The Villain's White Lotus Halo

55

Chapter 55: Sword Saint's side story – Don't like, don't buy

Yunyang city, the fourth night of snowfall.

The galloping sound of the horse-drawn carriages, the loud shouts of the servants, the delicate and beautiful sounds of bamboo flutes, the cries of children–all faded away into the thickening night.

A night like this, without the crisp moonlight illuminating the vermillion doors of manors, nor jade green wine cups, nor scarlet dancing dresses.

One could only hear sounds of branches cracking under the pressure of heavy snow- the violent winds howling through alleys mixed with the sounds of silver bells crashing into each other beneath the cornices, their chorus long and ear-piercing.

Swirling snowflakes covered the sky and smothered the earth, pulled skyward by strong swirling winds before having the chance to settle, like seafoam scattered onto the limestone paving the streets. The accumulating snow on the streets that were swept away by the servants of the residences during the day piled up again in a thick layer then, looking unfortunately like another round of hard work before daybreak.

In this kind of city accustomed to perfect weather and bustling spirits, under the onslaught of a once-in-a-century snowstorm, there were certainly the aromas of wine and meat behind its red doors of the wealthy residences, yet rare is the sight of a frozen corpse on the streets.

After all in this rich city, even the beggars and the stray cats lived with excess. Who didn't have a place under a bridge to shelter from the snow, or a pile of hay to shelter from the wind?

On the deserted grand street stretching ten li through the city, suddenly there rang the crunch of snow being tread upon, from far to near, with an intriguing tempo, neither fast nor slow.

Traveling in the blustery night, steps unlike someone anxious to return home, but that of an absent-minded traveler.

Hung above the vermilion doors to the residences, the lanterns emitted a yellow light; they swung in the wind, sometimes slamming against the white walls. The yellow light was flickering weakly, dyeing a warm color onto the snow mounds beneath, tricking passerbys into the illusion of warmth.

The light shone upon the traveler too.

He wore a white, light outer cloak made from fur, with shoes embroidered with clouds, and held in his hand was an azure oil paper umbrella edged in gold . A long sword was tied on his narrow waist, swaying slightly each time he took a step, like a finely crafted accessory.

He came through the snow–he should've been ankle-deep in the thick snow cover, but there was only the slightest trace left beneath his cloud-embroidered shoes.

He walked along under the roofs of the red-doored manors, all the way to the innermost corner, where the sounds of howling winds and shaking trees became strangely calm.

In the corner where even the lantern's light couldn't reach, there was a black shadow folded tightly into itself.

At this moment, the shadow suddenly raised its head, but only to glance at the newcomer, and quickly lowered it once again.

Yet the newcomer didn't leave, as if either he had discovered something quite interesting, or perhaps the journey in the blizzarding night was just a tad too lonely. He evaluated the child in front of him, so thin to the point where only skin and bones were left.

The child's old tattered clothing was half covered by a straw-weaved sleeping mat. Leaning against the corner, he held the position that conserved the most warmth and strength.

This sort of weather, even fox fur blankets couldn't provide enough warmth. It was unclear how long this child had stayed here; dark green bruises already developed below his eyes, his breaths labored. Even if he could still maintain consciousness, he would quietly pass away in the middle of the night.