It was the start of the dog days, and at this hour, torrential rain poured over Central Capital.
It was the heaviest rain in years. The rain's force nearly overturned the entire city, its torrents surging like ten thousand galloping horses.
Wenchang Pavilion brought out the article personally written by Du Sheng back then—"If only I had thousands upon thousands of vast mansions, sheltering all the poor scholars beneath the heavens so they could smile with joy." It transformed into rows of grand halls filled with Righteous Qi, protecting the people within the city.
There were hardly any pedestrians on the streets. Never mind the peddlers setting up stalls—even the grand buildings and shops with doors and signs had mostly closed for business. In this weather, aside from rice and flour shops receiving customers, probably only gambling dens and brothels could still make money.
Broadwater Alley.
An old man sat by the window, puffing at his dry tobacco with soft clicks as he gazed at the curtain of rain before him. He seemed to recall how, roughly three years ago, on another rainy day like this, a young man had walked through the alley like a walking corpse, carrying a blood-dripping saber in one hand and a human head in the other.
Then a woman whose features could not be seen clearly had approached him with an umbrella, shielding him from the downpour...
"Rain is never good rain!" the old man sighed.
As if echoing his words, a streak of azure light, like a sharp sword, tore through the curtain of rain.
The old man narrowed his eyes. Though the azure light was swift, he could see clearly that within it was a wounded Great Scholar. A long spear was embroidered on the Great Scholar's sleeve.
Throwing down the brush