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In Great Wei, along the eastern coast of the Central Plains, lay Pinghao City.
In the depths of winter, the annual year-end festivities arrived once more, and the entire city brimmed with lively celebration—all kinds of sacrificial rites and worship ceremonies emerged one after another. Firecrackers started going off before dawn and did not cease until deep into the night.
The festivity belonged to those with friends or family. For a lone man like Lin Zheyu, whether it was a holiday or not made no difference at all.
Within a courtyard in the outskirts of the city, formation flags had been planted all around the perimeter, creating an isolating formation. Now that he had sufficient spirit stones, Lin Zheyu had purchased quite a number of highly practical auxiliary dharma artifacts and formation arts.
The endless crackling of firecrackers from outside drowned out the sharp hiss of saber light slicing through the air within the courtyard. Beads of sweat the size of beans rolled down Lin Zheyu's forehead as his chest rose and fell violently, his breathing heavy like a bellows. Every muscle in his body trembled faintly, yet the movements of his hands remained perfectly...
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