The White-Robed Scholar looked up at the sky pouring down rain.

His body was already soaked through.

As the rain relentlessly pelted his face, he studied the shape of the sky and clouds and concluded this wasn’t the kind of rain that would let up easily.

He glanced back down at hell…

The Master of Haomun was dancing with a sword in hand like a man gone mad.

Was that internal deviation, or simple madness?

Watching from here, it looked more like a struggle to overcome madness. Or maybe a desperate attempt to live joyfully, no matter what. Whatever the reason, it was clear this man wasn’t just your average lunatic.