The two held each other's gaze for only a few seconds. Xiao Qi kept frowning without saying a word, while Yu Rounü did not linger long either. Once she finished speaking, she walked along the lakeshore. With every step she took, those beside her respectfully lowered their heads, not daring to meet her eyes. They only dared to look at the footprints left by the feet that had replaced her enormous fish tail.
Yan Liang led the Fire Tribe behind Yu Rounü and received the same respectful treatment. The hierarchy within Yin Yang Valley was immediately laid bare as the six gates gathered together.
By then, the sky had completely darkened. There was no sunlight, only night.
On the top floor of the black palace, Jiang Lingxuan suddenly rose in shock. The clock before him had begun racing forward. The hour hand swiftly passed eleven, then eleven-thirty, until only five short minutes remained before twelve!
"What is going on?" Jiang Lingxuan cried in alarm, hurriedly pulling something from his robes and keeping it ready.
It was a mirror—a bronze mirror, plain to the extreme, utterly ordinary.
Yet it was this mirror that He Peiyuan had desperately thrown to him before dying, telling him to bring it here.
The clock continued moving, but its speed slowed until it matched that of an ordinary clock.
While everyone watched the anomaly with tense expressions beside the lake, only a few were not looking at the water. Instead, they were staring at the cliff wall beside it.
It was an enormous stretch of mountain rock, though it was difficult to call it a stone wall. There was not a single crack in its center; it stood there as one whole piece, joined to the surrounding mountains as though a stone mountain had been cut