The shock from the day had not yet dissipated.
They watched with their own eyes as the white-robed youth defeated four mages single-handedly, watched as the banners of the Four Gods Sect fell one after another, and watched as those always arrogant priests left in disgrace.
They didn't know exactly how strong the Duke was, but they knew that from today onwards, the Light Sect was no longer the sect that only retreated.
Dali stood in the center of the camp, her golden hair shimmering faintly in the firelight.
She crossed her hands in front of her chest, closed her eyes, her lips moving softly as she chanted a prayer for blessings.
Though Dali's voice was light, it was audible amidst the night breeze, like a gentle stream flowing to every corner of the camp.
The followers of the Light Sect were also praying, the firelight flickering on their faces, illuminating the young and resolute faces in light and shadow.
