The dilapidated temple atop the snow mountain.
The colossal statue had shattered into huge boulders strewn across the ground. Wind and snow swept past, carrying an indescribable desolation and decay.
Many craftsmen had fled, and even more had been killed. The remaining slaves were no longer enough to continue construction of the temple, so work had to be halted until another batch of slaves arrived. The Western Teachings disciples idled away their days in warm houses, drinking hot milk tea by the fire and sleeping soundly beneath warm sheepskin blankets.
The elderly monk stood before the window, gazing at the shattered statue. The wrinkles on his face seemed to have deepened by many years.
The sect placed tremendous importance on Snow Mountain Temple. Its location was strategically perilous, easy to defend and hard to assault, and it was also a rare spiritual land. If the construction schedule was delayed, who knew what punishment would descend? It was all because of those savage, stupid barbarians!
The window was cold, and icy air drifted down from it, chilling the floor. He pulled his sheepskin robe tighter and grabbed a golden cup, intending to drink some hot milk to warm himself.
He had just turned around when he abruptly froze. Who was that?
He stiffly turned his head toward the distant cloud layer and the cluster of figures within it, his hand crushing the golden cup into a lump!
"Chunyang Palace! Why are they here?"
Huang Zhao also saw those Chunyang Palace cultivators. Though it was usually arrogant and unrestrained, it did not charge forward to fight as it normally would. Killing depended on the opponent. That group contained two Deity Transformation Stage cultivators leading eighteen Nascent Soul Realm cultivators, and moreover... they were all Purple Void Sword Cultivators.
It silently retreated and