The South Pavilion Venerable of the Eight Directions Pavilion—his appearance often represented death and destruction.
If that decisive battle at sea had been lost, Myriad Manifestations Palace probably would not even have had the chance to regroup and fight again. Before they knew it, they had walked once more before the Gates of Hell.
Looking at the boundless golden Sea of Clouds below, Song Changsheng slowly breathed out a mouthful of Turbid Qi.
This was the best of times, and also the worst of times. The Song Clan still had many challenges to face in the future, and they were far more perilous than before.
"Strength is the foundation, after all."
Song Changsheng murmured softly, and his figure merged into the Sea of Clouds, vanishing from sight...
He returned to Vast Peak without a sound. Song Qingxi and the others had not yet arrived, so the clan seemed somewhat quiet, but quite a few cultivators had already gathered in twos and threes at the Training Ground, beginning to bathe in the morning sun and absorb the Essence of the Sun.
He did not alert anyone and went straight back to his courtyard halfway up the mountain.
Autumn's chill had deepened. The parasol trees in the courtyard had already turned yellow, and whenever the wind blew, golden leaves would fall from the branches.
The Song Clan had no menial servants; all matters, large or small, were handled personally. In the past, this courtyard had always been cleaned by Song Qingxi and the others on his behalf, but during this period, they had all been at Myriad Manifestations Mountain.
By rights, the ground should already have accumulated a thick layer of fallen leaves, yet what Song Changsheng saw were only a few scattered leaves. Clearly, someone had been cleaning it regularly.
Song