Li Zhiyuan just lightly tapped into the woman's memory, without needing to alter it, just wiping away the 'mist' over how Zhao Xilu forced her to consume her own stillborn, and she realized.
She was driven crazy by the torment, in avoidance, and when she began to face reality, she naturally knew what to do.
Li Zhiyuan ended the journey to the underworld.
In his heart, came the piercing cries of two infants and the hysterical laughter of a woman.
Though neither was a pleasant emotion, he truly relished them.
This was the backlash of Wei Zhengdao's black-skinned book.
The one buried under the peach grove back home was turned into neither human nor ghost, suffering till now, still cursing Wei Zhengdao till this day.
Li Zhiyuan, on the other hand, was enjoying this sense of backlash, like a barren desert eagerly absorbing the long-awaited droplets of rain.
The gash on Zhao Yi's forehead was writhing rapidly and exaggeratedly at this moment, no, it was tearing!
