The noonday sun was still scorching. One incense stick's time burned away, and the curling blue smoke vanished beneath the blazing sun at the eaves.
Master Bei Feng stood beneath the weathered flying eaves of Bright Buddha Temple. He watched the Spring Embroidered Sabers flashing coldly at the waists of those Eastern Depot agents at the foot of the mountain, watched the Imperial Guards in flying fish uniforms vanish into the distance amid swirling dust.
The wind swept across his deep-red cassock, stained with the blood of dead monks, lifting several withered ginkgo leaves before they rustled down onto the moss-covered stone steps.
A golden gleam suddenly flashed through Master Bei Feng's clouded old eyes, and ripples spread deep within his pupils.
That vermilion-lacquered, gold-painted eight-bearer sedan reappeared in his mind.
Its curtain was half-drawn. The famed Director of the Eastern Depot reclined against a sable-fur cushion, his black python robe embroidered with exquisitely intricate golden thread.
As for this Eastern Depot Director who held sway over the realm, Master Bei Feng had remained hidden beneath the ancient temple's green lamps and had never seen his true face.
Everything Master Bei Feng knew about this ruthless Eastern Depot chief had come from his disciples.
In any case, Director Lu's name was always linked to phrases like "commanding the court" and "a storm of blood and slaughter."
All throughout the Great Yu Kingdom, people said his methods were vicious, that with one turn of his hand he could gather clouds, and with another he could unleash rain.
Rumor had it that the Director of the Eastern Depot had gathered followers far and wide. A great many people, both in the imperial court and among the sects of the martial world, lay under his authority.
Yet after seeing this Eastern Depot Director