Buddha Mountain had suffered calamity. The radiance that had endured for a thousand years vanished completely between heaven and earth along with the collapse of the Great Buddha. This was the darkest day in the Buddhist Kingdom. Countless Buddhist followers gazed toward the sacred mountain, kneeling on the ground and weeping bitterly.
Demons had appeared in the world, and the Buddha could not act. Was this pure land of the Buddhist Kingdom also to sink into a night of terror?
Why had their Buddha not yet returned?
The followers who worshipped the false Buddha had long since lost their hearts. Unable to withstand even the slightest blow, they plunged into despair and panic on this night when the Buddha perished.
On the mountain, beside the collapsed stone statue, three hundred Imperial Guards sat on the ground regulating their breaths. Their blood-smeared faces remained as resolute as ever. Even if the road ahead was rugged, even if life and death hung by a thread, they had never given up. As always, they trusted their marquis, trusted the Empress Dowager far away.
In Heavenly Edict Hall, Changsun sat in the side seat beside the dragon throne. She had gone without sleep or rest for several days. Beneath the phoenix crown, her beautiful eyes were now bloodshot, yet she still persisted stubbornly.
Memorials had piled up in stack after stack upon the desk, especially the battle reports from Great Xia's southwest, which arrived every half day.
She had cruelly sent him onto that battlefield. How could she not feel guilty? How could she not worry? She was not made of iron or stone. Yet compared with the countless common people in Great Xia's southwest, personal feelings were so tiny. She could only sacrifice him, sacrifice the person she trusted most.
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