Silver

The old Ginkgo Tree stood tall amid the wind and snow, the air currents whistling through its dense branches.

The pale-faced Martial Monk crashed down beneath the old tree, the golden sheen fading from his entire body. After resting for a long while, he finally regained some strength. Turning his head, he saw Xu Xian lying motionless in the snow beside him. Supporting himself against the trunk, he coughed twice and struggled to his feet. Perhaps his arm had already been broken; his right arm hung limp, unable to muster any strength.

"Cough, cough... You brat aren't dead yet. I believe the White Flood Dragon wouldn't kill people indiscriminately."

Without even looking at the terrifying petite figure amid the wind and snow behind him, he slung Xu Xian over his back with one hand and limped toward the docks.

"There's nothing left for us to do here. I'll take you back."

Bitterness filled his heart as memories kept surfacing in his mind. Ever since fighting the White Flood Dragon in the city, he had always harbored a question: why had no one dealt with such a formidable demon in Suzhou and Hangzhou? Yet those above had kept their mouths shut, treating the matter as taboo.

Later, he saw the White Flood Dragon at Golden Mountain Courtyard, and still no one stopped her.

He had wondered why no one acted even when the demon came to the mountain gate. After some investigation, he understood much more. He did not approve in his heart, yet he could not refute it. Now things were fine—he was badly injured, had lost his fighting strength, and had done everything he could. Leaving now would not weigh upon his conscience.

Huge, razor-sharp blocks of ice kept falling from the sky, thudding all around him. Shattered ice