing liquid lashing against people's skin and corroding their bodies. Only makeshift shields or stone constructions could withstand the increasingly fierce poison rain.

He continued walking, pushing open the door to a spartan room where an old man covered in black lines lay on the bed.

Hearing the door open, the old man slightly turned his head, revealing a face tormented by pain, his eyes growing increasingly cloudy.

"Fengchang..." the elder rasped with a hoarse voice.

Fengchang's expression remained indifferent as he sat beside the bed.

"Has it come to this, Great Elder?" he asked.