Black Clouds Press Down on the City, Threatening to Destroy It

Lin Qingzhou sat in his room, his mind a chaotic mess. He replayed everything he had experienced these past few days over and over, a stifling weight pressing against his chest—he couldn't tell if it was melancholy or some other nameless feeling.

But before this mood could dissipate, he turned to look at Na'er, who was growing taller by the day, her features becoming increasingly vivid and spirited. His heart gave a sharp, sudden tug; that inescapable anxiety coiled around his mind, silent and persistent, impossible to shake off.

He knew the truth as clearly as a mirror: the plot of the original story was etched in stone. The day Gu Yue would come to take Na'er away was drawing closer with each passing day, like a countdown ticking away in his heart.

That sense of imminent urgency could not be suppressed by mere willpower. It was like a dense, suffocating web that wrapped around him, tightening until even breathing felt like a struggle, leaving him filled with a restless agitation that had nowhere to go.

It wasn't that he hadn't thought of resisting, or hadn't tried to do something to keep Na'er, desperately trying to break free from this predetermined fate. But in the end, he could do nothing; he was utterly helpless.

This profound sense of powerlessness was like an ice needle tipped with thorns, pricking his heart again and again. It was cold and painful, making him hate himself from the bottom of his soul—hating his own uselessness, unable to protect even the person he wanted to guard.

What other choice did Lin Qingzhou have? He possessed no martial soul; he was merely an ordinary person, lacking even the qualifications to step into that world.

"How pathetic is this life I lead?"

Lin Qingzhou slumped, leaning against the cold back of his chair. The moonlight from outside spilled through the gap in the window, landing squarely on his face and carving a sharp, distinct line between light and shadow.

Half his face was buried in the pitch-black darkness, hiding his overflowing helplessness and unwilling struggle. The other half was bathed in the cold moonlight, yet the loneliness and dejection in his eyes could not be hidden even by the light, weighing down on him until he could barely breathe.

He let out a long sigh, a sound filled with the exhaustion of one who has endured too much and the compromise of one forced to bow his head. His voice was hoarse.

"Forget it. No use thinking about it. Time to sleep. I have to get up early tomorrow to forge iron and earn money. I'll just muddle through one day at a time—what else can I do?"

Dragging a body that felt as if it were filled with lead, every step a burden, he slowly shuffled back to the bed and lay down. In the dim light, his silhouette looked thin and desolate, filled with a profound bleakness.

Even if his heart held ten thousand unwilling thoughts, no matter how much he resisted, he was ultimately unable to change anything. He could only be pushed forward by fate, with no say in the matter at all.

Looking out the window again, the night sky over Aolai City had lost its usual starry expanse. Thick, heavy clouds layered one upon another, sealing away all the starlight. The entire sky was pitch black, not a glimmer of light leaking through, eerily silent.

Only in the deepest parts of the clouds did faint flashes occasionally flicker. One could vaguely sense thunder rolling and brewing within; that dull, oppressive atmosphere pressed down from all sides, making one's heart inexplicably panic, as if something terrible were about to happen.

No matter how one looked at it, tomorrow would not be a peaceful day.

Elsewhere, in a secluded, gloomy, and dim church far from the town, the atmosphere was stifling to the extreme.

In the center of the church stood a statue of an unknown deity. Its features were blurred, and the aura it exuded was both bizarre and chilling, making anyone standing nearby feel their heart race and their skin crawl.

Before the statue, a man with a hideous, twisted face sat cross-legged, meditating. A thick, sinister aura swirled around him, blending into the surrounding environment.

The expression on his face looked incredibly devout, his eyes filled with a fanatical obsession. If one were to look only at his appearance, anyone would think he was a pious believer dedicated to his god.

But looking at what he clutched tightly in his hand, the illusion of beauty shattered instantly.

It was a mass of blood-red flesh that was still pulsing slightly. Sticky, bloody vapors drifted into the air; just looking at it made one's scalp tingle, feeling physically ill and mentally strained.

The man kept muttering something, his words slurred and indistinct, speaking in obscure and difficult-to-understand incantations. His tone was strange and eerie, and no one could understand what he was saying.

As he spoke, his emotions grew more agitated. Finally, he shoved the flesh in his hand directly into his mouth and chewed wildly. Crimson blood dripped down the corners of his mouth, staining his clothes and the floor—a scene so terrifying it sent a chill down one's spine.

"Clang!"

The dull sound of a stone door suddenly shattered the silence of the church as the cold, heavy gates were pushed open from the outside.

Immediately after, dozens of figures dressed in black, their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods, walked in in two neat lines. They approached the statue and bowed in unison toward the man, their voices low and filled with absolute reverence.

"Greetings, Leader! Your subordinates have confirmed it: Aolai City is indeed the place where Feng Qingyun passed away all those years ago!"

The moment the man called the leader heard this, he snapped open his eyes, which had been closed until now. His pupils were a deep, blood-red, and they instantly erupted with a chilling, murderous glare.

Like a bloodthirsty beast that had been starving for a long time, he stared fixedly at the person who had come to report. The sinister aura around him surged violently, pressing down so hard that the others couldn't even straighten their backs.

The next second, he threw his head back and began to laugh maniacally. The laughter was sharp and shrill, crazed, echoing back and forth in the empty church, making one's heart tremble.

Yet, the subordinates standing below remained expressionless, showing not a hint of surprise; clearly, having followed him for so long, they were long accustomed to such scenes.

"Hahahaha! Excellent! This is truly wonderful news! Feng Qingyun, that peerless cultivation technique that allowed you to defy the heavens and change your fate—it is finally going to fall into my hands! With it, I will surely break through the shackles of my current realm and elevate my cultivation to the next level!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the crazed smile on his face suddenly froze. His expression turned incredibly gloomy and terrifying. A fit of violent coughing interrupted his wild laughter, preventing him from even finishing a complete sentence.

"Cough... cough... cough-cough-cough!"

Each cough was sharp and hoarse, sounding agonizingly painful. The subordinate standing nearby did not dare to delay for even a second.

He hurriedly and respectfully handed over a mass of flesh. It was also pulsing slightly, identical to the one the leader had just held, exuding an indescribable, eerie quality.

The man called the leader snatched the flesh and swallowed it whole. Before long, the frantic coughing stopped completely.

His face, which had appeared aged and blood-depleted due to his nearing end of life, slowly recovered at a visible rate. The previously decaying aura stabilized, and he returned to his former sinister and composed self.

"My time is running out. My lifespan is nearly exhausted. If I cannot break through this final barrier, I fear I will truly perish, with no chance of ever rising again."