He raised his sword and closed his eyes.
"Slaughter Star, slay men—nothing more than severing fate, extinguishing providence, leaving no fortune behind."
Hum.
A clear sword chime rang out, piercing the clouds.
Boom!
The blazing sun was like fire; the clouds and mist, like water.
Sword light swept through the clouds.
A stretch of clouds spanning ten thousand miles suddenly became like rootless duckweed, like fish cast from the water, plunging down from the sky.
Clouds were both illusory and real, suspended in the air—removed from the dust of the world, distant from the earth, yet close to the heavens.
But today, all of that Fate Allotment was severed by a single sword strike. Its fate dispersed, becoming rainwater that fell to the earth in droplets.
Rain filled the sky, falling with utter disregard for reason. No celestial signs had foretold it, nor could any Heavenly Secrets explain it.
It was as though this were simply nature's law, as though that expanse of clouds ten thousand miles wide had always been meant to turn into rain and descend.
Following the wind, it drifted and curled back.
From Sun-Moon Mountain outward, it began as a fine drizzle, then became a rushing downpour, and finally erupted into a thunderous, torrential rain.
The disciples all around lifted their eyes to the sky.
Astonishment filled their gazes.
"Which senior is casting a spell?" Some disciples of lower cultivation stared upward in bewilderment. The rain had come too suddenly, without the slightest warning.
One had to know that the Dao Sect also followed the cycle of the four seasons. This was merely the beginning of winter; yet instead of vast falling snow, there came a fierce summer rain. It looked as though it defied the seasons and the natural order.
Figures stepped out from cultivation