The Imperial Mausoleum was on fire.
The evening sun had already sunk below the horizon, and the land darkened. Yet the black-red blaze far away, higher than the clouds, was still lit bright by the sun, becoming gossip after tea and meals. Once the restless crowds calmed, they gradually dispersed. Faintly, one could hear countless remarks from those who feared the world was not chaotic enough—claims that the destruction of the mausoleum would surely bring earth-shaking changes, that heaven and earth were about to be remade. In short, charlatans who could not even accurately read a person's eight characters of fate on ordinary days had begun commenting on the primordial cosmos.
Chaoge City remained crowded. Some people intended to return home and live their lives, while others outside the city were still pouring in, preparing to snatch a bite of Dragon Meat and a mouthful of dragon blood. Information traveled too slowly, leaving everything in chaos. Those entering and leaving the city clogged the gates. Even official notices were useless; people would only suspect the authorities of keeping all the benefits for themselves.
The Bamboo Spring Temple group found a secluded alley to rest in.
There were several abandoned houses there. Ordinary mortals might have thought the place haunted, but the few from Bamboo Spring Temple did not care. Leaning against someone's courtyard wall, they ate dry rations and drank water. Since the sky was clear and rainless, they planned to make do by sleeping on the street for the night.
When the fleeting afterglow of sunset lost its color, darkness swiftly enveloped the Vast Land.
Chaoge City, illuminated by the lights of countless homes, was beautiful. Yet the enormous black-red mushroom cloud several hundred li away was so high that it remained under the sun's rays. It would probably