The Misty Rain Drifts Down

Until the very end, Wang Duoyu, whose soul had become an undying Divine Soul, never saw a single word in the Heavenly Book.

Only then did he believe that this really was the Heavenly Book.

Not until Wang Duoyu's soul vanished into the night fog did Wang Xian drop a talisman to set the corpse ablaze. He picked up the Storage Ring from the ground, then turned and left.

Tomorrow was New Year's Eve. Tonight, he was going home.

What surprised him was that even when he was on the verge of being cut apart until his soul dissipated, Wang Duoyu had never asked about the Eastern Phoenix Clan.

So Wang Xian hadn't told him about his master in the abyss, either.

After all, the man's body had been destroyed, and the wealth he'd amassed over a lifetime had fallen into Wang Xian's hands. That was as good as fulfilling his promise to his master.

A year passed in a blink. Tomorrow was the last day of the old year.

Even though he had just cleaned house for the Eastern Phoenix Family with a wave of his hand, as he walked home, he felt little triumph.

Instead, he wondered whether Tang Qingyu would follow him from Qingzhou, and where Tang Shisan, whom he hadn't seen in so long, might be.

Why wasn't it snowing, when tomorrow was New Year's Eve?

Who could have guessed that as he muttered to himself and pondered along the way, a snowflake slowly drifted down from the sky and landed in his outstretched palm?

He paused, then murmured, "It's snowing."

In the next instant, it was as if he had returned to Huiwen City, a thousand miles away. The boy who hadn't seen snow in so long had finally waited for a whitened world of