Dusk pressed down upon the city, and cold clouds closed in from every side.
After the great calamity, Chang'an's old capital lay with its walls broken and its rubble still uncleared.
Wind swept through the ruined alleys. Though the smell of blood had faded, a lingering chill remained, sunk into the cracks between the stones, impossible to dispel.
In a secluded residence within the inner city.
Lin Feiyan stood before the courtyard gate, looking at the man in blue robes before her, suddenly unsure what to say.
Gao Qingxiu stood below the steps with his hands clasped behind his back, his robes immaculate, his hair crown perfectly in place.
Even though he had only just entered this world, even though Chang'an was riddled with wounds and the streets around him teemed with foreign cultivators mingling with local martial artists, his expression remained calm.
Lin Feiyan parted her lips, but all the words she had prepared suddenly caught in her throat.
"Senior brother..."
She had barely spoken when Gao Qingxiu glanced over at her indifferently.
"Are you in such a hurry?"
"Uh..."
Lin Feiyan's expression stiffened.
She was, in fact, a little anxious.
More precisely, she was very anxious.
After all, outside this residence, a group of gray-robed cultivators stood alongside the Jieqing Sect disciples.
Their auras were steady, their gazes sinister, and a muted mountain emblem was embroidered on each of their chests.
Though they kept their strength concealed, not a single one was weak.
Lin Feiyan recognized that emblem. They were cultivators from Northern Mang Ridge.
In name, they were vassals of the Jieqing Sect, offering tribute every year and answering the sect's summons when important matters arose.
But a name was only a name, after all.
Once they entered the Immortal-God Cave Abode, with its vast world and