Heavy, ink-black clouds pressed down oppressively upon the sky above the capital of Wulong Country, as if they might pour down in a torrent at the slightest exertion.
Fine threads of rain fell like weeping and pleading, shrouding the entire capital in a haze of sorrow.
Dressed in plain hemp mourning attire and wearing an expression of profound grief, Li Rufeng cradled a delicately crafted, gold-gilded spirit tablet as he walked slowly along the rain-soaked bluestone path.
Chapter 263