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Atop an ancient tree towering roughly a thousand meters from Mountain Foot, leaves and branches trembled softly, as though whispering of the gathering storm.
Shen Tianjun's gentle voice, with its hidden edge, drifted out as though from beyond the highest heavens. "Xueqi has made her move. It's time to draw in the net."
Lu Xueying's brows knitted slightly, resolve flashing through her eyes. "My sister and Ahong can certainly stop that bastard, the Peng Emperor. We should finish this quickly, lest a long night bring more troubling dreams."
Leng Qingqiu stood with her hands behind her back, her robes whiter than snow, looking all the more aloof and cold in the still night.
She nodded slightly, her cool words falling like drops from an icy spring. "Then let us act. No more delays."
All three now wore masks over their faces, hiding their features and leaving only their eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness.
Then they donned black cloaks.
In an instant, they rose on their swords, swift as lightning, and became three streaks of light racing toward the war-torn battlefield below Mountain Foot.
Sword light cleaved the sky, leaving brilliant trails like blades tearing through the darkness.
When only two or three hundred meters remained between them and the battlefield, all three checked their momentum and came to a steady halt.
Leng Qingqiu stood proudly at the front, her white robes fluttering, her figure ethereal as dust.
Lu Xueying and Shen Tianjun flanked her, forming seals with their hands as they poured an unbroken stream of their soul power into her body.
"Dustbound Cloud Tome!" Leng Qingqiu's low cry reverberated across the wilderness.
A massive magic formation appeared behind the three of them in an instant, blazing with light. Its brilliance shone