Chapter Index

    Ye Cang carefully lifted the blue and white porcelain lid.

    Inside, the silver fish, marinated with fine salt and plum wine, had been stewed to perfection. The soup was a milky white, almost the same color as the Cloud Continent porcelain. The fish scales and bones were half-soft, half-firm, translucent like ice jelly in the soup. Just as he was feeling pleased that his skills hadn’t deteriorated too much, he looked up to see his three junior disciples squatting by the stove, looking for all the world like they hadn’t eaten meat in centuries.

    Ye Cang was speechless.

    Where did these drooling, hungry dogs come from?

    “Little Martial Ancestor, please have a taste.”

    Fortunately, though the three hungry dogs were greedy, they remembered their duty as disciples. One by one, they all rushed ahead of Ye Cang, the senior brother who had done ninety percent of the work, to serve the best portion and attend to their lazy and precious Little Martial Ancestor.

    Although Chou Bodeng’s seniority was high, he looked like a youth. Lu Xiaoxiao watched him lower his eyelashes, support his cheek with one hand, and hold a spoon with the other, tasting the soup with a half-picky, half-condescending air. His small, exquisitely lush face was framed by the thick fur trim of his black cloak, and a wave of irreverent, motherly love suddenly burned fiercely within her.

    Xiaoxiao, oh Xiaoxiao.

    How could you be so disrespectful!

    Lu Xiaoxiao silently condemned herself while rolling up her sleeves to join the battle for the fish soup. In Taiyi, the word “courtesy” was only ever extended to their Little Martial Ancestor; there was no such rule among the younger generation. Just as the four of them were clashing with chopsticks and spoons, unable to settle their dispute, a hand reached out from nowhere and took the entire pot of soup.

    “Hey!”

    The four of them cried out in unison.

    Gulp, gulp.

    The newcomer tilted his head back and drank his fill of the fish soup.

    “Hah—I’m finally alive again,” the white-robed young master burped, leisurely setting down the porcelain pot. He found four vicious dogs staring daggers at him and asked in surprise, “What? Wasn’t this fish soup specially left for this young master as a welcoming gesture?”

    “Left for your…”

    Ass.

    In front of his Little Martial Ancestor, Ye Cang managed to swallow the vulgar word.

    “Ye, your skills are lacking,” the white-robed young master said, blissfully unaware of how annoying he was. He formed a hand seal to brush off the snow on his shoulders while casually greeting Ye Cang. “It’s at least thirty percent worse than when you were in Fu City… Tsk, what a waste of such a good Heavenly Lake Silver Fish.”

    “It’s a real waste that it ended up in your stomach,” Chou Bodeng said, his fingertips tapping a porcelain spoon against a celadon bowl, making a tinkling sound. “Why are you alone? Where’s Budu?”

    “The bald donkey went off to beg for alms halfway here. This young master couldn’t be bothered to wait, so I came ahead,” the white-robed young master said, preening himself until he was impeccably dressed. He produced a folding fan with a splash-ink painting from somewhere and began to fan himself as he turned to look at Lu Xiaoxiao and the others, adopting a very elder-like demeanor. “Are these three the rising stars of your new Taiyi generation? Come, this Martial Uncle will give each of you a welcoming gift.”

    Chou Bodeng set down his green bowl and raised an eyebrow at his words. “Lu Shiyi, what kind of seniority are you calculating?”

    “I am a sworn friend of you, the great Young Master Chou. By that calculation, am I not their elder? But your Taiyi seniority is too chaotic, and I don’t know which generation of grand-disciples these three are. This young master is in the prime of his life, a fine young man. It would make me seem old to be addressed as a grand-ancestor,” Lu Jing reasoned plausibly. “Rounding things off, calling me Martial Uncle will do just fine.”

    As he spoke, he even urged the three of them, “Quick, quick, hurry up and say it.”

    Lu Xiaoxiao, Junior Brother Liu, and the little junior brother were speechless.

    How could their perfect Little Martial Ancestor have such an exasperating sworn friend?

    —The Taiyi disciples clearly had a hard time realizing that in others’ eyes, their Little Martial Ancestor was just as exasperating.

    “Alright, you all go play in the city for a while. I have matters to discuss with the great Young Master Chou.”

    Lu Jing was the eleventh child in his family, so any older brother could boss him around. He had only ever been on the receiving end of lectures. Finally getting a chance to act like an elder, he was as smug as could be. He tossed a silk pouch to Lu Xiaoxiao and waved them down the mountain, putting on a convincing act.

    Ye Cang thought to himself, I still remember the sight of you crying for your mommy and daddy when you were scared by the flock of birds on the ancient Fu tree.

    Grumbling inwardly, since his Little Martial Ancestor didn’t object, Ye Cang got up and led the three junior disciples, who desperately wanted to spend more time with their Little Martial Ancestor, down the mountain.

    “I almost forgot!” After walking a few steps, Lu Xiaoxiao remembered something and hurried back to the waterside gazebo. She placed a long, narrow, exquisitely carved wooden box on the stone table. “Little Martial Ancestor, this is for you!”

    After speaking, she dashed back into the wind and snow to catch up with her senior brothers.

    As soon as Ye Cang and the others left, Lu Jing’s flamboyant, romantic facade vanished completely. With a thud, he sat down heavily on a chair. An extremely cold, green qi emerged from his chest, and ice quickly spread across his shoulders, making his teeth chatter. “Quick, quick! Give me a hand, I can’t hold on!”

    He didn’t need to say more. Chou Bodeng had already shot out several blasts of energy, sealing the path of the cold qi.

    Lu Jing seized the opportunity, took out three small jade vials, and downed their contents as if they were candy. His pale face instantly turned purplish-red, then was immediately suffused with a bruised green. After several such cycles, the green qi was finally suppressed. Lu Jing let out a long sigh of relief. For the past twelve years, his cultivation had been half-supported by medicine and half by poison. His progress was rapid, but his foundation was not very stable. The clash between extreme cold and extreme heat was like a body tempering, and he was about to expel the foul qi from his body.

    Splash—

    A human-shaped hole was smashed into the ice of Heavenly Lake.

    “What the hell! Great Young Master Chou! Is this how you treat a poor laborer who traveled thousands of miles through wind and snow to run errands for you?” Lu Jing, caught off guard, got a mouthful of ice shards and couldn’t help but jump up and down in the water.

    Chou Bodeng leaned back against a beauty pillow. “Your heart meridian was almost invaded by the cold, yet you still had to put on a front in front of the juniors. Are you hot-headed, or were you drunk?”

    “What do you know,” Lu Jing said, unashamed. “This is called ‘an elder’s grace’.”

    Chou Bodeng shot him a chilling glare.

    Lu Jing immediately became alert. “Chou, are you thinking of throwing me back into the water again?”

    Chou Bodeng drew out his words, “Well…”

    Lu Jing cursed, circulated his spiritual energy to dry his clothes, and then returned to the pavilion to sit down. He slammed a jade jar onto the table in front of Chou Bodeng and introduced it with feigned thoughtfulness, “A secret of Medicine Valley, brings the dead to life and grows flesh on white bones, a secret formula for consolidating one’s foundation. It took this young master a full six months, gathering the best Coptis, Akebia, and Gentian in Medicine Valley, and simmering it for forty-nine days to make this Ten Thousand Gold Bitter Pill from the concentrated paste. Young Master Chou! Please!”

    “Why does it all taste like honey?”

    Chou Bodeng lifted the lid of the jar and picked through the contents.

    “Alright, Young Master, Great Young Master, next time I’ll get you a whole jar of plum, osmanthus, almond, and magnolia flavors,” Lu Jing said, placating the fussy great young master perfunctorily.

    “No almonds,” Chou Bodeng said, picking up the most perfectly round pill and giving his earnest feedback. “If it’s not made well, it tends to be bitter.”

    “…Do you really think I’m a breakfast stall!”

    Lu Jing couldn’t bear it any longer and slammed his hand on the table, rising to his feet.

    “How could I,” Chou Bodeng said, swallowing the pill with some wine. He coughed violently, spitting a large mouthful of dark, stagnant blood from his old ailment into a nearby spittoon. Then, he pulled out a handkerchief, wiped the blood from his lips with an unruffled expression, and calmly added, “A breakfast stall with five flavors wouldn’t even survive in Fu City.”

    Lu Jing sat down opposite Chou Bodeng and asked, “How is it?”

    “Bitter with a hint of sweet, sweet with a hint of spicy, spicy with a hint of salty, salty with a hint of sour…” Chou Bodeng stared at the medicine jar and spoke slowly. “One pill contains the five flavors of life.” He sincerely suggested, “Lu Shiyi, I’ve received your earnest efforts. You don’t need to persuade me to cherish my life like this next time.”

    “…Who was asking you about that,” Lu Jing said, his patience worn thin. “Chou Bodeng, if you keep spouting nonsense, I guarantee that next time you’ll taste the hundred flavors of the world! If even one is missing, you can count it as my loss!”

    “About thirty percent.”

    Chou Bodeng tossed the blood-stained handkerchief into the spittoon.

    A flame ignited on the handkerchief, burning both it and the stagnant blood to ashes.

    Not a single trace was left behind.

    “Still thirty percent left, that’s good, that’s good,” Lu Jing murmured. “In another two years, it should be almost gone. Hmm, you should still make a trip to Medicine Valley in the meantime. It would be best to recuperate at Medicine Valley’s Painting Lake for half a month, otherwise I’m afraid the demonic qi will relapse… Great Young Master Chou, I’m begging you, can you please rest a little for these next two years? Do you know that I’ve lost one hundred and sixty-one hairs looking for medicinal herbs for you?! I still need to find a wife!”

    Lu Jing couldn’t help but nag, turning into a complete mother hen.

    Back in Qing Province, Lou Jiang had often been driven into a mother hen by the three of them—him, Fatty Zuo, and Chou Bodeng. He never thought that twelve years later, the cycle would turn, and Lu Jing would follow in Mother Lou’s footsteps to become the new Mother Lu… and a rather ineffective one at that.

    It just went to show that the karmic cycle of the world always delivered its just deserts.

    But Lu Jing could never forget the sight of Chou Bodeng when he saw him again twelve years ago.

    It was the fourth month after the Night of Dusk and Dawn’s Division. Chou Bodeng, who had been at sea for several months, suddenly appeared in Medicine Valley. He arrived in extreme secrecy; apart from the Valley Master and Lu Jing, no one else was aware of his presence. The Divine Lord was draped in a black cloak, his face as pale as paper, blood dripping from his fingertips. Half of his body was decayed, revealing white bone.

    He asked: Can it be cured?

    The Valley Master said: Yes.

    Afterward, Lu Jing privately asked his father and learned that at the time, he hadn’t been confident either.

    But the Divine Lord stood there under the night sky, his eyes downcast, all alone.

    So even if he wasn’t confident, he had to cure him.

    Thus, Chou Bodeng lived in seclusion in Medicine Valley for two months.

    The news was kept under tight wraps; not even Taiyi knew.

    During his recuperation, apart from the first half-month, Chou Bodeng, or rather, the Divine Lord, would always sit alone and quietly in the lush, deep valley, facing the cold pool and white waterfall all day. He was so quiet that Lu Jing once thought he had completely lost this roguish friend of his. He had gone to sea alone to face the Thirty-Six Islands, and had returned alone and wounded.

    After that, the Thirty-Six Islands also fell silent.

    Both gratitude and resentment fell silent.

    It was likely a fierce battle.

    Regarding the outcome of the battle, both the Divine Lord and the demon race were silent… Old friends reunited after many years, only to draw their blades against each other. Whether one won or lost, what was the point?

    After all the tribulations and hardship, there was nothing to say, nothing that could be mentioned.

    The Divine Lord watched the cold pool for two months, and Lu Jing squatted dejectedly at the valley entrance, guarding the rocks for two months.

    He had very few friends. The first he met were the ill-tempered great young master who passed through the Fu tree leaves and the swindling fat young pavilion master. He didn’t want to lose his first friends, but he didn’t know what to do. He could only desperately recall: the Divine Fu Tree in Fu City like a snow-dusted gauze, soaring up with the wind at night, the kite flying from the Heavenly Snow Boat, the magnificent sight of fish swimming in the sky in Ru City…

    He reviewed the past, chapter by chapter, trying to find all the moments of freedom and unrestraint.

    In the end, he discovered that the freedom was false, the unrestraint was empty. For the great Young Master Chou, this mortal realm was full of deadly traps at every step, leaving only cold silence.

    Perhaps it was better to be the Divine Lord.

    What should he do? What could he do?

    Lu Jing thought and thought, but couldn’t come up with anything, feeling dejected and frustrated.

    Until someone called out to him nonchalantly:

    Lu Shiyi, are you on a blind date with a rock?

    Swear to the heavens, Lu Jing had never felt the ranking of “eleventh” to be so endearing.

    “…By the way, Fatty Zuo had me bring you a new model of flying boat. But that damn fatty, ten to one, he wants you to be a guinea pig too, to test the stability of the new boat… Damn it, that Vermilion Bird boat of his last time nearly killed me and the bald donkey.” Lu Jing’s face turned a little green as he recalled the feeling of the flying boat losing control.

    “How did you get injured? Don’t tell me you fell from the flying boat.”

    Chou Bodeng tossed him a jar of plum wine and asked.

    Twelve years had passed. Zuo Yuesheng had rebuilt the Mountain Sea Pavilion, Half-Diviner had taken over Ghost Valley, Monk Budu had become a Buddha, and Lu Jing was no longer the young son of Medicine Valley who knelt by the Xianyi River, questioning his brother with red-rimmed eyes about what was right and what was wrong.

    —Six years ago, the Valley Master of Medicine Valley had personally expelled his youngest son from the sect.

    The former Eleventh Master of Miraculous Healing was now the White-Robed Soul Ferryman of Impermanence.

    They had all grown up.

    Having come and gone through life, death, wind, and rain, it was only when they gathered that they could recklessly toss chopsticks and drink wine, laugh and curse with abandon, as detestable to man and dog as they were when they were the young men who once stirred the whole city.

    “There are Wilderness Emissaries active near Mirror Mountain. Someone set up a Demon-Summoning Formation,” Lu Jing said, becoming more serious as he mentioned this matter. “Budu went to track the demonic qi, and I came to Plum City, and then I was attacked… A month ago, my eldest brother was also ambushed in Qing Province. We still don’t know if it’s targeting Medicine Valley or the Immortal-Demon Alliance talks.”

    He paused.

    “Targeting Medicine Valley and the Immortal-Demon Alliance talks isn’t a big deal,” Lu Jing said, his brow furrowed, a hint of ruthlessness in his expression. “I’m just afraid they’re after you.”

    The Twelve Continents had enjoyed a rare peace for twelve years.

    However, this peace could be said to be maintained by Chou Bodeng alone. Apart from him, no one else could both intimidate the immortal sects and balance the demon race. If the news of his hidden ailment were to spread, turmoil would surely erupt again. Therefore, from refining the pills to delivering the medicine, Lu Jing and his father were extremely careful with every step.

    To be attacked at this time, right before the Immortal-Demon Alliance talks, was something that had to be taken seriously.

    “Let them come.”

    Chou Bodeng replied nonchalantly, still playing the boring little game of “poke-poke” with the small wooden puppet.

    Lu Jing was silent for a moment, then looked at the small wooden puppet, which had sat up straight again, and said earnestly, “Great Young Master Chou, you have a family now, unlike a bachelor like me. A certain someone is still waiting for you to take him home… Even an ugly daughter-in-law has to meet her in-laws, let alone someone like him who eloped with you without a word…”

    “It’s not me taking him home.”

    Chou Bodeng said suddenly.

    “Fine, fine,” Lu Jing placated him perfunctorily. “It’s you going home with him, alright?” As he spoke, Lu Jing shook his head like an old scholar. “Pathetic. Taiyi worked so hard to produce a Little Martial Ancestor, only to have him so easily abducted by the Witch Clan… Truly, it makes the listener sad and the beholder weep.”

    Chou Bodeng was speechless.

    “Lu Shiyi,” Chou Bodeng said softly, “last month, I saw a booklet in the book pavilion that was quite interesting. It was called something like Dream Return Order. Have you heard of it?”

    Without a second word, Lu Shiyi turned and fled.

    After running a few steps, he stopped abruptly and looked towards a certain direction in Plum City.

    Chou Bodeng also looked over.

    As he raised his eyes, the formation patterns on the Ruomu Spirit Puppet by his sleeve suddenly flickered for an instant, the light dim and barely perceptible.

    ***

    Zhuang Jiuzhu, the great Young Master Zhuang, was curled up in a cold, hard cave.

    His ears were filled with the scraping sounds of insect carapaces and scales, and his nose was filled with the stench of rotting flesh and stagnant blood. The combination made his head spin and his vision blur.

    How he got here was a long story.

    After this great young master disembarked from the Startled Swan White Colt Boat, he inquired about the whereabouts of his kindred spirits and headed for Heavenly Lake. Plum City was built against the mountain; though Heavenly Lake Mountain seemed to be right in front of him, the houses were scattered up and down, and it was easy to get lost. It was the first time Young Master Zhuang had ever gone out by himself. Fortunately, he firmly remembered the unbreakable truth that “money makes the world go round.” He asked for directions all the way and managed to find his way.

    Halfway there, he caught a glimpse of his kindred spirits from afar, but in the blink of an eye, they were gone again.

    Zhuang Jiuzhu usually believed in “there’s nothing difficult in the world, as long as you’re willing to give up,” but he was exceptionally persistent when it came to painting, his passion rooted in ink and color. Seeing his kindred spirits vanish in an instant, he thought, this won’t do. He gritted his teeth and chased after them relentlessly, and in the end, he stumbled into this underground demon’s den by mistake.

    …Heaven knows why Plum City would have such a hellish place.

    Zhuang Jiuzhu carefully glanced down and saw his four kindred spirits holding their breath, hiding not far away. He wanted to go over and call them to escape together, but the candlelight in the cave flickered, and there were guards. Zhuang Jiuzhu had no choice but to shrink back into the stone grotto, clumsily circulating the Qi Concealment Art his master had taught him.

    —In ancient times, a zither player sought a bosom friend in the deep mountains; today, a profligate son saves his kindred spirits in an underground den.

    I am truly a great painter of both virtue and talent.

    Zhuang Jiuzhu was quite moved by his own actions.

    Ye Cang and the others had no idea that there was such a weirdo about thirty meters above their heads.

    Originally, after receiving their “Martial Uncle Lu’s” welcoming gift, they had planned to go to a tavern for a big meal. On the way, they happened to encounter black-robed cultivators with ghostly auras kidnapping mortals. Thinking that the West Continent was like the nine cities of Zhunan before, where mortals were specially abducted to be prostitutes in brothels, they followed them stealthily.

    Finally, in a very remote corner of southwest Plum City, they discovered this underground secret cave.

    The cave was three hundred meters deep, with no sight of the sun.

    It was located at the intersection of cold veins, containing cold qi without releasing it. It should have been a winter eye of Plum City. Now, someone had tampered with it, transforming it into a Yin Cavity. The walls were carved with formation patterns, and with the help of the natural terrain and over a hundred chains with hanging bronze bells, the fierce and bloody aura was tightly sealed.

    In the cave was a blood pool, with countless female corpses floating in it.

    A blood pool with snowy corpses, the Hundred Ghosts Seal.

    It was a Demon-Summoning Formation.

    The “Demon-Summoning Formation” was a semi-new, semi-old thing.

    It was new because it had only officially appeared for twelve years. It was old because it was derived from the previous “God-Inviting Art.” Before the Heaven Beyond Heavens fell and shattered, cultivators from the Twelve Continents, led by the Xuanqing Sect, could invite the gods of the upper heavens to descend to the mortal realm through sacrificial rituals. Later, Shi Wuluo ascended the heavenly ladder and slayed the gods, and the Divine Lord’s sword destroyed the Cloud City, thus cutting off this art and this lineage.

    A centipede dies but never falls down.

    In the great turmoil that overturned the past and present, the ninety thousand heavenly gods were mostly killed by Shi Wuluo, but there were still some who slipped through the net. These survivors found it difficult to maintain their positions in the mortal realm, so they all entered the Great Wilderness and became “demons.” The former “God’s Descent” thus became “Demon Summoning.”

    The firelight flickered, and two men wearing ghost masks entered.

    They seemed to be the ones in charge.

    Ye Cang signaled his junior brother and sister to close their eyes and conceal their qi to avoid their gazes being detected. He himself observed with clear light in his eyes, remaining impassive. Of these two men, one was tall, thin, and withered, like a skeleton, while the other was wide and fat, with a large belly… Ye Cang suddenly remembered the joke he had heard in the teahouse.

    —The lord of Hundred Bows Manor!

    “My lord, the God-Inviting Art, did it succeed or not?” the lord of Hundred Bows Manor asked as he followed the Wilderness Emissary across the bridge over the blood pool to the center of the altar. His voice was very soft, as if he was afraid of disturbing something.

    On the formation, there was a hazy black fog.

    It roiled and boiled.

    It was as if something was about to break through the seal, yet was being held back tightly.

    The aura was extremely obscure, ancient and profound.

    “Logically, if the formation is successful and the gloom appears, it should mean that some venerable one has descended with a sliver of divine sense… Perhaps your sacrifice was insufficient, and the venerable one disdained to descend with his divine sense, only bestowing you with a bit of wilderness gloom…” the Wilderness Emissary said as he leaned down to examine the formation connected to the blood pool. “How did your investigation go a few days ago? Let me tell you, this is a direct order from the Desolate Lord, it’s of utmost importance. If you complete it well, your entry into the Nether City is all but guaranteed. If I put in a few good words for you, it won’t be difficult to receive the Desolate Lord’s bone to reshape your body.”

    “This humble one naturally understands,” the lord of Hundred Bows Manor said, bowing gratefully. “A few days ago, this humble one risked his life to test the waters… but I was thrown down from Heavenly Lake Mountain before I could even get close.”

    The Wilderness Emissary frowned.

    He turned his head and gave the lord of Hundred Bows Manor a critical look.

    “With your ugly mug, it would be strange if you weren’t thrown down the mountain.” Then, the Wilderness Emissary couldn’t help but laugh. “Putting other things aside, in terms of looks alone, the Divine Lord is the world’s number one. Hmm… in the face of such beauty, it’s understandable to overestimate oneself and act out of passion.”

    Under the ghost mask, the lord of Hundred Bows Manor’s face turned purple with rage.

    “My lord is absolutely right. This humble one originally thought that since I am by nature absurd, lustful, and indulgent, using the excuse of being blinded by lust to make rash contact would not easily arouse the Divine Lord’s suspicion,” the lord of Hundred Bows Manor said, annoyed but still having to force a smile. “Now that I think about it, this humble one was indeed overestimating myself. Next time, I will send a handsome young man to test the waters.”

    As the two of them spoke, neither noticed that in the center of the altar, the black fog was churning and gathering, becoming more and more bizarre.

    It was as if the gates of the Netherworld had opened.

    Demons and vicious ghosts were fighting for the chance to return to the mortal realm.

    Whose obsession was deepest, whose madness was greatest.

    The Wilderness Emissary carefully investigated and finally found a very fine but crucial formation pattern that was slightly skewed, probably affected by the circulating cold qi here.

    He focused his mind, injected qi into the formation, and adjusted the pattern—he didn’t know which venerable one had bestowed this wilderness gloom, but the great formation was as difficult and vast as the sea. After changing it by less than a millimeter, he felt as if all the essence and blood in his body were about to be drained. He quickly withdrew his hand, stood up, and said, “Within three days, you find another—”

    Boom!

    Thick ink exploded in the three-hundred-meter-deep cave.

    All the bronze bells and heavy locks shattered in an instant, and an extremely violent and ruthless killing aura swept in all directions.

    Countless broken stones rumbled down.

    On the cave wall, Ye Cang drew his saber with a backhand motion, holding it horizontally to protect his junior brother and sister with all his might. Higher up, Zhuang Jiuzhu didn’t even have time to grunt before his eyes rolled back and he was knocked unconscious by the shockwave. On the altar, the Wilderness Emissary took the brunt of the attack. He let out a shrill scream, and his bones and soul were instantly turned to dust.

    The lord of Hundred Bows Manor, whose cultivation was far inferior to his, surprisingly survived.

    But he would rather have died instantly.

    A pale, illusory hand reached out from the black fog and tightly gripped his throat.

    The lord of Hundred Bows Manor’s eyes bulged as countless dead souls poured into his body, tearing, gnawing, and torturing his muscles and bones inch by inch. His throat swelled, and he wanted to scream his heart out, but could only make gurgling sounds.

    “…Mine.”

    The vicious ghost gripped his throat, slowly lifting him up, its fingers tightening bit by bit.

    Its aura was violent, muddled, its obsession like a demon’s.

    “No one can touch him.”

    A flower of blood exploded.

    The lord of Hundred Bows Manor was slowly crushed from head to toe, then forcibly held together, repeating the torment of death and life over and over again. On the cave wall, Ye Cang’s heart pounded in his chest, and his aura fluctuated uncontrollably… Not good! Ye Cang immediately wanted to protect his junior brother and sister and flee, but it was already too late.

    In the black fog, the pale, blurry figure did not turn its head, but a bone-chilling cold had already enveloped the four from Taiyi.

    —What demon from the Netherworld did the lord of Hundred Bows Manor summon?

    The gloom surged, bone-chillingly cold.

    Suddenly, a line of light fell from the sky.

    The underground secret chamber of Hundred Bows Manor was broken open by a single sword strike.

    A clear wind poured in.

    The vicious ghost that was gripping the lord of Hundred Bows Manor’s throat looked up. Amidst the fluttering white snow and red plums, a youth arrived, cloaked in the light of the heavens, his sword held like a plucked flower. His black cloak flew, revealing a slender wrist and two Kui Dragon Bracelets; his red robes swirled, becoming a rosy cloud, a fire, a heart-devil pointed to by all obsession.

    The youth seemed to sense something and lowered his eyes.

    One looked down, one looked up.

    Falling flowers drifted, light and shadow intertwined.

    Chou Bodeng’s fingertips suddenly turned white, and he could no longer hold his sword.

    “…A Luo?”

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