Divine Management Bureau, 88th floor.
Fang Qingyu looked at the scene before him, his eyes filled with shock.
The beige marble stretched from beneath his feet to the horizon of his view, with a gray-white pillar piercing the ceiling every ten steps, and between every two pillars, there were five rows of iron-black bookshelves.
The bookshelves stood as tall as six meters.
The tops almost touched the dome embedded with long skylights.
The air was tinged with the distinct bitter smell of old paper, mixed with the fragrance of moth-proof camphor wood.
"This...is a bit too much, isn't it?"
Looking at the countless bookshelves before him, Fang Qingyu was a bit surprised and somewhat incredulous.
"It's not much."
Duan Ling noticed, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
