To the east of the continent of Tunkamyria lay a very deep, long chasm, which from afar looked like a long scar carved into the surface of this vast continent. This deep, wide chasm was known as the Soul Burial Ground, for legend had it that anyone who stumbled into this place would be forever trapped, their souls cast aside by the gods and imprisoned within this endless abyss. However, in the eyes of some learned scholars and wise sages, this was Táng Long Valley.
Legend said that before their deaths, all dragons would fly into this bottomless abyss, quietly lying there to await their demise.
No one knew why, not even the mages of the Sacred Grove. This mysterious Dragon's Tomb both terrified people and attracted adventurers with daring spirits. The sun cast its scorching light upon the eastern lands of the Tamisey Desert in the Devimon Empire.
This desolate desert didn't even have a single blade of grass.
The days were terribly hot, and the nights were bone-chillingly cold.
This desert was the northern entrance to the Dragon's Tomb.
Thiết Niên stood before the entrance of the valley, his back to the deep gorge, as if he had just emerged from it. The youth was very thin, half his face obscured by the drooping brim of a tattered, grey grand mage's hat. Not far away, a massive rock stood. The youth leaned against it, opened his pack, took out some hardtack and water, and ate while gazing at the desolate stretch of desert. Actually, the desert wasn't entirely devoid of life; a vulture had appeared in the sky at some unknown point. It circled overhead, seemingly having spotted the rare visitor in the desert. It swooped down, heading straight for the skinny youth. The youth remained still. He watched the bird, and the vulture watched him back. After a long moment, it finally couldn't resist and pecked at the dried meat in the youth's hand. He still didn't move, watching the vulture eat the meat from his hand. Only after it had finished and flown out of sight did he rest his head on his pack and fall asleep. The youth slept until dusk. He lifted his head, and the large mage's hat tilted slightly, revealing Thiết Niên's face. A melon-seed shaped face, jet-black eyes, and a few strands of silver-white hair fanned out from beneath the brim. Thiết Niên pulled out a yellowed map, spread it on the ground, and examined it carefully. There were already a few red ink marks on the map. The youth's finger moved until it touched a place called Debiles. Debiles, the capital of the Devimon Empire. The corner of the youth's mouth curved upwards, and he softly said, "Let's go." No sooner had he spoken than a colossal shadow appeared on the ground, as if a monster was flapping its wings in the air. The youth leaped up, and both he and the shadow swiftly vanished into the distance.