At dawn, the sky was clung to by thick, inescapable gray fog, with not even a sliver of light from daybreak able to penetrate it.
A soft drizzle fell without end, weaving itself into a translucent curtain of damp mist.
It drifted lightly between heaven and earth, wrapping the distant mountains, the city walls, and the broken ruins in a hazy Dead Silence. Even the sound of the wind was filtered down to nothing but fragmented whimpers, so stifling that it made one's chest tighten.
Su Fan slowly opened his eyes, a lingering heaviness still clouding their depths.
He sat up from the crude stone bed and brushed his fingertips over his cheek, touching a thin layer of damp chill—the coldness brought in when the misty rain seeped into the Cave Mansion.
He turned his head, his gaze falling on Zhang Xuemo sleeping beside him.
Her breathing was soft and shallow, but a trace of unshakable weariness lingered between her brows. She had probably been tormented for quite some time by the oppressive atmosphere at the edge of the battlefield as well.
Changping Heaven had only just reclaimed its lost territory. The good news of purging the invading Demon Race had not truly brought peace to this realm.
The disciples of the various sects had long since been sent in batches to reinforce other battlefields. Only the thousand-odd disciples of the "Polar Sword Pavilion" and "Heavenly Lightning Dao Palace" remained in the "Cangjian Immortal City."
After all, they were Su Fan's trusted direct followers. During the three years he had been in seclusion healing his injuries, no matter how overwhelmed the higher-ups of Changping Heaven's sects had been, they had not dared to transfer this force elsewhere.
Before this, Su Fan had launched a bloody hunt throughout Changping Heaven, targeting