Tao Song watched the shine on the lands of the Purple Dragon Sect. Instead of swallows, crows were circling the Thousand Swallows city. Corpse-eaters for corpse-lovers…
She dreaded to imagine how the Netherworld cultivators of the Purple Dragon Sect have defiled the bodies of the fallen that the Tao clan had to leave behind during their retreat. Her fists shook with powerless anger at the thought that she can't do anything to stop it.
Scowling, Tao Song turned away from the city, toward the ragtag group that was left of the Tao clan's proud army. A pitiful dozen of Qi Foundation cultivators, not a single Qi Condensation cultivator besides her—curse the Soul Collector!—and less than a thousand soldiers. All of them looked at her in search of hope.
Tao Song herself lived only because someone had to be in charge. If not her, then who?
