Fellow Daoist! That scoundrel has written a new book again.

Chapter 594 A Predicted Ominous Fate

Wildfires raged across the chaotic south, and countless heretical cultivators fought amongst themselves, plunging the region into utter chaos.

Cultivators unwilling to participate in sect conflicts came here, and in the face of life and death, they dragged one life after another away.

"Save as many as you can."

So hundreds survived, thousands survived, tens of thousands survived...

Thus, beyond grand narratives, in scattered fragments not recorded in historical books, ordinary people, as weak as ants, found a way to survive in this chaotic southern land.

Not only are here here evil practitioners rampant.

Furthermore, numerous sects, both large and small, have secretly dispatched forces to seize power and interests. Now, with the decisive battle between Juque and Licheng, everyone is busy cleaning up the mess and erasing evidence.

A reputable family cannot afford to leave such a stain.

The woodcutter's "infamous reputation" spread throughout the chaotic southern regions, and anyone who killed more than a hundred people was to be executed.

As a result, the act of destroying the body and covering up the evidence began to slow down and was carried out in batches.

Someone is pretending to be dead with their eyes closed.

He was praying to heaven that the monks searching for the living would not find him.

A long sword suddenly stabbed down at him.

He trembled all over, but a voice came to his ears—

"Don't move."

Muddy tears rolled down onto the ground.

He heard the cultivator shout loudly, "Uncle-Master, the investigation here is complete!"

The cultivator addressed as "Uncle-Master" seemed to be dozing off, negligently carrying out the sect's task of eliminating any potential threats.

Upon hearing reports from all directions, he lazily stood up and said:

"Let's set it on fire and then leave."

Flames burned, and the man, who was pretending to be dead with his eyes tightly closed, remained motionless.

He heard someone, unable to bear the burning flames, leap up, only to have their throat slit cleanly, leaving behind only their dying screams.

The immortal departed on his sword.

The man trembled as he stood up from the flames.

In his hometown, which had become a mass grave, among the fewer than one hundred corpses that were being disposed of in batches, a dozen or so people still managed to rise from the flames.

In a state of chaos and disorder.

Some people are ruthless and leave no room for future trouble, while others, amidst their malice, even feel a pang of pity.

He didn't know whether to hate or be grateful. He had never been to school and knew nothing about education. All he knew was that he had survived.

The Juque School.

The three sects have integrated their cultivators and are attempting to breach the Juque Sect, which lacks sufficient defenses. There are only a few Nascent Soul stage elders left here.

However, they were all cultivators carefully selected by Fu Shan, who were willing to live and die with the Juque Sect.

The elders were on high alert.

With the meager strength remaining within the sect, they stubbornly resisted. Outside the sect, greedy hyenas tore at the formation, eager to divide up the Juque Sect's treasure trove.

The elders maintaining the formation are the last line of defense for the crumbling Juque Sect.

Human nature is subtle and complex, making it difficult to distinguish between good and evil, loyalty and treachery. In times of chaos and disorder, there are always many unbelievable choices.

These people may well have been the driving force behind the downfall of the Juque School.

But when faced with a dead end—

Array Master.

They also had the will to charge into battle.

Wu Wei's mind was no longer controlled by Fu Shan. He was clearer than ever before. If the Giant Sword was destroyed, low-level cultivators could scatter like birds.

But people like him don't have the option of "abandoning darkness and embracing the light".

Wu Wei channeled spiritual energy to maintain the formation's operation, and there were more than a dozen fellow disciples beside him.

Silent yet resolute.

When the three sects breached the Juque Sect and stormed into the treasure vault, it was at that moment that Wu Wei and his group detonated the entire sect, turning it into ruins and tombs.

The ambition to be trapped in a battle will lead to death but not life.

All those who kick someone when they're down will be buried with the giant sword.

If Fu Shan wins, the Great Palace can be rebuilt from the ruins; if she loses, the Great Palace's foundation will not be given to the shameless scoundrels of the three sects.

These monks upheld the last vestige of dignity for the sect.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Between the present and the dream world.

Wildflowers bloom everywhere, and streams murmur.

Hua Yingting, with flowers falling from her hair, is holding a book and telling fairy tales to the children.

She tells stories of brave young swordsmen roaming the world, of hardworking farmers harvesting golden rice in their fields, and of how hemp is woven into cloth...

"Sister Hua, when the carriage arrives and takes me away, I will brew the finest wine in the world, and I will let Sister Hua drink the first cup!"

"I want to weave the softest fabric and tailor the most comfortable clothes for Sister Hua!"

"Sister Hua, when will the carriage come? When will I grow up?"

"I don't want to leave. I want to be a teacher like Sister Hua..."

Hua Yingting was extremely beautiful, adorned with flowers and gold and silver. Now, with a gentle smile, she is the most beautiful woman in the world in the hearts of countless children.

She has completely forgotten the years.

A dream in the Great Luo Heaven changed the human world and the Jianghu. I wonder if the pink lotuses in the pond will still be in full bloom when I wake up, and if my old friends will still be there.

Unlike the lush and vibrant spring scenery in the dream, outside the dream lies a dark and cold cave hidden in the abyss, surrounded by poisonous barriers.

In the oppressive cave.

Someone was guarding outside the protective barrier.

Behind Xu San'er, Hua Yingting and many children slept peacefully.

He held a candle in his hands, and beside him was a dilapidated carriage. With that faint light, he fought against the endless darkness.

There is no wind here.

With each breath, the firelight flickered gently, without making a sound.

He will stay here until dawn, and then take the children out by carriage.

Those who dream have no regrets, nor do those who squander their wealth.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The wind whistled in my ears.

May you travel freely without invitation.

She dared not stop, just as Zhu Wuyao had waited in the mine back then, and Ye Xiaozhou had gone alone to steal the purple energy. Day and night, the weight of her life was on her shoulders.

The wind howled, her hair flew wildly, but Zhu Wuyao felt no hatred or resentment. Instead, she was grateful to the orphan of Queshan for giving her the opportunity to face her destiny.

The wind ahead carried the scent of blood.

Further away in Licheng, the blood of comrades spilled on their bodies, appearing even more intense under the fiery sunset.

A hoarse roar came from his throat, low and deep, resonating with the tattered battle flag.

The dark storm dried the blood foam, which rushed towards us and choked us, resonating in our chests along with the breaths of our comrades and enemies.

The setting sun dipped below the horizon.

The orange-red glow of the sunset fell on the broken walls and ruins. The spilled blood dried and darkened, resembling stains on the city wall under the wind and sand.

Just as Fu Shan had hoped, and just as Song Kezi had predicted.

She is coming.

When this great battle was about to end, when the people of Licheng were walking heavily, when the cultivators of the Juque Sect were running out of spiritual energy, and when the red bird, battling the raging wind and rain, spread its wings and fought against Fushan.

Zhu Wu has come.

She saw the crimson moon, shining brightly against the setting sun, hanging high in the sky, casting an ominous, blood-red light.

She heard the sound of a knife being sharpened.

This is Ye Xiaozhou's "great misfortune".

The divination indicates a very bad omen.

Every battle is an ominous sign.

Zhu Wuyao slowly drew his bladeless sword—

Try to catch the moon's reflection in the water.

Go and scoop up this high-hanging red moon from the vast ocean of fate.

Even if the hope is slim, even if the odds are one in a billion, even if we give up all our illusionary bodies.

Try to catch the moon's reflection in the water.

Go and rescue Ye Xiaozhou.