Stars lay scattered across the deep night; a lone lamp glimmered upon the rocks, while the moon had yet to sink.
The night deepened, and even the wind that blew seemed to carry a killing chill.
A clash between cultivators had driven the surrounding commonfolk into their homes. They dared not light lamps or speak loudly, terrified of disturbing the battle and suffering collateral damage for nothing.
At the entrance to Qingbo Street, An Le stood where he was and looked up. Green Mountain and Ink Pool hung at his waist, and beneath the cold moonlight and starlight, his handsome features gained a faintly bewitching air.
Yet at this moment, all the splendor of the long street had been gathered into a single slash by the man in scholar's robes.
An Le watched intently, and admiration stirred within him as well.
Luo Qingchen raised his sword and severed his Dao Heart. From then on, he would seek no Great Dao, only unfettered satisfaction. Such audacity was truly astounding.
The Dao Heart was the gathering of one's faith, spirit, will, and all else in the pursuit of the Dao. Once severed, what was cut away was not merely the heart that sought the Dao, but the road ahead upon the Great Dao itself.
Perhaps after this cut, Luo Qingchen's cultivation would forever halt here, never to advance again.
An Le marveled at such resolve.
They said that when a common man grew furious, blood would splatter five paces away. Yet when scholars became enraged, they could be just as free and decisive in their actions.
For the death of his coachman, Luo Qingchen had flown into a rage, severed his Dao Heart in fury, repaid the favor of having once used the East Sea Heart Cleansing Pearl at Prime Minister Qin's