The sky had yet to brighten, and the roosters in the village had just begun to crow.

Jia Dagui appeared outside the Xuanqing Temple, his face filled with panic, banging on the door and shouting for help.

Song Xuanqing sat serenely on the altar, his gaze piercing through the walls to land on Jia Dagui.

There was blood at the corner of his mouth, his face pale, but there was no other strange aura about him.