Even without a sky, gentle light, a substitute for the sun, still sprinkled its pure radiance. On the bustling streets, waves of enthusiastic travelers wove through the crowds, discussing where to head next. At this moment, they too were stunned by the sight, turning around in astonishment. Then, by the exit, they saw it: a grand carriage, almost excessively ostentatious.
Pulled by four teams of strong, large black steeds, the mere presence of the jet-black carriage seemed to exert an invisible gravity, drawing everyone's gaze to its exquisite and luxurious design, making them appreciate its solemn dignity. In front of the carriage, an old man with an upright frame, dressed in formal attire and holding an ivory-white walking stick, looked up into the depths of the station. His green eyes, sharp as a hawk's, swept across the travelers' faces one by one before suddenly lighting up as he rushed over, taking great strides.
