In the Gallery of Shili, the atmosphere had become much heavier without anyone knowing when.
Everything felt so oppressive.
The black-robed monk lay on the ground, his eyes filled with despair. The once calm and collected expression now looked ferocious beyond measure, as if he were enduring immense pain.
At his brow, the incense still burned fiercely, so intense and scorching.
This was the flame he had longed for since awakening, hoping his divine soul would grow stronger, but now, it had become a death warrant for him.
He could even feel clearly that, in not too much time, the searing flames would devour the entire incense, and by then, his death would be certain, without any chance of survival.
...
On Mount Xianglu, in another mountain range, there was also a pavilion atop a peak.
Ancient and elegant, the environment was serene.
Surrounded by maple trees and many other trees planted for appreciation...
...the view here became more and more beautiful, more and more grand.
