Snow drifted down from the sky above the capital, and so did the Road of Peace.
Not many people knew that these snowflakes came from an ice storm at the Heavenly Dao Academy.
All the gates of the princely estates were tightly shut, and not a single sound could be heard. The Prince of Xiang's estate was as quiet as a tomb.
Those snowflakes flew over the high walls of the princely estate and landed in a place where the priests of the Li Palace could not see, but they did not land on the ground.
There were countless gusts of wind behind the wall, constantly blowing the soft snow.
Hundreds of cultivators and soldiers armed with divine crossbows. Standing in the garden and courtyard of the Prince of Xiang's estate, the only thing separating him from the black sea of priests was a wall.
They did not make any sound and maintained absolute silence. Thus, the sound of breathing became clear.
The clearer it was, the heavier it was. The shorter it was, the more nervous it was.
The light snow of early spring from the sky could not fall to the ground because of these silent, enigmatic, and heavy breaths.
Prince Chen Liu stood by the window, looking at his subordinates in the garden, silently thinking about these matters.
The snow kept dancing outside the window, and his face was a little pale.
It was because he was tired, and it had nothing to do with unease.
At a time like this, there was no need to regret anything.
He turned to look at the Daoists in green.
The three azure-robed Daoists looked at the white-haired old Daoist.
This old Daoist was a true expert of the Daoist faith, already half a step into the Divine many years ago.
Other than Minister Wei of the Tang clan, the blind zither player, and several secret figures of the great clans and sects of the south, no one else could compare to him.
But not even he was confident that he could defend the Prince of Xiang's estate.
Not at all.
He was keenly aware that if the Li Palace decided to attack with all its strength, only the entire army of the Great Zhou Imperial Court could stop this raging tide.
The old Taoist said to Prince Chen Liu, "Let's go."
Prince Chen Liu's face became even paler, but his expression remained calm. "I cannot abandon these subordinates who are loyal to me and Father," he said.
The old Taoist said expressionlessly, "I'll stay here to block them. You and the three Martial Nephews go first."
Prince Chen Liu didn't expect the other party to be willing to take the risk and was stunned.
The old Taoist walked to the window, ignored him, and slowly closed his eyes.
A gentle breeze swirled up the snow, which landed on the wrinkled face. Her white hair fluttered in the wind, making her look somewhat touching.
Seeing this scene, Prince Chen Liu's eyes became slightly moist. He wanted to say something, but in the end, he didn't say anything.
In the shortest time possible, he regained his composure, bowed to the old Taoist, and turned around without hesitation.
From the window to the center of the parlor, the bluestone floor sank, forming a stone staircase leading underground.
Prince Chen Liu and the three azure-robed Daoists followed the stone steps underground.
It was dark ahead, and no one knew where it led.
Suddenly, the lamp on the stone wall lit up automatically, illuminating the ground not far in front of them.
The floor was a little wet, and there was some moss in the corner of the wall. It was unknown how many years it had not been cleaned.
The light fell on Prince Chen Liu's face.
He was very calm.
No tears could be seen in his eyes.
There was no emotion on his face.
Those were all meaningless.
He had always believed so.
The battle that followed would be meaningless.
He didn't care if the old Taoist from the Monastery of Eternal Spring could leave alive or die in battle.
He only needed to know that this old Daoist would assuredly cause the experts of the Li Palace to suffer enormous losses.
It didn't matter if the family warriors and experts in the mansion surrendered or died in battle.
He had never doubted the loyalty and passion of these people, but these people had never been the true trump cards of the Prince of Xiang's estate.
The true strength of the Prince of Xiang's estate would never appear in the capital today.
Because his judgment was very similar to Chen Changsheng's. He believed that the Mausoleum of Books simply could not be fought.
It was not yet time for the final battle, but many people would still die today.
He needed to ensure that his life would not be threatened, so he had to leave.
He would use this gloomy tunnel to appear on the shore of the Luo River and then leave the capital.
On the outskirts of the capital, those several hundred black-armored cavalry had been waiting for him for a very long time.
He would bring these black-armored cavalry to Hanqiu City, where he would rendezvous with his most loyal subordinates, the army, and the descendants of the Zhu clan.
When the time came, what should he do first? Issue an official declaration? Or first poison the trash of the Zhu clan to death?
If it were Emperor Taizong, what would he do?
Poison them to death would be too conspicuous. It would be better to put them under house arrest until he ascended to the throne.
As he thought of these things, a hint of a smile appeared in the depths of his eyes, illuminated by the lantern light.
The three azure-robed Daoists were behind him, so they naturally could not see it.
His father was an expert of the Divine Domain, so he naturally did not need to worry about his safety.
Even if the venerable Daoist lost, neither Xu Yourong nor Chen Changsheng were vicious and merciless people, so they naturally would not act against the concubines and brothers of the princely estate.
Prince Chen Liu felt like he had thought of everything, considered everything, calculated everything.
But he did not think of his new wife, Ping, or even of this matter itself.
He also did not calculate that someone was waiting for him in this gloomy tunnel.
… …
… …
In this quiet tunnel, any sound would be particularly clear.
Like the sound of water flowing underground, or the sound of ants crawling through the walls.
The two Daoist nuns opened their eyes.
Footsteps could be heard up ahead, coming from the Prince of Xiang's estate.
Huai Shu glanced at her senior sister.
Huai Ren had an indifferent expression.
Suddenly, the faint rays of light in front of them began to strangely refract.
It was like the space there had been warped.
What sort of power could make space so noiselessly warp?
Huai Shu sensed this Qi and asked in shock, "What is this thing?"
Huai Ren slightly raised her brows and said in surprise, "Even His Holiness the Pope has moved?"
… …
… …
When the space in the tunnel began to warp, a similar scene occurred in the sky.
The dim light of the sky was scattered everywhere, clearly illuminating the Prince of Xiang's estate.
An indescribable pressure descended from the distant sky to the ground.
The snowstorm suddenly became berserk.
A black dragon claw tore through the clouds and slowly descended.
The dragon claw was like a black mountain, the scales on it like gloomy windows, exuding a terrifying Qi.
The family guards and experts could no longer maintain their composure, and they began to shout in panic.
The white-haired old Daoist suddenly opened his eyes, a sharp light bursting out of them.
A clear light enveloped the Prince of Xiang's estate. This was a very powerful defensive array.
The old Daoist looked up at the sky and coldly shouted, "Evil creature, die!"
Before he could finish speaking, the Dao Sword flew out, transforming into an extremely mournful ray of light. It pierced through the thick clouds and slashed at some unknown place!
He knew that his opponent today was very powerful, but he was still fearless.
This attack condensed his entire life's cultivation and was already infinitely close to the Divine Domain. Coupled with the estate's array, as long as his opponent was not yet of age, he would assuredly return wounded!
But he had no idea that his true opponent today was not in the depths of the snowstorm, but in the Prince of Xiang's estate.
When he concentrated all his spirit and spirit into that sword, that person also moved.
This person stood in a corner, his shoulders drooping, a seemingly ordinary sword loosely tied to his waist.
At some point, his slender fingers had gripped the hilt of his sword, appearing exceptionally steady and harmonious.
If someone saw this sight, they would even think that it was an illusion.
His hand and sword had always been one.
How could there be a sword faster than this?
A sword glow flashed and then vanished.
It was like a firework, a short-lived flower.
Two holes appeared in the two brick walls.
The tip of a sword pierced through the blue Daoist robe, bringing with it blood. (To be continued.)
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