"What... what's happening?"
"Is the sky falling?!"
On the long street, the terrified commoners scattered like birds and beasts, fleeing for shelter.
Yet against their flow, figure after figure pushed upstream.
The gates of the Demon Suppression Headquarters stood wide open.
Hundreds of Demon-Suppression Guards dressed in black with crimson trim surged toward the Imperial City under the leadership of several figures.
Lü Qinghou's saber was already drawn.
You Wujiang carried a longsword on his back, while Gu Wanlan pressed her red lips tightly together.
Zhao Zhongliu clutched his chest, his steps unsteady, but shoved away Deputy General Cui, who had tried to support him. Forcing himself to draw a breath, he cursed as he struggled to keep up at the very front. "I'm not dead yet! I don't need your help!"
It was not just the Demon Suppression Office.
Across Chang'an's one hundred and eight wards.
The Martial Venerables of the Mountain-Viewing Realm from the great aristocratic clans, powerful families, sects, and gangs, who normally kept themselves aloof, all emerged from their secluded mansions at this moment.
Elsewhere, they might have let it slide.
But this was Chang'an!
When the nest was overturned, how could any egg remain whole?
If Chang'an fell, how could the aristocratic clans survive?
In mere moments.
Outside the Imperial City, atop the rooftops, beneath the city walls.
A dense sea of heads filled every space.
Tens of thousands of martial artists sent their blood vitality soaring into the heavens.
Within the Imperial City.
The Li Clan's High Ancestor abruptly opened his eyes. With a single step, he appeared atop the palace wall and looked skyward, his expression grave.
"They've come at last."
His words had barely fallen.
When a figure slowly emerged from the crimson pillar of light directly ahead.
The newcomer wore crimson