After the battle at the North Sea, and his rebirth in the depths of the lake, the death aura had been completely dispelled. As he walked through the wind and snow, not a sliver of it emanated out.
The fact that the black aura, which had encircled him for more than a month, was now gone, made Meng Hao’s pace a bit more leisurely as he moved through the snowfall.
Snow fell more and more heavily, making seem as if this was the year’s last and heaviest snowstorm. The snowflakes appeared to be pushed along by the incoming season, falling out of the sky as fast as possible.
The snow covered him, until he finally reached the cave in Mount Daqing that he had been taken from years before. He sat cross-legged, looking out at the world of snow and listening to the cry of the wind.
Night fell.
Snowfall blocked the night sky, making it impossible to see the stars. The only things visible were the endless sheets of snow which covered the landscape.
A small bonfire burned in front of Meng Hao, illuminating the surroundings with flickering firelight. The light fell onto his face as he sat there thinking.
Nearly four years had passed.
It was almost four years since he had joined the Reliance Sect. He had started out as a youth and had grown into a young man; he was now twenty years of age.
For a long time, Meng Hao sat there, looking down at his hands. They were clean, without a spot of dirt on them. But Meng Hao knew without a doubt that they were stained with blood.
He had killed many times in the past four years. At first, it had caused him much mental tribulation. Now, though you couldn’t say he was numb to it, at least he had come to accept it. He had adapted. It was as if some invisible force of heaven and earth had changed his spirit, his fate, and his future.