[Hmm... I an no harm.]
At those words, Ye Mo turned toward the voice, which sounded ancient yet broken, and saw... a shadowy, smoky figure with no definite form.
It looked like a rippling figure reflected on water.
But Ye Mo smiled, seemingly unfazed by the being’s strange appearance, as he finally identified the culprit.
’So... what do you want from by showing all of this?’
The shadowy figure didn’t speak at first, seeming lost in thought, then replied:
[Nothing... I am just curious... as you carry a trace of... his... "Divine Blood."]
Hearing this, Ye Mo finally understood a little and shook his head with a sigh, realizing that this being had misunderstood.
’Hey, you’ve got the wrong person. I’m from the Fire Yang Sect, not the Divine Blood Sect—’
[No... I can sense it, and... I’ve already found it... in you.]
Ye Mo frowned at the nonsense.
’What do you an?’
Since when had he ever been part of the Divine Blood Sect?
He also knew a little bit about the so-called "Divine Blood" from what Brother Yan Moxuan had told him.
He understood it was a precious inheritance of the Divine Blood Sect, a treasure bestowed only upon the Twelve Emissaries.
As for what it did... he didn’t know, nor did he care.
And yet this being claid he carried a trace of it? Ye Mo himself couldn’t even rember anything about that.
Silence stretched on as the shadowy figure said nothing further.
Ye Mo sighed.
’Hey, I don’t know who you are, but return back. I don’t have ti for this bullshit.’
He shook his head and shrugged.
The shadowy figure remained silent for a while, then finally spoke:
[Are...you... sure?]
At that strange question, Ye Mo gave the figure a weird look.
"Yes. Why would I want to stay here? I have a lot of things to do, you see—"
[Even if it ans continuing to fight that "Anomaly"?] the shadowy figure interrupted, but this ti the voice was no longer stamring....calm and serious.
Ye Mo paused at the sudden shift in tone, frowning.
’What do you an?’
What anomaly was this figure even talking about?
Ye Mo was starting to beco genuinely confused by this seemingly ancient being’s cryptic, riddle-like way of speaking.
But again, the shadowy figure said nothing.
Ye Mo’s frustration slowly grew at the figure’s unwillingness to explain or respond imdiately.
Just as he was about to curse, the shadowy figure finally spoke.
[Well... it is... inevitable...]
Suddenly, Ye Mo couldn’t move as the shadowy figure slowly approached.
’What!?’
[Since you... have allowed to... sense... soone familiar... after so long in..this...prison...]
The shadowy figure slowly outstretched its thin, mist-like hand and touched his forehead.
[...as a thank...I will... let... you... see... the... truth...]
Ye Mo braced himself, expecting pain, but to his surprise....nothing happened.
’Hmm? What did you do?’
He asked as he looked down at his body.
Suddenly, the restrictions around him were lifted, and he could move again but by then, the shadowy figure had already disappeared.
The grey world regained its color as it unfroze, and the snow continued to fall from the dark night sky.
Ye Mo looked around, wondering what the figure’s last words ant.
Then he rembered—he was still inside this strange space.
’Hey! At least let out!’
He shouted again and again, but no answer ca.
Just as his frustration peaked, he noticed a figure approaching from the distance.
"Ah, it seems Senior Brother has arrived."
Thinking it must be the senior brother from the Fire Yang Sect who had found him, Ye Mo sighed slightly, about to continue cursing into the air—
But then multiple steps echoed across the snow, and a group of n appeared instead.
’Hmm?’
Ye Mo tilted his head, wondering if he had rembered wrong.
Then he noticed the group’s center...one man stood out the most as he wore a crimson veil that cover his face.
The mont Ye Mo’s eyes et that figure—
His breath hitched.
tzk—tzk—TZZZRT—
His head ached.
TRRT—tzzzz—
’....What!?’
Ye Mo’s head suddenly throbbed, as if sothing sharp were crawling inside his brain.
BZZZT—krk—krkk—
Suddenly, the world seed to turn hazy and colorful, as if... it were glitching.
Ye Mo clutched his head, continuing to watch the man at the center of the group.....the one calmly walking toward the half-dead younger Ye Mo, who looked nothing like anyone from the Fire Yang Sect.
No.
This man was far too beautiful.
Too dangerous... and too wrong.
He wore brilliant red wedding robes embroidered with black thread, the fabric flowing like liquid fla with every step.
His long black hair spilled freely down his shoulders, glossy and wild, framing a face so sharp and elegant it looked carved by the heavens.
And his eyes—
Crimson.
Not human crimson.
They glowed like molten jade, like two slivers of fla that could burn through the soul.
A faint smile curved his lips—too gentle, yet too cruel at the sa ti, as if admiring a particularly interesting butterfly pinned to a board.
He lifted one hand lazily, pushing aside a veil of red silk draped over him, revealing the rest of his expression.
Playful.
...and predatory.
Like a groom amused on his wedding night.
Ye Mo’s eyes widened.
’...Who the hell is that?’
The n accompanying the red-robed figure bowed deeply, trembling.
"Lord Emissary," one said, voice shaking with reverence, "....there is a dying child ahead."
The man in red let out a low hum of amusent, slowing his steps beside the half-dead younger Ye Mo lying in the snow.
He crouched down.
His scarlet eyes softened... not with compassion, but with interest.
As if he had discovered a rare treasure washed ashore.
A pale fingertip brushed the young Ye Mo’s cheek.
"Mm... what a pity," he murmured, voice deep and smooth.
"So much potential... yet one foot in the grave."
He smiled wider.
A smile both beautiful and terrifying.
"Lucky for you—"
His voice dropped into a seductive whisper,
"—I enjoy picking up discarded things~."
Ye Mo’s adult self felt his heart jolt violently as a disgusting feeling crept through him.
Before he could process it—
He woke up.
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