With two brief flutters, the feather-light paper instantly turned into scraps and drifted out the window.
The White Robed Pavilion Master watched the paper scraps scatter and vanish, a hint of icy coldness flashing in his eyes.
Then, he flicked his sleeve. His figure vanished abruptly, turning into a phantom-like white shadow that swept into the Imperial City, heavily guarded by its northern red walls.
Faintly, a highly suppressed, low voice echoed within the empty Quiet Chamber: "If one is blindly indifferent to fame and fortune, how could they possibly grow into a giant Roc that obscures the sun and sky?"
Ten thousand miles away.
Shu State.
The rain, which had poured relentlessly for three days, finally stopped as the Mid-Autumn Festival approached. Although dark clouds still loomed overhead, the sun could now be seen peeking from behind them. It beat down like a furnace, causing temperatures to steadily rise across all of Shu State beneath its blanket of clouds.
