The Gambler

The Hundred Slaughter Star Lord left without hesitation. More than once, he had suspected that the Li Family Ancestor might have an immortal within him—one even he knew nothing about.

If that was true, his claim that an uncrossable chasm lay between mortals and immortals no longer seemed so laughable. He could also abandon the idea of sending the Thunder Immortal, one of his four killing generals, into oblivion, because that fellow was still tirelessly offering him schemes to kill the Li Family Ancestor.

More than once, that had made the Ancestor Blade suspect the Thunder Immortal was mocking him with veiled sarcasm.

The immortal was terrifyingly calm.

Unfortunately, not everyone was like the Ancestor Blade, who knew when to cut his losses. Most were gamblers. A gambler always believed he would win the next hand, whether he had won or lost the last. He always believed fate stood at his side and that he would leave with his pockets full.

Some gamblers even believed they were the house.

Little did they know that one day, bad luck would come knocking.

In the Imperial Capital, snow fell for three days in the second month.

The imperial city donned silver. Beneath their eaves, the people reached out to catch the falling snowflakes—and caught the bitter winter with them.

Their winter lay in their hands.

Wenren Xianyi, the empress standing in the Golden Throne Hall of the Heavenly Palace, was too high up, too close to the sky. Her winter lay in her heart.

But she had no time to argue with the heavens. Imperial cultivators kept entering through the hall's grand formation, then gathered below the nine tiers of jade steps like a flock of chattering carrier pigeons. After so long in the Golden Throne Hall and so many affairs