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Li Ximing stood in the fading sunlight as well. He shifted the brocade box from his left hand to his right, weighing it twice. It felt hard to hold, yet he did not want to put it away in his sleeve. Lowering his gaze, he said, "How is it in Jiangbei? How could it be in Jiangbei?"
His pale golden-white Daoist robe fluttered in the dimming light, looking somewhat subdued. He turned the thought over in his mind and murmured, "What if it has succeeded?"
The two watched for a while. Li Zhouwei turned slightly, looking toward Shanji Prefecture. Everything at Grace Covenant Gate lay dim, and Purple Smoke Gate was equally silent. No cultivators rose into the air, nor did anyone come traveling west.
The sky darkened quickly. The two descended silently back to the table as a cold wind swept across the river. Li Ximing set down the brocade box first. He exchanged a glance with Li Zhouwei and simply sipped his tea.
Back then, three from the Kong Family had broken through. After all the twists and...
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