Grand Profound Tribulation Lightning Art

Compared to the blood and carnage outside,

Listening Wind River had been rather peaceful these past few days.

Drops of water gathered beneath the eaves struck the bluestone slabs one by one. The clouds split open along the east, and light streamed through the gap, falling upon the rain-soaked tiles throughout the city and steaming up into a faint white mist.

The center of the former county town had been cleared into a broad open space, where dozens of long benches were arranged.

The elites of the Demon Suppression Bureau, cultivators from the Cauldron Sect, and even Old Red Flood Dragon and several other demons were crammed into the corners, craning their necks to look ahead.

Purple Plume sat cross-legged above them, twirling a blade of grass in her hand as she explained matters of cultivation.

Everyone below held their breath.

In truth, they had heard scattered fragments of many such things back in Great Tang, but no one had ever been able to explain them clearly.

Today, at last, someone was laying it all out from beginning to end.

Yet as these matters gradually became clearer in their minds, their spirits slowly sank.

Until Purple Plume gradually trailed off, when at last a young Demon Suppression Guard in the crowd could not help asking, "If that is the case, how far can people like us cultivate in this lifetime?"

Purple Plume turned her head to look.

After studying him for a while, she ultimately did not say anything harsh. She merely tossed aside the blade of grass in her hand.

"Depends on fate."

In fact, there was no need to look to fate at all.

The living beings from the painting had been fortunate enough to move into this world. Even if they could rely on the dense spiritual