It was late at night.
In the Jiangnan Province Daoist Alliance, within a tranquil courtyard, an ethereal bell tolled, stirring everyone's nerves.
"That's coming from the direction of the black market."
Lou Hechuan walked to the window, gazing at the sky, a smear of dark clouds spreading like thick ink, concealing the bright moon, exuding an air of mystery and ominousness.
"The gates of misfortune are wide open; the weather wreaks havoc—something's amiss."
Approaching, Meng Qinghuan looked in the same direction, a grave expression appearing on her charming face.
The weather was changing, with directions portending fortune or disaster.
If tonight, the most inauspicious place in the entire city of Yujing was where the black market was located, and this calamity developed suddenly, it was growing increasingly intense.
Rumble...
