Those were the cries of mortals: an old woman clutching her dead grandson and wailing in despair; a burly man cursing in anguish as he struggled through the mud; countless families making their final pleas before the Filth Tide swallowed them whole.
By rights, Taiping Temple's main peak towered into the clouds, and its Mountain Protecting Array kept the outside world at bay. There was no way a Third Realm Cultivator could hear the cries of mortals at the foot of the mountain.
The cries rang directly in Zhou Li's Dao Heart.
His hands, tucked inside his wide sleeves, trembled uncontrollably. His eyes were fixed on the purple-black tide below the mountain, and Spiritual Power raced wildly through his meridians.
"Zhou Li, withdraw at once!"
The voice of the Discipline Elder came from behind him.
"The Dao follows nature. This is nature. If you step beyond this array, you won't save them; you'll only throw away a spark of Taiping Temple for nothing. Settle your heart and rein in your energy. These are the sect's rules, and the rules of Heaven and Earth."
Zhou Li turned around. He looked at the Elder who had taught him for ten years, at the towering main hall of Taiping Temple behind him, and at his fellow disciples, who had likewise chosen to keep their doors shut.
What a tormenting moment it was. He had learned the rules from childhood, and after coming to Taiping Temple, he had carved them into his very bones. He understood better than anyone that the Elder was right: if a Third Realm Cultivator jumped into the Filth Tide, he wouldn't even make a splash.
At last, he unclenched his fists, raised his hands, and bowed deeply toward Taiping Temple.
"This disciple obeys."
The Dragon-severing Stone crashed down. The