People turned to look. A tall man in martial attire and a black cloak was striding toward the lakeshore, surrounded by officers of the Golden Guards. His eyes searched the center of the lake with anxious anger, but like everyone else, he could see none of the three figures.
On Green Splendor Terrace, Fu Zhiyun looked that way, then suddenly tilted her head and whispered, "Junfang, isn't that your father?"
In the direction she pointed, a man nearing fifty, fully armored, followed solemnly half a step behind the tall man.
"...Yes."
"Then doesn't that make this man... General Yang Juhu?"
"..."
It was indeed Yang Juhu of the Jinwu Guards, a third-rank official who commanded the Left Jinwu Guards and oversaw the military affairs of the various commands. Even in the Divine Capital, his was a position of truly formidable power. Clearly, he had not had time to don his armor, and had hurried over with only a cloak thrown on. Now he stared intently at the battle nearing its end.
Amid the commotion on the southern shore, the flames on that enormous Blessing Ship suddenly dimmed, silencing everyone for a moment.
Only in the next instant did they realize that the fire was not going out-all the flames were surging madly inward.
People watched this seemingly miraculous sight in speechless astonishment. Silence reigned along the shore until a figure burst through the top of the Blessing Ship and shot into the sky.
It was an ugly, trembling wreck of a body.
There was no telling how many places had been pierced through or charred black. Blood and clothing had burned into one mass, an entire arm was gone, and stark white bones lay exposed in several places.
The cold winter rain poured over him, raising billowing white steam. Only