Compared to the bloodshed raging outside.
Wind-Listening River had been rather peaceful these past few days.
Drops of water gathered beneath the eaves struck the bluestone slabs one by one. A seam split open in the clouds to the east, and light poured through it, falling over the rain-soaked roof tiles of the city and steaming up a pale white mist.
In the center of what had once been the county town, a large open space had now been cleared, with dozens of long benches laid out.
The Demon Suppression Office's elite, the cultivators of the Elixir Cauldron Sect, and even Old Red Flood Dragon and several other demons were crammed into a corner, craning their necks to look ahead.
Zi Ling sat cross-legged above them, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers as she spoke of cultivation.
Everyone below the platform held their breath.
In truth, they had heard scattered fragments of these things back in Great Tang, but no one had ever been able to explain them clearly.
Today, someone was finally laying it all out from beginning to end.
Yet as these matters gradually became clearer in their minds, their spirits slowly sank.
Until Zi Ling's words gradually trailed off, when a young Demon-Suppression Guard in the crowd finally could not help asking, "If that is so, then how far can we cultivate in this life?"
Zi Ling tilted her head and looked over.
After studying him for a while, she ultimately did not say anything too harsh and merely tossed away the grass stem in her hand.
"Depends on fate."
In fact, there was no need to look to fate at all.
The beings from the painting had been fortunate enough to move into this world. Even if they could use the dense spiritual energy