The rain poured in torrents.
Atop the Tower Orb of First Pavilion Under Heaven stood an elderly man with crane-white hair and a blue robe, immortal air and sage-like bones.
Mei Suren gazed into the dark heavens.
He had stood here for a long time, witnessing the rain over the Royal City this night, from its initial drizzle to the present downpour.
"Splendid."
"Truly splendid."
The Tower Orb afforded a view of the entire city.
Yet Mei Suren had no need for it at all. With a mere sweep of spiritual perception, everything that had happened in East Heavenly King City tonight lay bare before his eyes.
"Xu Deyi, Xu Fuji, Xu Xiaoshou..."
Gazing in a certain direction, Mei Suren murmured to himself, "So Saint Slave's reach extends this far?"
He found it rather amusing.
He had long felt that it was impossible for the Royal City to produce such a swordsmanship prodigy out of nowhere, only for the world to remain unaware while he, Mei Suren, alone discovered him.
So he belonged to Ba Zunan.
"That kid..."
Mei Suren shook his head and sank into memories.
He still remembered that snowy, wind-lashed afternoon, when Ba Zunan and Wen Ting had been youthful and high-spirited, their bold words soaring into the sky.
Who would have thought that in the blink of an eye, so many years had passed?
The boys of that day had already grown to the point where they could stir the winds and clouds of the continent.
"Ba Zunan..."
Mei Suren watched the night rain over the Royal City, his paper folding fan lightly tapping against his palm. His gaze drifted as though he saw the figure of his old friend from years past.
"You Tu, was this the 'most beautiful scenery' you spoke of?"
Back then,