The book of Xianyang Volume 17, page 10 says: Three Thousand Worlds: One, Small Thousand World. Two, Medium Thousand World. Three, Great Thousand World. It is said that wherever the sun and moon shine, it is called a world.
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Mu Ge did not know exactly how many worlds existed in the universe; she only knew that she had died, her body blown apart into shards. Yet, when her consciousness returned, she felt a depressing, dark, and blood-scented enclosing space...
Linchuan, the name of this continent.
Fine sand swirled over the wasteland, and the chasms carved by swords and axes were filled with bright red blood.
Bloodlight occupied the gray-white firmament, the blazing sun smothered by crimson, blocking out its heat.
Countless armored corpses lay silently, intertwined with the earth's yellow sands. Perhaps, at the moment their lives ceased, they had already become a part of this desolate land.
Suddenly, amidst a mound of corpses piled like a hill, something stirred slightly.
From among the crevices, a blood-stained hand, nails clogged with grime, struggled to emerge—eerie and terrifying!
That hand, exposed beyond the corpse hill, shivered slightly as the cold wind lashed against it.
A few moments later, the blood and dirt encrusted hand forcefully pushed aside the reachable bodies, gradually widening the crevice.
"Phew—!"
A muffled sound faintly came through the gap.
The sound seemed like a sigh finally released, yet also like a stoic endurance of excruciating pain.
On the corpse hill, from the artificially widened gap, another equally blood-stained hand emerged. The two hands worked mechanically without cease, and finally, finally, the gap that could only barely let a hand through was expanded enough to accommodate a person's body.
The corpses once stacked high therefore slid off to the sides, blending into the sea of bodies.
"Cough, cough..." Greedily inhaling a mouthful of outside air, only to provoke a violent coughing fit in the chest.
A slender and delicate figure, legs curled up, sat in the 'cave' she had dug, leaning against the corpses, gazing at the blood-red sun in the blood-stained sky.
Black, red, blood, and grime concealed her features, leaving only a pair of clear and penetrating eyes, as if they saw through everything in the world.
She remained silent, the once fiery red battle robe now tattered and faded from its original glory.
Leaning against the corpses, the stench of blood and decay surrounded her nostrils. She seemed unfazed, as if long accustomed. Motionless, if not for those clear eyes exuding vitality, she might have blended seamlessly with the surrounding corpses.
'I died, and lived again?'
"Tch~!" An almost imperceptible disdainful snort slipped from her nose. She raised her disgustingly filthy hand, gracefully brushing aside the dried blood-soaked hair falling over her forehead.
Such a scene, such an action, if performed by anyone else, might only evoke horror, disgust, and revulsion. But with her, it miraculously appeared captivating, charming, and elegant.
The disdainful sound, dispersed around.
In those crystal-clear eyes, a faint layer of sorrow emerged.
Yet, after a moment, it disappeared without a trace.
Yes, she had died and been reborn.
Death was merely an old and melodramatic story of loyalty and betrayal.
In her past life, was she described as dazzling as the moon, accompanied by stars? Perhaps, it was this very reason that led to her ultimate demise. Human envy, when driven to madness, can destroy a world.
At this moment, the only thing she clearly knew was that she was still alive. She could still breathe freely, and feel the sensation of blood coursing through her limbs and veins.