"Can't you really remember what your relationship was with that old guy?" On the way to the Imperial Palace, Chen Qing couldn't help but secretly transmit his voice, "Could it be an old flame?"
"Since when did you become such a gossip?" Zi Yue replied coldly.
Yet her eyes were fixated on the surrounding walls of the palace.
It was all too familiar—the bricks and tiles were almost identical to her memories. But she had left Yundu ten thousand years ago, and the palace seemed very new, not aged at all. Could it be a replica of its former self, remade?
Zi Yue also couldn't remember what she did in this location of the Imperial Palace. Her memories of the Sorcerer Dynasty were all painful—various experiments, and countless torments inflicted on her body and spirit. Zi Yue couldn't recall how many poisons she had ingested since childhood or how many curses of the magicians she had suffered, or with how many objects she had been experimented upon.