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Edited by: Michyrr

Bie Yanghong had never met Wang Zhice. However, many years ago, he had spent a night in the Lingyan Pavilion and carefully scrutinized that portrait under the light of the White Sun Flame for a very long time. Perhaps it was also because Wang Zhice could only be Wang Zhice. Whatever the reason, when he saw the scholar, he recognized him.

Three years ago, Chen Changsheng had met Wang Zhice in Mount Han, but for various reasons, he had not told many people. In reality, however, many people knew that Wang Zhice was still alive. It was just that he was wandering the world and incredibly difficult to track down. Of course, those people were all important people like Bie Yanghong.

Although they were all important personages of the present world, they would still feel shocked and honored to personally lay eyes on Wang Zhice, and Bie Yanghong was no exception.

His voice trembled as he asked, "Lord Wang?"

Wang Zhice did not reply.

Bie Yanghong calmed his mind and walked to the nearby lakeshore. Pointing at the traces of battle, he voiced his analysis and reenactment of the battle.

Wang Zhice still said nothing, only calmly gazed at a place amongst the snowy pines, seemingly lost in thought.

Bie Yanghong recalled that rumor and could not help but ask, "Your Excellency, the demons advance south so wantonly; does Your Excellency still not intend to act?"

There was a small mound in the forest, with a little snow still on top of it. It appeared very lonely and desolate.

The Demon Lord had died there and was still within.

Wang Zhice knew, but he was not prepared to tell anyone, not prepared to do anything to the remains of his old friend.

It was just like that person buried beneath the Orthodox Academy.

Entrust his body to become one with the mountain1.

Those who should pass away had to pass away eventually.

Regardless of how much you struggle, or if you construct a mausoleum for yourself that stretches to the sky, you will still become an unremarkable mound in the world of mortals.

The Demon Lord was finally dead.

His Majesty and Big Brother had already died many years ago.

Wang Zhice thought of many matters from the past, many old friends, and he was filled with great sorrow.

He shook his head and prepared to leave.

Bie Yanghong gazed at his melancholy figure and urged, "His Majesty Taizong treated you poorly, but the common people love and respect you. Can Your Excellency bear to give them up?"

Of the Storms of the Eight Directions, Wang Zhice liked Bie Yanghong the most. He only felt that his choice of partner was truly disastrous. When he heard this person’s persuasions, he smiled and thought to himself that he should advise Bie Yanghong to divorce his wife instead, but when the words left his mouth, they turned into a sigh.

Just what right did he have to advise others in this aspect?

......

......

In the snowy plain a thousand li away, the river of stars in the night gradually revealed its true appearance.

Black Robe gazed at the snowy mountains as if he had seen his old friend.

The wind stirred, cold and bleak, ruffling his hood and revealing a corner of his face.

His skin was suffused with the sickly faint green of death, yet it could not hide its absolute beauty. Upon seeing it, one could not help but speculate as to just how peerless and magnificent it was all those years ago.

The Demon Lord was also looking towards the mountains, a wildfire blazing within his serene eyes. He seemed particularly interested, even excited.

"The visitor really is Wang Zhice? It’s truly a pity that We could not see such a legendary figure."

The Demon Lord’s voice was slightly hoarse as he said, "If he pursues, then it’s fine. We will certainly take a good look before tearing him limb from limb."

It could be said without question that Wang Zhice was the most terrifying foe the Demon race had encountered in all its history.

The history books of Xuelao City were filled with records concerning him.

In the rankings of the Demon race’s most hated foes, he was ranked even higher than Emperor Taizong.

Starting from a thousand years ago and persisting to the present, several centuries since the last news concerning Wang Zhice, the demons still hoped that Wang Zhice was still alive. They did not want that man to die of old age, as only if he was alive could he see humanity’s defeat, could they tear his body limb from limb.

From a certain perspective, the Demon Lord’s words should have been expected. The problem was that if Wang Zhice really did pursue, just what sort of confidence did just he and Black Robe alone have to defeat Wang Zhice, prevent him from escaping, and then tear his body into pieces?

A heavy boom rose as the snowy plain trembled.

A Mountain-toppling Fiend several dozen zhang high slowly walked out as if it had been residing in the void this entire time.

Nestled in the Mountain-toppling Fiend’s massive coiled horns sat a thin and cross-legged figure. This figure was covered all over in armor that was patterned with sunflowers formed from golden threads, and studded with green gems that simultaneously gave off a gorgeous yet rotten feeling. None of this, however, could snatch away any of the cold light in this figure’s eyes.

She was the strongest figure of the Demon Army: the Demon Commander.

She had been hiding in this snowy plain the entire time.

Ten-some mountainous black figures followed behind her, all of them Demon Generals.

The forces the demons had arranged tonight were truly enough to kill any expert in the world, even a legendary one. Several years ago, outside Xuelao City, Su Li was almost ground to death when confronting a similar array of forces. Fortunately, Chen Changsheng had delivered a sword across ten thousand li, allowing him to eventually escape, but he had still suffered horrendous injuries.

A sigh filled with regret oozed out of the Demon Commander’s armor.

The Demon Generals behind her felt the same.

The starlight illuminated Black Robe’s lower jaw, somewhat dispersing the sickly green, leaving behind only the beautiful pale white.

"Although that person still lives, he is already dead," Black Robe said, his eyes still fixed on the mountains.

His voice was utterly devoid of emotion, but all the demons present could hear the thick scorn in it, and even a sliver of extremely deep loathing.

In the center of the Demon Commander’s rust-covered armor was a somewhat shabby round breast protector, embedded into the armor with the purest of crystal.

She extended a fur-covered hand and extracted an item wrapped in cloth from within the breast protector.

It was very obvious that she was filled with nothing but loathing for the item wrapped in the cloth. She was not willing to keep the object in her hand for long and threw it straight to the ground.

The bundle thumped against the snow, and then it unleashed a string of almost pathetic yet also piercing curses.

"It truly does deserve to be called the ancestral hall of the southern religion with deep resources. Even after being killed twice by Su Li, the Longevity Sect was still able to conceal such an insidious and powerful move."

The Demon Commander’s voice was sharp and unpleasant. "But its Dao was somewhat defective. I invited the Shadow Talisman Master of the Council of Elders to remodel it somewhat, so it should be much easier to use now."

Even after being thrown from several dozen zhang high down onto the cold snow, the object within did not appear injured. It continuously struggled, looking a little like some small beast.

The Demon Lord’s gaze fell on the item, a look of disgust appearing on his face. Upon hearing about the Shadow Talisman Master of the Council of Elders, he seemed a little fearful. In his eyes, this item was born a monster, and now that it had been remodeled, it was now soaked through and through in a bloody and bizarre scent.

"Return to the south and complete your task. If Chen Changsheng is still alive, remember to kill him a few more times."

A hemp rope shining with a golden light fell in the Demon Lord’s palm and the bundle on the snow unwrapped.

A black silhouette leapt out and instantly lunged several dozen zhang away.

Under the starlight, one could see that it was a small human, but its body was covered in extremely dark fur. It was somewhat similar to the appearance demi-humans took when not completely transformed. However, when it stared at something, a flash of madness would flit across its sluggish eyes as if it were some beast that suffered endless torment.

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1. A famous line from the last of the ’Three Dirges’ by Tao Yuanming, a poet who lived during China’s Six Dynasties period. The full line is, ’what else is there to say of the dead, entrust the body to become one with the mountain.’