As night fell, the sky transitioned abruptly into pitch black without a trace of the sunset's afterglow; a sudden gust of wind was followed by a torrential downpour.
Pitter-patter, gradually turning into a heavy splash; streams of muddy water began to overflow throughout the mountains.
For Weikang, kneeling in front of the mountain gate, it was hardship upon hardship. It seemed that not just the Sect, but even the heavens were unwilling to show him any favor.
A bead of sandalwood gold sat on the steps before him, its purple flame undisturbed by the rain and still illuminating the surroundings. His body was soaked through like a drowned rat, with water streaming down his face, his whole body ice cold, but colder still was his heart. After kneeling for so long, his parents truly were unwilling even to meet him.