Every now and then, the ice floating in the meander of the river would crash into the bank and leave marks of varying depths. There was a dark yellow tent that towered over this section of the river. The soil and the river in this area emanated a dark bloody glow as if they were formed out of bloody sediment that piled on over the years.
Ever since the followers of the Ashura Temple began living in the "Yellow Tent", the place started reeking of blood and killing intent. The grassland experts were all unwilling to approach them, resulting in the vast empty space around their tent.
Meng Qi had a brocade draped over his shoulders and a wooden hairpin fastening his hair. In his eyes contained a touch of the vicissitudes of life and a sophisticated maturity but his pale face harbored a hint of madness. It was as if he would go insane at any time. With his hands clasped behind him, he slowly walked toward the Yellow Tent.
