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A tattered robe snapped in the high wind.
A sharp-featured man skimmed through the air, covering miles in the blink of an eye, then slipped past the third gate of the Holy Tree Temple.
The wardens on the ramparts dropped to one knee as he went by, but he didn’t spare them a glance. His destination lay dead ahead. It was the White Bamboo Hanging Bell Tower at the very heart of the compound.
The tower had an outer block and an inner sanctum. The outer floors were where direct disciples like Ping'an trained.
Only two people were ever allowed inside the core. That was Gu Xuejian in one wing, and Qing Hancheng in the other. Qing Hancheng’s chamber faced the fourth rank meat field, the prime vein of blood essence in all the Holy Tree...
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