Time passed, and autumn deepened. The yellow leaves covering the sky had all fallen, and all that was left of the ancient trees in Tanzhe Temple were bare trunks and branches.
The path leading into the mountain was still covered in fallen leaves, but after being drenched by the autumn rain that had begun last night, it had lost all its beauty. It was just as vexing as a soaked bedding.
In the end, the wet fallen leaves still had some advantages. When walking on them, they would not make any noise. Borrowing the cover of the gloomy sky and the drizzle, several dozen experts of the Great Zhou Army and even more assassins and spies of the Department for Purging Officials stepped on the wet fallen leaves and noiselessly crossed the mountain path, sneaking into the autumn forest halfway up the mountain.
All the paths leading from Tanzhe Temple to the outside world had been completely controlled. No one could leave.
There was a rustling sound, somewhat crisp and dry. It was like someone was walking on the golden leaves from several days ago, crushing countless withered leaves.
This was not the sound of the leaves shattering, but the autumn wind passing through the curtain of rain and incessantly rustling the paper.
A man walked over from the mountain path, his face covered by a piece of white paper that covered his nose and mouth. Only where his eyes should have been were two black holes, making him seem abnormally terrifying.
Painted Armor Xiao Zhang.
The rain falling from the sky automatically avoided his body. There was not the slightest trace of water on that piece of white paper, clean and dry.
In this age of blooming wildflowers, countless cultivating geniuses and tyrannical experts had appeared. Among them, he was the most terrifying, the most powerful.
Like Xun Mei, he had been invincible his entire life, but he had never defeated Wang Po, not even once. Whether it was in the Boiling Stone Summit or the Proclamation of Liberation, he could only rank second.
But he was not afraid, much less discouraged. He constantly challenged Wang Po, losing and fighting. Even when he suffered a cultivation defect and almost died, his will did not waver in the slightest.
To be under one person was already a very extraordinary position, but he did not want to accept it.
Today, in the desolate autumn rain, he had walked over from the mountain path, naturally intending to fight Wang Po again.
He had never considered whether or not Wang Po would accept, because the experts of the Imperial Court had gathered and surrounded Tanzhe Temple. If Wang Po wanted to leave alive, he first had to defeat him.
He had to defeat him again, or perhaps be defeated by him.
The autumn wind rustled the white paper, carrying with it the sound of withered leaves.
The autumn rain fell on the mountain path, but how could the wet leaves make any sound?
Xiao Zhang did not walk to Tanzhe Temple, because a person had appeared in front of him.
Stepping on wet fallen leaves would indeed not make any sound. Just like that, that person quietly passed through several blockades on the mountain path. Not even Xiao Zhang could sense it in advance.
Who was this person? How could he be so powerful?
That person was dressed in black and allowed the rain to wet him. He gave off an extremely cold and hard feeling.
His clothes, his eyebrows, the lines of his shoulders, his hands behind his back, all seemed to be cast from iron.
Just by standing in front of the mountain path, he separated the autumn rain from the ground, the autumn wind from the white paper, and Tanzhe Temple from the surrounding mountains.
He was like a wall, and it wasn't an ordinary wall made of mud or bricks. It was an iron wall that didn't allow wind to pass through.
Xiao Zhang knew who this person was. The two black holes on the white paper seemed even more serene, and one could faintly see the fanaticism in them.
"You want to stop me?" he asked the man who was like an iron wall.
The man expressionlessly looked at him, as if he felt that Xiao Zhang's words were extremely stupid and not worth replying to.
The entire world knew that Painted Armor Xiao Zhang was a true madman, his way of doing things abnormally violent and arrogant. No one dared to lightly offend him, much less look down on him.
Yet this person had done so, and shockingly, even though the fighting spirit in Xiao Zhang's serene eyes was growing stronger and stronger, in the end … he did not attack.
Xiao Zhang thought of that rumor. Given this person's relationship with the Great Western Continent, there was no reason for him to attack for Wang Po's sake. He asked, "Since it's not him, why are you blocking my way?"
The man replied, "Since I've come, you naturally have to leave. You're no match for him, and I don't want you to alert him."
Xiao Zhang was furious, the white paper on his face flapping.
Suddenly, the autumn wind vanished from his face. He fell silent, because he understood what this person meant.
"This isn't fair to him," Xiao Zhang stared into his eyes.
This person clearly wanted to go to Tanzhe Temple and fight Wang Po.
Xiao Zhang said that this wasn't fair to Wang Po.
This meant that in his view, this person's cultivation was far above Wang Po's. Logically speaking, he should not have lowered himself to fight Wang Po.
Wang Po was a member of the Proclamation of Liberation, and in the eyes of the common people, he was the strongest expert below the Divine Domain. Just who in the world could be said to be stronger than him?
If there really was, then it was assuredly one of those powerful figures of the Divine Domain, those old monsters that could be counted on two hands.
Just who was this person? Which one of the Storms of the Eight Directions was it? Or was it some expert that had lived in seclusion for many years?
Xiao Zhang knew who this person was, so he said that it was unfair, but this did not mean that he feared him.
He seemed to see Wang Po collapsing beneath that ancient tree, his body covered in blood.
He found this somewhat difficult to accept.
Just like Xun Mei, he had spent his entire life trying to surpass Wang Po. He found it impossible to accept that Wang Po would be killed before he had even succeeded.
At this moment, he felt an intense desire to stop this man.
This person could kill Wang Po, Wang Po was stronger than him, yet he wanted to stop him. No matter how he looked at it, this was an extremely crazy idea.
He had always been a very crazy person.
Rain fell on the spear, drenching his hand.
It was Xiao Zhang's hand, very tight, very strong.
"What right do you have to talk to me about fairness?"
The man glanced at Xiao Zhang, his expression indifferent as if he didn't exist.
His shoulder, which was like an iron wall, had been washed by the autumn rain as if it had been polished countless times. It exuded a metallic luster, and then its edge was revealed.
A groan pierced through the white paper.
The autumn rain washed the spear, his fingers turning white.
In the end, Xiao Zhang still did not take out his spear.
Or perhaps it was better to say that he could not take out his spear.
He could only watch as the man walked through the autumn rain towards Tanzhe Temple.
Like an iron wall, his body glowing with a cold light.
… …
… …
Tie Shu, one of the Storms of the Eight Directions.
He was born in the Great Western Continent. When he was young, he had fallen into the sea to escape. Crossing the ocean, he had almost died, but fortunately, he had been saved by a person on the shore. That person was called Guan Xingke.
In the past ten years, he had wandered the Southern Sea, comprehending the Heavenly Dao. Now, he had finally returned.
He comprehended the Heavenly Dao and cultivated the fleshly body, making it incomparably powerful.
The blooming of the iron tree was on par with Bie Yanghong's little red flower, but no one had ever seen it with their own eyes.
He arrived at Tanzhe Temple.
The leaves of the ancient tree had already fallen, leaving a few yellow leaves on the ground, soaking in the rain.
Tie Shu walked to the stone bench, sat down, and closed his eyes.
Just like Wang Po in the last few days.
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