The next day, the valley was springlike with flowers and grass. Mist shrouded the abyssal lake, yet the sky overhead was pitch-black.
Dark clouds blanketed the heavens, layer upon layer, with blazing lightning serpents flickering faintly within. Rolling thunder echoed through Hu Mountain, weighing heavily upon everyone's hearts.
"Looks like today won't be peaceful. The mountain rain is coming, and the wind has already filled the tower!"
Si Peng cast aside the crimson robe he usually wore, revealing armor beneath it traced with red patterns. He cut a dashing figure, a sheathed longsword hanging at his waist, its hilt adorned with a tassel as scarlet as fire.
Looking at the weather overhead, he spoke in an inscrutable tone.
Today was the day Su Hongtu would cultivate his extraordinary art. The time and place of the ritual were today, here. And if nothing unexpected happened, Xiang Qing's people should be coming to cause trouble.
A great battle was unavoidable.
Yet strangely, he felt neither much worry nor fear. The weakness he had once shown because of years of affection seemed to have vanished entirely, leaving behind only calm composure.
He was even somewhat eager to try. His mind drifted back to many years ago, when five young men practiced martial arts together, talked together, and dreamed together of the future. Yet as time passed, they had ultimately reached the point of an irreconcilable break.
Wei Hua also wore soft armor, his damp hair plastered against his forehead. His mood seemed somewhat heavy. Coming to Si Peng's side, he suddenly asked,
"If we win today, and Luo Ning begs you not to kill Xiang Qing, will you agree?"
Of the five of them, He Wuji had possessed the greatest talent, the purest heart for martial arts, and the highest attainments in the