That Was the Snow Robe Demon Venerable's Doing. What Did It Have to Do with Me, Li Xinge?

It was an utterly ordinary stretch of countryside.

The sun blazed high above a sky filled with dark clouds.

Sunlight spilled across the endless golden rice fields. Wind swept through them, rolling up wave after wave of grain with a soft rustle.

The sweet scent of ripe rice hung in the air.

It was harvest time.

The villagers bent over their work, swinging sickles through the rice.

Nourished by spiritual energy, the stalks stood straight as bamboo, their heavy heads drooping. Each plant was nearly as tall as an adult.

Children played in the shade beneath the rice.

Deep among the fields, a dark-skinned man in a coarse hemp tunic worked with his head down.

His face was weathered, and he wore a short beard.

Beads of sweat rolled from his brow, but he did not stop to wipe them away. His attention remained fixed on his work.

Just then, a figure wholly out of place in the countryside appeared at the far end of the field path.

The newcomer wore a brocade robe patterned with clouds and had a handsome face.

But when he looked toward the busy, dark-skinned figure in the field, his eyes filled with deep reverence.

He hurried forward, cupped his hands, and bowed. "Sacred Venerable."

The man's sickle paused. He did not turn around until he had cut down several more clumps of rice. Only then did he straighten and face the newcomer.

"Daoist Sanhua," he said in a low voice. "What brings you here?"

"There has been a great upheaval outside, Sacred Venerable," Daoist Sanhua replied gravely.

"Oh?"

That finally caught the man's interest.

He gave a soft laugh. "What happened?"

Daoist Sanhua drew a deep breath. "The ancestors of the Xiang Province Gongsun Clan and the Qu Clan of Chu Province have fallen."