Surviving In A Martial Arts World To Become A Saint

Tianbao Upper Sect, main peak, rear hall.

The rain fell heavier and heavier.

Large drops hammered against the glazed tiles of the hall's roof, producing a dense, relentless sound.

The rainwater ran down along the flying eaves, gathering at the corners into cascading curtains of water that poured with a rushing sound onto the stone steps below, sending up countless tiny splashes.

Deep within the rear hall, candles burned bright.

This was Jiang Lishan's place of cultivation, and also the most private space he kept within the sect.

In ordinary times, aside from Luo Ping occasionally coming in to bring tea or water, no one else dared set foot inside by so much as a single step.

The furnishings inside the hall were extremely spare, somewhat incongruous with the standing of a sect's supreme leader.

One rosewood long desk. One grand armchair. One bronze incense burner. One bookshelf packed with ancient texts.