Dance Of The Dragons
Chapter 318 : Unity In Diversity (1)

Chapter 318: Chapter 318 : Unity In Diversity (1)

A wave of panic swept through the Heavenly Realm as news of the attack on Juhua Palace spread like wildfire. Xiyu Palace, Qingyuan Palace, Qifeng Palace, and Ling’an Palace, who had only recently turned their backs on Xie Jianyu, the rightful heir to the Golden Dragon Palace, were now forced to confront the consequences of their actions.

Said Palace Masters arrived at Juhua Palace a while later. Shock was written on their faces when they witnessed the desolate expanse of Juhua Palace, its once majestic structures now reduced to crumbling ruins, their grandeur eclipsed by the oppressive weight of destruction. The palace’s pristine white walls were now marred with jagged cracks and soot-stained streaks, bearing the scars of a ferocious assault.

The once vibrant gardens, a tapestry of exotic blooms and verdant foliage, were now a desolate wasteland, their beauty trampled underfoot by the relentless march of chaos.

The once proud roofs, adorned with intricate carvings and gleaming tiles, now lay scattered like broken eggshells, their fragments serving as grim reminders of the palace’s former splendor.

The courtyards, once bustling with life and laughter, now echoed with an eerie silence, their emptiness a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that once filled them.

In a desolate corner of the inner courtyard, a solitary figure cowered, his embrace as tight as that of a frightened child seeking solace in the familiar warmth of his own arms. His eyes, once bright and full of life, were now clouded with despair, their gaze fixed on a patch of emerald grass that miraculously survived the onslaught of demon attacks. It was a tiny oasis in a sea of destruction, a symbol of hope amidst the ruins.

The man’s once proud posture was now hunched, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his sorrows. His once neatly groomed hair was now a tangled mess, reflecting the turmoil within his soul. His clothes, once symbols of his nobility, were now torn and tattered, bearing the marks of his desperate struggle against the demonic forces.

As he murmured something incoherent to himself, he rocked back and forth on the spot.

The four Palace Masters initially paid him no heed, as their gazes were fixed on the bloody ruins and the lifeless bodies that were scattered on the courtyards. Until Yang Jiali approached the man out of curiosity.

"No! No! Don’t look!"

The man cried out in fright. He held both arms in front of his face, as if it were enough to ward off a demon attack.

"Wait, aren’t you Wu Shenyuan?" Yang Jiali asked in an incredulous voice.

As his name echoed through the air, Wu Shenyuan’s composure crumbled, his eyes welling up with tears that streamed down his cheeks. The sound of his own name, once a source of comfort and familiarity, now triggered a torrent of emotions, drowning him in a sea of grief and despair.

His shoulders slumped, his body wracked with sobs, as he uttered fragments of words, his voice barely audible amidst the torrent of his sorrow. "Demons... Father..." he whispered, each word a painful reminder of the losses he had endured.

A while later, a group of servants poured out to drag Wu Shenyuan inside.

"Hey, wait," Yang Jiali stopped a hollow-faced maid. "Where can I find your palace master?"

The maid, her face pale and drawn, raised a trembling finger, pointing towards the ruined palace. The group of servants and Wu Shenyuan had already vanished into the depths of the shattered structure.

The Palace Masters, their faces etched with grim determination, exchanged wary glances as they stepped into the desolate ruins of Juhua Palace. Gripping their weapons tightly, they ventured deeper into the once-majestic palace. Inside Juhua Palace, the air was thick with the smell of blood and smoke, a haunting reminder of the demon’s relentless assault.

Despite its ravaged state, Juhua Palace stood in stark contrast to the utter devastation that had befallen the Golden Dragon Palace on the fateful night when the Heavenly Emperor met his untimely demise.

The survivors, their faces etched with exhaustion and grief, toiled tirelessly, tending to the wounded and providing solace to those who had lost loved ones. The maids and servants, having narrowly escaped the demons’ wrath, moved with quiet efficiency, their movements guided by an unwavering sense of duty.

At the center of the ruined hall sat Wu Shenxia, drenched in blood from neck to toe. It was unclear whether the blood was entirely hers or mixed with those of her opponents.

She had a thick cloth inside her mouth to prevent her from screaming when Zhang Fengxi pulled out a bloody arrowhead from her shoulder. Afterward, Wu Shenxia slapped a hand against the broken stone floor in a mixture of pain and rage. A stream of obscenities poured out of her lips continuously.

With quick movements, Zhang Fengxi tapped on three acupuncture points on Wu Shenxia’s body to stop the severe bleeding. Next to him, the bloody arrowhead emitted wisps of dark demonic aura.

Wu Shenxia and Zhang Fengxi noticed the four palace masters at the same time.

"Welcome, palace masters," Wu Shenxia said despite her cold demeanor and unwelcome glares. "I am sorry that I cannot offer you any tea at the moment. We are a bit busy."

Embarrassment encroached on the face of the four elders when they heard Wu Shenxia’s words. They all saw the emergency flares shooting upward from Juhua Palace when the demons came to attack, but they all turned a blind eye and refused to send reinforcement over to help.

The notion that a bond of friendship existed between the palaces was a mere illusion, a fragile construct that crumbled under the slightest strain. The camaraderie they displayed was nothing more than a temporary alliance, forged in the fires of common adversity.

Zhang Fengxi rose to his feet calmly.

He had rushed over with a combined army from Fuxi and Longjing Palaces the moment he saw the emergency flare. Though he harbored no love for Wu Qingyou, a sense of duty and camaraderie compelled him to offer his support to Wu Shenxia, his steadfast companion in the military.

"If you are here to pay your respect to the fallen Juhua Palace Master Wu, he is over there," Zhang Fengxi gestured towards the far end of the cavernous hall where row upon row of lifeless figures lay in silent repose. Their faces, once etched with fear of demons, were now serene, their expressions forever frozen in a mask of tranquility.