The desolate and ruined Holy Hall.
A middle-aged man with a scraggly beard sat here in solitude.
His hands and feet were shackled, the chains piercing through his clavicles.
On his back, he bore a heavy ancient stele, inscribed with the writings left by the Overlord Body.
This scene appeared somewhat desolate, somewhat lonely, and made one's heart feel a bit sour.
If not for witnessing it with his own eyes, Jun Xiaoyao would never have believed that the person before him was a Desolate Ancient Sacred Body.
Yet the kind of resonance that arose from his bloodline assured Jun Xiaoyao beyond a doubt.
This person was indeed a Desolate Ancient Sacred Body.
He was a middle-aged man, with ordinary features, wearing slightly old-fashioned gray cloth garments, with a scraggly beard, and cloudy eyes, his black hair in disarray.
He looked just like a down-and-out middle-aged man drowning his sorrows at the edge of a market.
No one would think that he was a Desolate Ancient Sacred Body.
