"Sir, we have arrived."
The stars are sparse in the moonlit sky as a carriage stops before the main sect of the Taoist school.
Sang Zheng takes the initiative to pull back the curtain of the carriage.
Chen Jingxuan does not rush to get out. He sits on one side of the carriage, gazing at the grand mountain gate not far away. The main sect's staircase is shrouded in thick fog, only faint shadows can be seen...
The atmosphere at the Taoist school is extraordinarily solemn tonight.
Years ago, he had visited this place. Back then, even though the mountain's defense formations were tight, they weren't sealed so thoroughly as to prevent even divine thought from penetrating.
"... Sir, is there a fight at the Taoist school?"
Sang Zheng is a little confused.
How come he sees, at the end of the thick fog, several disciples are repairing the positions of the mountain gate pillars.
"Swoosh swoosh swoosh!"
The cold wind blows, carrying countless grass clippings.
