The night was steeped in darkness, with a cold wind howling.
The last snow of late winter drifted down, delicate flakes tumbling and swirling from the leaden clouds dyed ink-black by the night.
It densely covered the sky above the Divine Capital Nine Cities.
It fell upon the bricks, walls, and tiles of the ancient city, striving to accumulate in thickness.
Above the Little Spirit Sound Institute.
The falling snowflakes, yet to touch the courtyard ground, were instantly melted into beads of water by the searing heat, only to evaporate with a sizzling sound into steam, twisting in the night.
Inside the courtyard.
A deathly silence reigned.
Gu Changqing, Ning Caisen, and other Divine Sect Masters' expressions subtly changed, shuddering at the sight of Wu Yuan, the Martial Monk, reduced to ashes.
"Prison Lotus..."
Gu Changqing's eyes were somber; as a Divine Pill Saint, he harbored an almost obsessive yearning for fire.
