As soon as the fingers touched his body, they instantly grew as if they were part of him, gripping tightly!
Witnessing this scene, Ying Xiu’s eyes gradually beca veined with a crimson hue, a hint of questioning confusion in their depths.
Since you’re dead, why crawl back?
There’s no place left for you evil ghosts in the mortal world, so why appear in his world and deprive him of the aning of life?
He looked at his mottled, paper-like body.
What Crown Prince of the Central Netherworld, what Heir of Tianxi, what Three Sons of the Heavenly Dao.
The honors and pride of the past were nothing but the foundations for today’s destruction.
How laughable that his whole life has been spent guarding and fighting for a life and suffering that did not belong to him.
From the day he was born, he was destined to be trapped in a cage of falsehood and early demise, unable to et a good end.
That Dao Sword thought deceived everyone, but it couldn’t deceive him.
The Supre Dao Pure Sword Technique could restart the consciousness of the Heavenly Mountain, and the identity of the son of the Princess made perfect sense.
But what Ying Xiu saw was not just the miracle of the Heavenly Mountain Sword Tomb.
The Vermilion Bird Zither, Ghost Tears Pearl, Yin Flute of Royal Jade, the extraordinary deceitful Talent, and the heroic spirit Hongying with the Xu Seal, her last will of submission to that young man before her death...
All these things were enough to prove the intricate relationship between that young man and the You Dynasty.
He is indeed his father’s child, but he is also... a child of the You Dynasty.
And he, Ying Xiu, the Crown Prince of the Central Netherworld, his shattered, mottled mories were nearly given to him, like charity from soone else.
He did not know how to compose with the Yin Flute of Royal Jade, nor could he completely control the Xu Seal of Hongying, yet what he couldn’t do, that young man could always accomplish with ease.
For a mont, Ying Xiu gradually couldn’t discern between himself and him, who was truly in Hell.
A false prince, outwardly gold-plated but inwardly hollow and decayed.
A true young master, returned from Nirvana to create miracles.
He ca from Hell, but one of them... should go to Hell.
An endless sense of bitterness and grievance slowly rose in his heart, and Ying Xiu suddenly felt an unprecedented weariness.
He bowed his head, his murky pupils reflecting the shadows of countless fierce ghosts, covering his mouth neurotically, uttering pitiful words like a dying old man:
"Alive in the mortal world, it’s like being in Hell; the limits I thought I knew were just the starting points for others, how ironic..."
"If that’s the case, we might as well fall into the endless Abyss together."
Ying Xiu’s eyes slowly filled with a great deal of terror, but he did not recoil or break free from this boundless sea of suffering.
He grasped the hand extended from an evil ghost’s white bones, gripping tightly, slowly walking through the sea of suffering.
Karma Fire burning his body, hundred ghosts tearing and entangling.
He used up all the courage he had in his life to walk towards the deathly Hell.
"The senior brother said, not to harm your life, but I... want to try."
"This ti, it’s your turn to go to Hell."
Amidst the faint sea of fire, a green lamp blood with cold light.
For two hundred years, as the Crown Prince of the Central Netherworld, of course, he was well versed in the legends of the Netherworld Bureau and the Taiyin Emperor.
Within this lamp was sealed a Ghost King’s heart.
The Ghost King was born in the Unclean World, the ruler of the filth in the place of unsalvageable catastrophe of Futu.
The Taiyin Emperor’s greatest rit in achieving an immortal venerable body was to reclaim the Unclean World, establishing the Nine Netherworld Mansion, setting up the Yan Jun Hall, and establishing reincarnation.
Under such grand achievents, millions of years had passed, yet the heart of the Ghost King, like the legendary undying Corpse King, remained difficult to transform.
It could only be suppressed, not destroyed.
Ying Xiu approached the green lamp, the white bone evil ghosts tearing at him seed extrely fearful of the aura emanating from the lamp, refusing to go forward.
He glanced at the half of the white bone hand still clutched in his own, let out a cold, expressionless laugh.
After throwing away the severed bone hand, he looked at the faintly burning green lamp, with a desperate gaze, speaking in a slow and indifferent tone:
"I can hardly be considered human, nor can I be considered a ghost, but the reason I stand before you is largely due to the faint lineage of the Central Netherworld within .
Though you have been dead for a million years, I believe an ancient existence like yours, even if now reduced to just a heart, still possesses consciousness."
The green lamp burns without a wick, its eerie light emanating a cold, vast consciousness that slowly spreads, causing Ying Xiu to feel like he is facing an abyss—a deathly familiarity.
Ying Xiu’s face turns ashen, and under that consciousness, despair and his Heart Demon spread like cobwebs.
He seems trapped in a terrifying dream.
Yet, he still tremulously grasps the thread leading to Hell.
His fingers touch the cold glass surface of the green lamp.
Simultaneously, he conveys an extraordinarily resolute consciousness to that lamp.
"Crack..."
A crisp cracking sound.
The delicate lamp surface is covered with countless fine ice patterns.
Ying Xiu’s lips curl into a cold, mad arc.
At least this thin, almost pitiful lineage isn’t a lie.
Only the blood of soone from the You Imperial Family can unseal this lamp; otherwise, even the Emperor’s presence cannot unlock it.
Precisely because of this, the Taiyin Emperor dared to leave this lamp in the Mortal World.
Yet the Taiyin Emperor, his nominal grandfather, has never held even half a shadow of Ying Xiu in his eyes.
Two hundred years in the world, and it wasn’t until tonight that he finally saw the Great Emperor’s true visage.
Those usually overlooked see no need to be rembered at tis like these.
Ying Xiu effortlessly shatters the green lamp, but its fragnted body does not disperse, instead swirling like fireflies around the Ghost King’s Heart.
Ying Xiu takes out the erald green heart, which barely beats once in a while, and like an apple, he brings it to his mouth, chewing slowly, letting blood drip down his chin.
His handso and clear face is rendered ineffably eerie and sinister.
He leisurely finishes eating the entire heart, then nearly deliriously laughs aloud: "Fed enough, ti to hit the road."
A sea of fire, suddenly parched.
Leaving behind vast gray lands, all dazzling white bones vanish, leaving only endless black crows swirling under the cold moon, resembling a frenzied dance of demons, their black feathers cloaking the sky.
Ying Xiu nonchalantly wipes the blood from his chin and lips, sitting atop a hill, looking down at the mist-covered world below, slowly raising an arm, and says: "Your al ti has co."
Heaven and earth abruptly darken, billions of stars hidden beneath thick clouds, even the cold moon afloat in the sky seems a wandering soul, pale and chill.
Beneath his feet, the earth bulges with countless mounds, stretching boundlessly, rapidly scattered across the lands like a city under a torrential downpour.
Baili An, standing on the peak, suddenly frowns, looking down at the trembling Yin Flute ’Fujii’ at his waist; his calm gaze turns gradually cold, yet his expression shows little surprise.
Suddenly, the sound of swords echoes.
Baili An lightly presses his palm on the jade flute, storing Fujii within his sleeve, hidden from view, turning to the excited and fervent Sword Master Yu.
And Sword Master Yu’s gaze locks onto him.
In an instant, a sense of separation from the world erges.
"Heavenly Mountain restarted, what do you think, Sect Master?"
Seeing Baili An’s calm composure, unfazed and unproud by the restart of Heavenly Mountain, this serene attitude steadies Sword Master Yu’s surging mind.
"I... cannot comprehend."
How can Heavenly Mountain Sword Tomb, severed from the Upper Pure Realm and lost in its Sword Soul, beco mortal and turn spiritual?
Baili An shook his head, saying: "This matter aside, Sect Master need only know the danger of Heavenly Mountain is resolved, and next..."
"Next?" Sword Master Yu does not understand what could be more important than the future of Heavenly Mountain Sword Tomb?
Baili An points distantly to the land, saying: "After this, Sect Master might as well consider how to resolve the looming disaster of the Great Qin Dynasty."
The north wind suddenly rises, bringing a bone-chilling cold wind.
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