Qingdu was ablaze everywhere as the cultivators' battle spread across the land.
Inside the Imperial Palace, chaos reigned.
The ground was littered with corpses, and the sight was devastating.
Only Chang'an Palace remained as quiet as ever.
"Catastrophic Dharma, is it?"
The ailing Concubine Shu walked out of the courtyard, looking up at the sky, where a cloud of unyielding darkness loomed.
Endless and boundless.
"It's over."
Concubine Shu felt the wind and clouds stirring, clearly sensing the Emperor's Qi dissipating along with Xia Xingchen's death.
She sighed softly and walked toward the cold, icy hall of the courtyard.
In the courtyard, Ju'er and Miao had just finished their work, standing up and forcefully wiping away the blood from the corners of their mouths.
Beside them lay a heap of white bones.
The bloodstains on the bones had not dried, and their black robes had been torn to shreds, scattered on the ground.
"Hey, Master, are we going home?"
