The fierce wind swept up snow, obscuring the view.
By now, night had fallen. In the dense fog, the Qingyang Palace had no lights or sounds, like a monster lurking in the darkness, eerily silent.
What Li Yan and the others didn't know was that just an hour ago, people from the Qingcheng Sect outside the dense fog array saw the Qingyang Palace still brightly lit, with gongs and drums resounding.
The current state clearly indicated something had happened.
The procession of the Flower God didn't just include them; passing down the street, it also attracted a crowd of frenzied citizens, at least a thousand.
Though they were already insane, they retained a trace of memory, and instinctively followed the annual Flower God Procession.
Holding torches, they were quite boisterous.
As the procession in front halted, these blood-red-eyed citizens instantly became restless; some wanted to rush forward, some fought among themselves.
