Southern Painting, Cold Night

South of Pingzhou lay many great mountains.

In early winter, the grass and trees withered, the world turned dry and yellow, and mule bells occasionally rang out along the mountain roads as travelers bundled in thick clothes made their way through.

The Daoist, too, wore thick clothing. Leaning on a bamboo staff, he walked along the mountaintop, pausing now and then to look into the distance.

A cat kept close at his side.

A swallow had stopped to rest.

The party had just dismounted from White Crane's back.

"Now that we've visited all five mountains, where are we going next? Back to Yizhou, meow?" the cat asked as it walked.

"There's no rush."

"No rush!"

"Of course."

"Do we have to wait until next autumn, meow?"

"Summer's turning into autumn will do."

The Daoist spoke as he took in the broad, open scenery.

By now, all five roads to Heaven had been restored. Spirit Officer Gold had been killed, Zhou Leigong persuaded, and the forces directly under the Heavenly Emperor had ceased to exist. Among the ancient gods, Emperor Lord Huoyang had been severely wounded and entered seclusion, which was more or less a declaration of his stance. Heavenly Bell Ancient God had fallen, while Void Emperor had symbolically lent a hand; the Daoist had not pursued him to the bitter end, and a tacit understanding now existed between them. Under the pretext of restoring the roads to Heaven, half the power of the immoral gods in the Heavenly Palace had been removed. What chiefly remained were the Four Directions and Four Saints.

It was time to strip them of their positions as well.

That would be the true hard battle.

"The path's blocked!"

Three Flower Cat ran ahead, then turned back to look at him.

"Let's go down the