Nightfall

The White Smoke

The moon shone again and the wind ceased. Scary blood stains remained on the unmelted snow. It was deadly quiet again in the Divine Hall of Judgment except for the seldom sounds of stones falling from the walls.

The middle-aged priest walked to the terrace followed by Xiong Chumo and Zhao Nanhai. They pondered for a long while and stared at the bottomless abyss, the steep cliff and snow covered ancient trees.

Then they left without a word, or a glance at each other. Ning Que had jumped into the abyss, together with Haotian. Tonight Ye Hongyu did too. Ning Que and Haotian had survived, but she would not.

Since death was the only possibility, they did not need to worry further.

She was finished. But there were more things to be taken care of. She was the Great Divine Priest of Judgment. Her death would definitely bring about many troubles. Taoism had to face a lot right now. Xiong Chumo should be prepared to deal with her furious subordinates in the Divine Hall of Judgment. Zhao Nanhai had to support him to maintain the stability of Peach Mountain. The middle-aged priest needed to regain people’s faith for Taoism.

Most importantly, after their fight tonight and Ye Hongyu’s death, Taoism would officially start to extinguish the New Stream, as well as to launch their war against the Tang and the Academy.

The three left. The destroyed Divine Hall regained its loneliness. Of course there would be people going down the abyss to confirm Ye Hongyu’s death and locate her body. But by the time her body would be delivered to the Divine Hall of Judgment, the chilling Divine Hall could never welcome its lively master again.

…

…

The night was deep. And the moon was hiding behind thick clouds. Tangling rivers flowed across the fields. Darkness prevailed and enveloped the stone bridges and the cold-resistant wildflowers.

It was such a cold winter. The fields outside the Chaoyang city were frozen hard. Amidst the dark and silent night, someone fell off the city wall and pounded on the ground. The body cracked the frozen ground and the bones broke. But the person did not make any sound despite the pain.

Wang Jinglue furrowed his eyebrows further. Even the darkness could not hide his paleness. He was sweating profusely. He wiped off the blood at the corner of his lips and crawled with great difficulty into a bush. Upon making sure he was safe from the chase, he exhaled in relief.

Right then another body pounded on the ground. He peeped through the bush and saw a man lying dead on the ground, stained in blood.

Hurried footsteps were heard on top of the city wall. Dozens of torches were lit up instantly and dispelled the darkness, as bright as day.

The man lay motionless on the ground and his face was lit up by the torches. The face was covered with blood but he could still see it clearly. Wang Jinglue got stiff. His hands trembled while holding onto the branches and his face got paler because he knew that man. More precisely, he knew him very well.

In the past few years, Wang Jinglue had been gathering young people in Yangzhou City who cared about their homeland Tang. He had met with many, one of which was lying dead there.

It became chaotic on top of the city wall of Yangzhou. People were shouting and fighting with their weapons clashing. Wang Jinglue raised his head in difficulty. He knew that the young people who were loyal to Tang were being hunted up there by the powerful cultivators from the Divine Halls. He clutched his fists more firmly. But being able to do nothing made him desperate.

Another person fell hard on the frozen field. Mud and blood splashed. More bodies followed. More young people were killed.

There was nothing but despair and anguish on his face. He could not help but regret. He regretted that he failed to realize the Divine Halls had his plan in their hands. And he regretted more for not being able to predict their sudden attack.