Rating(4.2 / 5.0, 186 votes)
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Support Book (#ad)
Author(s)One entry per line
Artist(s)One entry per line
Status in COOStatus in Country of Origin. One entry per line
Original PublisherOne entry per line
English PublisherOne entry per line
Release FrequencyEvery 1469 Day(s)
Activity Stats [Graph]Weekly Rank: #2000
Monthly Rank: #2000
All Time Rank: #4143
Reading List [Graph]
On 5161 Reading Lists
Monthly Rank: #3968
All Time Rank: #1243
DescriptionLinks are NOT allowed. Format your description nicely so people can easily read them. Please use proper spacing and paragraphs.
The phoenix led tens of thousands of birds as they flew over from the end of the horizon. Behind them, clouds akin to a sea of fire billowed as they swept by Chang’an. A golden winged roc perched on top of Xingqing Palace, its pupils reflecting the common people of the bustling Divine Land. Within the silence, dynasties rise and fall, while tides ebb and flow.
Li Jinglong slowly dragged his body riddled with wounds, releasing a resplendent light from his hand as he kept approaching Hong Jun.
“The living… are passing travelers…”
His low voice resounded through the world, and within an instant, the black fog that enveloped the earth receded before the light.
“The dead… return home without turning back.”
That light is the blazing sun that illuminates the world, stars that twinkle in the night sky, an eternal heart lamp that pierces through the darkness.
“The world…is a temporary inn. Since time immemorial, countless people have bewailed their short, bitter lives…”
Li Jinglong closed his eyes and pressed one hand against Hong Jun’s forehead. A white light diffused with a whoosh, covering the battlefield littered with mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Within the shadow of that lamp, the debauchery in Pingkang, the parasol trees of the Exorcism Department bathing in the midsummer sun, the sand and swirling snow in the vast expanse beyond the Great Wall, Ah Tai’s clear singing voice, Mo Rigen and Lu Xu picking leaves in the early morning, Qiu Yongsi’s flying brush strokes that transforms into immortal poems in Li Bai’s cup–
A young nobleman of Chang’an strolled through its eastern downtown,
Riding a white horse with a silver saddle as he beamed.
While traversing through Chang’an, flowers kept falling, where on earth is he going?
Smiling, he enters a tavern where a foreign entertainer performs.
(Last four lines are from a poem written by Li Bai used to ridicule hedonistic sons from rich families for their extravagant lifestyles.)
A gong who has bad luck wherever he goes x a shou that can suck away the luck of the people around him
Associated NamesOne entry per line
Legend of Tang
Thiên Bảo Phục Yêu Lục
Related SeriesDinghai Fusheng Records (Prequel)Post Training Notice: National First-Class Registered Exorcist (Sequel)Record of All Things (Sequel)
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