In the darkness that shrouded the sky, what were those people in the mountains facing? What to do next?
Without the slightest hesitation, Mao Qiuyu lightly waved his sleeves and instantly traveled several li, heading towards the mountain path. Linghai Zhiwang's face was ashen as he transformed into a stream of light and followed. With a flip of his right hand, he gripped a dazzling pestle of light.
Just as the Elder of Heavenly Secrets had calculated, these two Prefects of the Orthodoxy had been ordered by the Pope to escort Chen Changsheng. As expected, they each carried a precious treasure!
Yet they found it impossible to take a single step onto the mountain path. They were forced to stop in front of the memorial arch of the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets.
It was not because of the darkness, but because countless stones had suddenly fallen from the sky above the mountains.
These stones were densely packed together like a massive net, completely enveloping all of Mount Han and exuding an extremely powerful Qi.
These stones were not ordinary stones, but Heavenstones of the same origin as the Heavenly Tome Monoliths!
These Heavenstones formed an array of terrifying power. Even the strongest expert of the Divine Domain would find it impossible to break this Heavenstone array in a short amount of time. Although they had powerful cultivations and carried the precious treasures of the Orthodoxy, they still found it impossible to charge into Mount Han.
Then those people in Mount Han … what about that person?
… …
… …
The Heavenstones rose from the Heaven Lake, from the grass and cliffs by the lake, from the Elder of Heavenly Secrets's fingertips.
The Elder of Heavenly Secrets sat by the lake, the wrinkles on his face instantly multiplying, making him seem even older. However, his finger was still steady, incessantly writing something in the mist over the water. He was calculating, and at the same time, he was laying down an array. His body exuded an extremely powerful Qi.
Several thousand Heavenstones flew to various parts of the mountains, floating in the air. Under the pitch-black curtain of night, they seemed to appear like stars, sealing off an area of five hundred li.
This was Mount Han, his place.
Even if the middle-aged scholar that had come to Mount Han today was the strongest opponent he had encountered in his one thousand years of cultivation, he was still confident that he could fight a battle with him.
The Heavenstones floating in the night sky weaved into a net. The very center of this net of stone was at the bend of the mountain path, by the stream, in front of the persimmon forest.
It was right above the middle-aged scholar's head.
That middle-aged scholar raised his head to look at the night sky and the dozens of celestial stones in his line of sight. His expression was still indifferent and didn't seem to be moved at all.
In the distant lake on the summit, the Elder of Heavenly Secrets swayed. The wrinkles on his face did not increase, but they deepened.
The middle-aged scholar looked at the peak and said expressionlessly, "Tianji, you want to trap me with such a simple formation?"
His voice was like a clap of thunder, exploding between the mountains.
The cultivators who stood in front of Chen Changsheng were shaken. Some of the weaker cultivators even threw away the swords in their hands and covered their ears in pain.
These scenes were vaguely visible in the mist on the lake at the summit.
The Elder of Heavenly Secrets gazed at the scene in the fog and said, "If you can't trap it for a lifetime, you have to trap it for a while."
The middle-aged scholar smiled and said, "Then you don't care about the lives of these juniors?"
The Elder of Heavenly Secrets replied, "If you don't even care about your own life and death, who else can I care about?"
These two supreme experts were separated by at least a hundred-some li, yet they seemed to be talking face to face.
Hearing these two simple words, the human cultivators and demi-human experts that had originally been filled with hope upon hearing the Elder of Heavenly Secrets' voice instantly fell into despair once more.
The people of the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets sitting cross-legged in the pavilion on the summit revealed expressions of reluctance, but they had nothing to say.
If the Elder of Heavenly Secrets were to use his full strength, he still wouldn't be able to save those people on the mountain path and by the stream, but perhaps he could ensure that not all of them would die.
But in that case, the Elder of Heavenly Secrets would have no way of maintaining the Heavenstone array that sealed off the five hundred li of Mount Han.
Those people that entered Mount Han were very important, the future of humanity. However, if they could seal that middle-aged scholar in Mount Han for a little longer, waiting for the experts of the human world to rush over and kill him, then … humanity would assuredly welcome an incomparably beautiful future.
In the short time it took for the Elder of Heavenly Secrets to discover the middle-aged scholar's tracks, he had made forty-some calculations and finally made his choice.
If the deaths of those people could be exchanged for the death of the most terrifying enemy of the human world, then this was a worthy death.
Even if one of those people was the future Pope.
The Elder of Heavenly Secrets believed that if those people knew of the middle-aged scholar's identity, they would also make the same choice as him.
… …
… …
The Ten Thousand Years Pavilion was a famous landmark of Western Tomb, its collection of books extremely abundant. A scribe was standing by the bookshelf, his hands holding a book as he read. This person was dressed in an ordinary long gown. The only thing unusual about him was the red flower tied to his little finger. This flower was very red, a very beautiful red, and also very special. It was not like any other red that was commonly seen. It had a different kind of beauty to it.
The scribe's expression was very calm, seemingly very focused on his book. However, the red flower lightly trembling on his little finger indicated that his current mood was not as calm as it seemed on the surface. Perhaps it was because curses would occasionally come from outside the pavilion. The Ten Thousand Years Pavilion was a quiet and scenic spot. Who dared to curse outside? And who dared to curse at this scribe?
The person cursing outside the pavilion was an old Daoist nun. In her hand was a half-bald horsetail whisk, already half-bald. It was actually Wuqiong Bi, who had been driven out of the capital by the Tianhai Divine Empress.
The scribe heard the curses coming from outside the pavilion and could no longer maintain his calm. His brow furrowed deeper and deeper, and finally, he sighed and prepared to say something. At this moment, a faint ripple suddenly came from the eastern sky outside the Ten Thousand Years Pavilion.
The scribe's expression subtly changed. His body swayed and he vanished from the bookshelf. In the next moment, he was outside the pavilion. The old Daoist nun saw that the scribe had finally appeared and inwardly felt proud, but her face was still filled with loathing. She looked at him and said, "Your son doesn't care, but does your wife also not care!"
The scribe ignored her. He continued to stare into the blue sky to the northeast, his complexion very unsightly.
The old Daoist nun was enraged and extended her hand to grab him.
The scribe snorted coldly and angrily flicked his sleeve. Then, he lightly stepped on a lotus leaf in the lotus pond in front of the pavilion. His body suddenly vanished into the air.
The old Daoist nun heavily fell to the ground, her cheeks red and swollen.
She covered her face in a daze. Ever since her marriage, she had never suffered such treatment.
Just when she was prepared to let loose a torrent of curses, she finally sensed something strange in the sky. Her face paled and her heart instantly palpitated.
At this moment, she only hoped that she had not delayed the moment her husband had flicked his sleeve.
… …
… …
The Myriad Willows Garden outside Hanqiu City was still scorched earth. Although some time had passed, no tender maidens had been reborn.
Zhu Luo stood by the lake, silently gazing at the ruined scenery before him.
In the last few days, he had been handling the affairs of the Zhu clan and the Emotion-Severing Sect, at the same time waiting for the day Wang Po returned to Tianliang County. His mind was somewhat exhausted.
A man wearing a bamboo hat stood at his side. It was none other than the Storms of the Eight Directions, Guan Xingke.
Suddenly, a patch of black ash fell on the edge of the bamboo hat. Guan Xingke faintly sensed it and looked to the eastern horizon. He suddenly saw that the sea of clouds several thousand li away had darkened somewhat.
"Something's happened."
"You go."
"Okay."
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