Rumble...
Wind, rain, and thunder blanketed the mountains, their muffled roar rolling through the land. Amid the vast, slanting downpour, green peaks could vaguely be seen half-floating in the rain curtain. Lightning repeatedly lit the ink-black clouds with golden edges. In this world of raging wind and rain, only the Dragon Palace's lights remained. Cultivators and great demons had stopped refining medicine. Bolts of electric serpents flashed again and again, illuminating terrified faces. The heavy rain filled them with unease.
There was something strange about this rain!
Some Mysterious Power had restricted spiritual energy. They could neither fly nor cast spells.
The raindrops were heavy, suppressing the circulation of spiritual energy within cultivators and demons alike. The cultivators were drenched and buffeted by the wind like ordinary mortals. Each muffled thunderclap contained the might of heaven and earth. The Great Ascension Stage cultivators in particular sensed that the lightning resembled a heavenly tribulation searching for a target. They were so frightened that they dared not make any rash moves, fearing they would draw the heavenly lightning's attention and bring down their tribulation ahead of time.
On the high platform, men, women, old people, and children hid in the pavilion to shelter from the rain.
Every face was grave and tense. Strings of water dripped from the pavilion's golden tiles with sharp pattering sounds, as though every drop struck the cultivators directly in the heart.
There was no music or dancing, no wine, meat, or spiritual fruits. They could not flee even if they wanted to, and the sound of the rain left their minds in turmoil.
Their moods were like pill furnaces extinguished by rainwater, chilled to the bone in an instant.
The young master seated at the highest point stared blankly at the white expanse of mountains and rain.