A century of chains wrapped around my bones. The Qingwa Temple was my grave.
Until a bulldozer crushed its eaves, and the talismans crumbled to ash amid the roar.
"Rumble, "
As the last warding stone hit the ground, I opened my eyes.
My nails dug into my palm, and a bead of blood dripped onto the cracked seal. Black mist, alive like a creature, shot up into the sky. The people who had waved their blueprints and mocked me as "feudal rubbish," the ones eager to trample my prison for the demolition compensation, were still raising their glasses in celebration.
I brushed the dust from my robe. My knuckles gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
The greatest demon of this age?
Ha.
From the moment you tore down this temple,
this mortal world became the paper on which I would write my blood debt.
After reading this epic fantasy novel, the imagery of peach blossoms in Qingqiu intertwined with the smoke of war in the mortal world lingers in the mind. Su Mei's resolute sacrifice and Xuan Yuanze's burning vow reveal the most intense emotions; the power struggles among aristocratic families and the transformation of cultivation for all reveal the deepest sense of righteousness.
It's great, especially the last chapter.