Shu Mountain was perilous, harder to climb than the blue sky. Yet who knew that the human heart was more treacherous than mountains and rivers?
Time could change everything, including faith and perseverance. The once high-spirited worry for all under heaven had gradually changed. The original founders did not know when they had been pushed to the margins, nor did they know who was pulling the strings. Everything was shrouded in mystery.
What great figures needed to do was not curse face-to-face or wield the blade themselves. They only needed to follow the current and give it a light stir.
Wars sparked by sectarian faith were immensely destructive. When faith was established, it would adapt to circumstances and borrow momentum to grow. Once it reached a certain point, however, interests, selfish desires, and all manner of factors would drive it to wage wars on every level against the outside world—fighting for famous mountains and great rivers, fighting for believers, seeking sole dominion, destroying the other side's books and scriptures, and launching war.
Religious turmoil could easily trigger large-scale wars that lasted hundreds or even thousands of years.
Truth could not be changed by one's state of mind. Perhaps the future would be beautiful, but it was certainly not now.
A mere demonic beast, the white flood dragon, had unwittingly been dragged into an inexplicable vortex. Even the Dragon Hunters felt matters gradually slipping out of control. Both sides were nothing more than tools on a game board.
How many could escape the sorrow of being insignificant?
On a distant hillside, many commoners who had fled up the mountain from the county town to escape the flood stared through the rain at the town below. Black clouds seemed about to touch the ground. Within the darkness-shrouded town, white flames burned everywhere.