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Moon Mountain.

From above, it resembled a crescent moon. After the Xia Imperial Family granted this land for Liu Zixiu’s tomb, the surrounding feng shui was modified, allowing the entire mountain to complement the nearby Imperial Mausoleum.

The mountain was covered in vast pine forests, keeping it green year-round. Except for the mausoleum at the summit, most of the mountain had always been open to the public. For the last few hundred years, countless scholars and artists had left their mark here. The mountain’s most famous sight was a great waterfall on its southern face, oriented toward the east.

The waterfall’s source was the Nong River, meaning the mountain also served to buffer the topographical differences between the north and south. When True Yang Mountain still stood, the convection between the northern and southern air currents kept the surrounding area perpetually humid. Furthermore, the region experienced significant temperature variations throughout the year, creating a highly complex ecosystem. Though unsuitable for living, it was perfect for sightseeing.

Now that the mountain ranges on either side of True Yang Mountain had been cleared, the clash of northern and southern air temperatures had caused a slight change in Moon Mountain’s climate. In previous years, one would still need a thick, cotton-padded jacket in the second month, but this year, wearing one felt a bit too warm.

And indeed, many of the people gathered today in Yuequan Town at the foot of Moon Mountain had misjudged the weather. Dressed in fine robes stuffed with cotton padding, they were sweating profusely. Long lines formed outside the homes of local residents as people waited to change their clothes.

They were rehearsing for the grand sacrificial ceremony scheduled for the next morning. The tens of thousands of people currently assembled in the town were all representatives from various factions who would follow Wang Ping to the summit of Moon Mountain tomorrow. The largest contingent among them consisted of members from the local great clans.

The boisterous rehearsal lasted the entire day. Just after 5:00 PM, the town fell unusually quiet. Tonight, there was to be no feasting or revelry as there usually was; taverns and restaurants had closed at noon. A soldier holding a halberd was stationed every twenty feet along the streets, and even the ordinary alleys had dedicated patrol teams.

The night passed in silence.

At 5:15 AM, the cold, dark town suddenly burst into activity. The main streets and back alleys were brightly illuminated by plain white lanterns. As if in the blink of an eye, tens of thousands of people appeared on both sides of the town’s main thoroughfare. They stood in the positions they had rehearsed yesterday, enduring the chilly morning wind.

Fortunately, as the crowd grew, their collective warmth dispelled much of the chill. Otherwise, some of the elderly would have certainly caught a cold from the ordeal. Furthermore, Cultivators had set up Constant Temperature Arrays in designated areas, which activated precisely at 5:45 AM.

At the same time, at the town’s southern entrance, a vast procession began to enter the city to the sound of low, ceremonial music. Leading the way was Wang Ping, dressed in a magnificent, wide-sleeved blue Daoist Robe. He held a Duster in his right hand and a prayer written on high-quality silk in his left. Yu Lian was adorned with gorgeous, colorful ribbons, and Tengyun circled around him.

Behind Wang Ping were Wu Quan, Ganxing, Zhigong, Huaimo, Hu Yin, the Mountain Guard, and Zhang Xinghuai. Further back were Second Realm Cultivators and Entering Cultivators such as Zuo Xuan, Liu Shuang, and Zhao Yu’Er.

As Wang Ping, walking with a dignified, splay-footed gait, led the host of Cultivators down the town’s main street, the tens of thousands who had been waiting on both sides lowered their eyes and fell in behind them. Further back still were hundreds of thousands of common folk from nearby towns. All were dressed in plain clothes, appearing even more solemn and reverent than the members of the great clans in the town. Some were even kneeling on the ground.

By Late Morning, the enormous procession, led by Wang Ping, finally reached the steps leading to the summit of Moon Mountain. The staircase was paved with stone slabs, each one ten feet wide. Every ten steps, a pair of Armor-Piercing Soldiers wearing White Feather Helmets stood guard on either side.

Before he knew it, the sky had brightened. Wang Ping mentally calculated the time. He needed to arrive at the tomb of his Second Brother, Liu Zixiu, at the summit by 7:45 AM. He still had close to an hour. For an ordinary person, it would be difficult to even reach the mountainside, let alone the peak.

Consequently, Wang Ping unconsciously quickened his pace, allowing for no rest. This was a great hardship for some of the elderly, who were well past their seventieth year.

7:45 AM arrived on schedule. The mist in the mountain ravines had vanished, the sky was clear of clouds, and the sun cast a brilliant, pure light upon the procession, which stretched for miles along the mountain path.

After more than twenty years, Wang Ping had not only returned to his brother’s grave openly and with dignity, but he had also brought hundreds of thousands to mourn with him.

The tomb had indeed been refurbished. People were already kneeling on both sides—all of them youths, disciples of Zhonghui Academy. As Wang Ping ascended the high platform of the tomb, a Ritual Officer shouted to those behind, "Halt!"

Behind him, Wu Quan, Zhigong, and the others immediately stopped. Then, another Ritual Officer further back was heard repeating the shout, "Halt!"

In a matter of moments, the entire procession of tens of thousands halted as one, creating a series of dull, shuffling sounds.

Just as the Ritual Officer’s voice faded, Zhang Xinghuai abruptly stepped out from the ranks. Holding a copy of *Human Dao*, he ascended the steps and stood behind Wang Ping.

Some of the students kneeling on either side of the tombstone immediately recognized Zhang Xinghuai. Some looked delighted, while others’ faces were filled with resentment.

Wang Ping took two more steps forward, flicked his Duster, and stared at the tombstone for a long moment. As Zhang Xinghuai knelt and performed a grand bow, Wang Ping opened the prayer scroll in his hand and began to read:

"On the fourth day of the second lunar month in the fifth year of Yongxing, we report to Saint Zhonghui:

"Since the Bao Yuan 14th Year, when the Saint left his homeland to study in Shangjing City, more than two hundred years have passed. In recent years, the Dao of Zhonghui has flourished, with tens of millions of students.

"Now, with the change of the Divine Artifact, I, your younger brother, lead the students and the myriad people of the Chu Country. We have arrayed incense and offerings at the peak of Moon Mountain to jointly worship the Saint’s spirit. We pray the Saint will..."

The prayer in Wang Ping’s hands was an eloquent, sprawling text of several thousand words. It recounted Liu Zixiu’s achievements, the hopes of all people under heaven, and implored Liu Zixiu to bless the Chu Country and its government.

After finishing the recitation, Wang Ping composed himself, placed the prayer scroll on the incense table prepared in front of him, and heard the Ritual Officer cry out, "First bow!"

Wang Ping stepped back, clasped his fists, and bowed deeply.

Everyone else, aside from the Third Realm Cultivators of Wang Ping’s generation, performed a full kowtow. Beside him, after completing his bow, Zhang Xinghuai muttered, "I have failed the task Master entrusted to me. I did not follow the Dao of Zhonghui. I will follow the Human Dao!"

Without waiting for the Ritual Officer’s next call, he kowtowed heavily again, drawing angry glares from some of the nearby students.

"Second bow!"

The Ritual Officer cried out again.

After the third bow, a streak of golden light descended from True Yang Mountain and landed beside Wang Ping.

It was the consciousness of the Xiao Shan Lord’s Divine Technique. After solidifying its form, it gave a solemn bow. Then, brilliant golden streams of light appeared in the sky, dyeing the clouds and the earth in shades of gold.

The tens of thousands participating in the ceremony on the mountain clearly felt the warmth of the Divine Technique as it descended upon them. They instinctively began to pray in low voices. As the power of their prayer’s incense smoke intertwined with the golden light, dozens of people were silently consumed, their bodies and souls devoured by the golden streams.

Wang Ping instinctively resisted the Divine Technique’s encroachment on his Primordial Spirit. At the same moment, as he subconsciously prepared to bow to the consciousness of the Xiao Shan Lord’s Divine Technique, he suddenly sensed a flash of black light at the eastern edge of the horizon.

When he turned his head, he saw that the eastern sky had turned pitch-black, as if a piece of the heavens had been peeled away!

The phenomenon was thousands of miles away.

It was in the direction of Pingzhou Road!

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