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According to tales in the Mortal World, that year, the Young Master of Bai Tuo Mountain perished mysteriously at Nanze Mountain of Taixuan Sect.
The young genius Taoist girl appeared out of nowhere that year, opened the Moqi Hall, one of the Ten Hidden Halls, and traveled thousands of miles to Nanze Mountain.
She took away the Vermilion Bird Qiankun Bag, a personal belonging of the Young Master of Bai Tuo Mountain.
So were curious as to what treasure was stored within the Vermilion Bird Qiankun Bag, such that this exceptionally gifted, stunningly talented girl kept it close for over two hundred years.
A disciple from Taixuan Inner Sect offered a solution, saying it was a sword, a fragnted sword nad Quansheng.
Back then, when the Sword Master saw that sword fall out of the Vermilion Bird Qiankun Bag, he wailed in anguish for the first ti in his life, crying until his hair turned white and his visage shattered.
Later, the two even fought fiercely; one was a prodigy, the other an esteed Sword Master.
It was said that the fight was solely for a fragnted sword that could not be restored.
So said Yin Baishuang overestimated herself, relying on her natural talent to arrogantly challenge the foremost person of the Heavenly Dao.
Others said the Sword Master used his superior cultivation realm to gravely injure that rare genius, causing her cultivation realm to fall to the Dao Seeking First Realm.
But what the truth really was... no one ever knew.
That year could be regarded as the most eventful autumn in the history of Mortal World’s Immortal Path, besides the thrilling and tragic battle between the righteous and the demonic paths.
The Young Master of Bai Tuo Mountain died inexplicably, later taken away by his mother, Lady Ying Ji of Houtu, who used secret ancient arts to resurrect him.
From then on, Central Netherworld and Tianxi beca distinctly divided, father and son fractured; the Young Master of Bai Tuo Mountain then ventured onto the Ghost Path, gaining widespread fa, the life of the Ghost Sword Prince to be eternally renowned!
In the sa year, Su Guanhai’s daughter of Taixuan Sect, on a frosty night, ascended alone to the small Thunder Jade Mountain, and endured nine heavenly tribulations with a boundless state of being.
After the heavenly tribulations, a rare spectacle unfolded at Taixuan; nine ancient and vast Scripture Pavilions emitted nine-colored divine light, and the most mysterious and ancient nine scriptures each miraculously grew a nine-petal white lotus; the lotus petals were pure and flawless like a streak of the most sacred and clean light between heaven and earth.
Nine scriptures, nine lotuses.
Only within the heart of the nine-petal white lotus was there a hint of darkness.
The nine-petal white lotus gave birth to a dark mystery.
On the night of the heavenly tribulation, the daughter of the Taixuan Sect Master awakened the divine aperture heart and her innate heart scripture.
Her father nad her "Taixuan Birth Lotus."
The next day, the daughter of the Taixuan Sect Master descended the mountain and headed to the Cangwu Divine Palace of the David Cangwu; no one knew what she took away from there that day.
The autumn wind blew, the courtyard deep and quiet, an old courtyard house located at the border of Central Netherworld seed deserted for a long ti, a willow bent low, its dim moonlit reflection casting coldly, the courtyard littered with fallen apricot leaves, unkept and bleak.
"Creak..."
A soft sound.
The decrepit, rotting wooden door was pushed open by a hand, and Du Yicui, her figure slightly bulky, held a heavy stone jar.
The strong herbal sll bubbled from the jar; upon opening the wooden door, a more pungent odor than boiled herbal dicine assailed her nose.
The stench of blood, sweat, body odor unwashed for ages, and an indescribable excretory scent brewed an unbearable foulness in the cramped, damp room.
The entire air was sticky, humid, dark, and reeked of heavy malice.
Du Yicui’s eyes showed undisguised disgust, involuntarily raising her sleeve to cover her nose as she looked at the cramped space and unbearable stench, feeling an instant urge to turn and leave.
But when she gently caressed her bulging belly, the struggle in her eyes gradually turned to resolve, and she fully opened the half-closed wooden door.
She put on a smile she considered charming and seductive, pushed the door open, and entered. Her voice was extrely delicate and soft: "Your Highness, are you feeling any better today?"
In the damp, dark, and foul-slling room, absolute silence reigned. It was as if she were engaging in a casual conversation with empty air, receiving no response whatsoever.
Du Yicui, protecting her abdon, groped her way to the table in the dark and placed the steaming dicinal soup on the desk.
It was close to dusk, yet the distinguished patient in the room showed no intention of lighting a candle, so Du Yicui had to do it herself.
"Swipe..." The flint struck in the dim environnt, producing a faint spark, and finally, a slight abnormal sound ca from the direction of the bed.
As the candle fla ignited, the warm orange glow spread slowly like flowing water.
A single flickering fla illuminated a corner of the room, casting alternating light and shadow on that face.
The face was wrapped in filthy bandages, with fresh blood mixed with pus oozing through the cotton cloth.
Through the gaps in the bandage, horrific burn scars were faintly visible on his face, with blood-stained scars obfuscating the original skin.
Ying Xiu sat curled at the corner of the bed, hugging his knees. The instant the candle fla lit up, his eye corners twitched violently, as if the pain of that burning day was seared vividly into his body once again.
He curled himself into a ball. Once, his eyes were distinct and bright, but now the candlelight could hardly dispel the murky poison within.
His clothes were no longer identifiable in their original color. Often, fallen scholars have a scent of poverty, but for Ying Xiu at this mont,
even ’poverty’ was a flattering description.
He stared intently at that single fla. Beneath the gauze, his lips, already rotten and unable to cover his teeth and gums, moved slowly.
His voice seed as if it had been ruined by the thick, rolling smoke, sounding hoarse and unpleasant: "Put it out..."
Ordinarily, Du Yicui would have obeyed this Highness without question, not daring to defy.
But following that gentleman’s instructions, she had cared for him in this desolate, dilapidated courtyard for a full three years.
Throughout these three years, he had always remained in this dying and decadent state.
In a great conflagration, he lost his forr handso appearance, seemingly losing along with it the aura and spirit of a Crown Prince in the sea of flas.
Du Yicui’s patience had been completely worn out in these dull three years, though because of his Crown Prince identity, she still had so lingering hopes.
But as ti dragged on, the Crown Prince vanished without a trace, and the people of the Central Netherworld Dynasty seed to act as if this prince did not exist, never sending anyone to search, nor releasing a single piece of news.
Du Yicui heard that three years ago, after Lady Ying Ji was wounded by the Heavenly Seal Sword Master in the collapse of the Xijian Sect, she appeared to have gone completely mad, remaining silent.
anwhile, over the past few years, the Central Netherworld Dynasty had been in severe political turmoil, with various vassal forces within the Dynasty starting to stir, revealing their claws.
Due to the ’Ghoul Calamity’ originating from the Nine Nethers, many nations in the Mortal World were stricken, and the matter was so extensive that it even alard the Upper Pure Realm.
The Taiyin Emperor, as one of the Four Saints, held an unshakable position among the Six Realms, yet the Upper Pure Immortal Realm clearly had intentions to suppress the Central Netherworld Dynasty.
All signs pointed to the nearing end of the Central Netherworld Empress’s reign.
If the Central Netherworld Dynasty could scarcely manage its own survival, then this Crown Prince in the room was nothing more than a useless, nominal existence.
Du Yicui felt for a mont that her future was bleak, and naturally, her attitude towards Ying Xiu grew colder by the day.
She did not extinguish the candlelight as he asked, instead bringing a bowl of steaming herbal dicine to the window.
Perhaps due to her body becoming more and more cumberso and difficult, the temper of a pregnant woman could hardly be described as good. Du Yicui cast a cold glance at Ying Xiu, devoid of her usual patient coaxing manner, heavily placing down the bowl instead.
"For the past few years, Your Highness has lived like neither human nor ghost. I could not watch without feeling profound sadness. If Your Highness truly has no will to live, I will not dare to vainly attempt to forcibly hold Your Highness here. This dicine was hard to co by, barely keeping Your Highness’s life tethered.
If Your Highness wishes to abandon it, it would rely take a word. From now on, I will certainly no longer shalessly go to the Ancient Alliance Hierarch to beg for dicine on your behalf."
Ying Xiu’s eye corner twitched slightly and slowly raised his gloomy gaze, with a hint of sarcastic ambiguity in his voice: "So it was Gu Sansong of the Wandao Immortal Alliance."
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