In the third year of Qing Sect, October, autumn.
After Li Tong of the Incense Gathering Cult once again pressed Xuanjing and faced off against Taian Army general Yao Xiong for half a month, he suddenly changed course and launched a surprise assault on Chiyu City, crushing the city's defenders.
But at the final moment, Li Tong was ambushed by Daoist Shi Jing, a Daoist disciple of the Wushi Sect, and suffered grievous wounds before retreating in defeat.
Rustle.
Wei He put away the letter in his hand, rubbed it into fine gray ash, and scattered it into the wastebasket beside him.
"Troubled times indeed." He sighed, draped himself in a loose brocade robe, and walked out of the room.
Beyond the wooden building lay a broad stretch of open ground.
More than a hundred new recruits stood there in neat formation, punching and kicking in unison as their shouts rang out.
Leading them were the remaining old members of the Myriad Poison Sect.
There were only a little over a hundred of these veterans, but every one of them held profound affection and belonging toward the Myriad Poison Sect.
With them dispersed as instructors to teach the disciples their foundations, while instilling in them a sense of sect loyalty, there could be no better arrangement.
Wei He turned left, passed through the corridor, tapped off the ground with his toes, and leaped up from the side of the wooden building, unfolding his movement technique.
He moved with astonishing speed. In the blink of an eye, he crossed broad stretches of open ground and wooden houses, borrowed force from a rooftop for one final leap, and soared into a bamboo grove.
Beyond the bamboo grove rose a section of cliff, slanting upward.
Atop the cliff stood a smooth, level circular