Medicine King Valley, Mouse Breeding Facility.
Yue Wuhuan meticulously cleaned the cages, replaced the food, and checked the health of each mouse. Over the years, in pursuit of the unique mice Song Qingshi desired, he had abandoned traditional breeding approaches, opting for alchemical and magical enhancements. Despite numerous failures, he had finally figured out the right method. A special mouse was now pregnant and would likely produce a new generation of unique offspring, thereby ensuring a stable yield.
This brood of unique mice would be his engagement gift to Song Qingshi.
Yue Wuhuan wished he could spend every waking moment in the breeding facility, attentively caring for the pregnant mother mouse to prevent any mishaps.
Suddenly, the door to the breeding facility opened.
Yue Wuhuan froze. The Medicine King Valley had multiple mouse breeding facilities, mostly filled with ordinary mice and tended by apprentices. This particular room, dedicated to the breeding of unique mice, was a restricted area, maintained under strict sterilization protocols. Only he, Song Qingshi, and Qing Luan had access.
Song Qingshi was out.
Qing Luan would never brazenly enter like this.
The Poison Mist Array and other protective measures showed no signs of disturbance. The Blood King Vine he'd secretly placed showed no reaction, and he sensed no presence.
In the world of cultivation, such a situation signified impending danger.
A menacing gaze fell upon him, sizing him up as though he were a beautiful prey awaiting its demise. A nonchalant whistle sounded...
Upon entering the breeding facility, Yue Wuhuan had followed stringent sterilization procedures, donning a white robe and leaving his golden mask on an outer shelf. Now, with danger materializing so stealthily, he had no time to activate his Cold Jade Technique to obscure his face with poison. All he could do was lift his radiant face and softly ask, "May I leave?"
Before him stood an unfamiliar cultivator, tall and handsome, adorned in a robe woven from golden feathers and dark jade, armed with myriad magical artifacts. The glowing sword at his waist was clearly no ordinary piece. He looked at Yue Wuhuan as if amused, then suddenly unleashed an overwhelming spiritual pressure imbued with killing intent, aiming to force the audacious Foundation Establishment cultivator before him to his knees.
This was a Nascent Soul cultivator.
Yue Wuhuan struggled to maintain his footing as the residual force of the spiritual pressure affected the nearby mice, eliciting agonized squeals.
These were Song Qingshi's most cherished mice; they could not be harmed.
In a frantic hurry, Yue Wuhuan activated a barrier around the cages and pleaded, "Please don't kill me here; it would defile this place. Take it outside."
The Nascent Soul cultivator was somewhat surprised to see him resisting the urge to kneel. He then noticed the mice protected by the barrier and frowned disdainfully. With a flick of his fingers, several wind blades ripped the roof off, shattered the walls, and sent debris raining down upon the mouse cages and experimental equipment. Years of work were destroyed in an instant; countless mice either died or escaped...
Yue Wuhuan clutched the cage housing the pregnant mouse, shielding it from all attacks.
His ceremonial crown was knocked off, his long, luscious hair unraveled. Struggling against the oppressive force, his internal organs took a toll, and a trickle of fresh blood leaked from the corner of his mouth...
Yue Wuhuan sat on the ground, staring in disbelief at the scene before him.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zhao Ye, or you can call me Immortal Yuan Yang?" The man who called himself Zhao Ye stepped forward, violently snatching the cage of white mice from Yue Wuhuan's arms. He glanced at it distastefully and said, "What is this trash? Utterly filthy."
He tossed the cage into the air and released multiple wind blades that shredded it to pieces. Enjoying Yue Wuhuan's shocked expression for a moment, he then formed a hand seal and conjured a raging fire that incinerated all the blood and corpses. He chuckled, "Can you see me now?"
Yue Wuhuan forced his gaze back, asking cautiously, "Immortal Yuan Yang was said to have entered an eternal closed-door meditation eight hundred years ago. Who are you, and what grudge do you bear against Medicine King Valley?"
When a cultivator has no hope of further advancement, they enter eternal closed-door meditation—either dying or ascending, never to emerge otherwise. According to the Medicine King Valley's records, Yuan Yang was an exceptionally willful Nascent Soul cultivator who, in order to break through his limits, had been in eternal meditation for many years and was assumed to have perished. Why would he emerge before making a breakthrough and target someone he had never met?
"Ha! Eight hundred years? No wonder this body smelled strange and even had mushrooms growing on it. I thought it was a zongzi," Zhao Ye laughed heartily. "Let me reintroduce myself: I am Temporal Tasker No. 081. Just returned from the Primitive World and received a temporary mission from the system to clean up the mess made by some rookie."
Yue Wuhuan stared blankly at him, understanding not a single word.
Zhao Ye scratched his head. He was a person with a terrible disposition, whose soul, for some unknown reason, had been absorbed into a system and chosen as a tasker after his death. He had completed many missions with a high success rate. This time, the system had hurriedly sent him a mission, flooding half a book into his mind, tasking him to eliminate cannon fodder that had disrupted the destiny lines and to rescue the true protagonist—all with a strange condition attached...
It sought to capture Yue Wuhuan's despair.
Zhao Ye occasionally received such tasks with additional conditions, always with hefty rewards.
This particular mission felt like a vacation.
"Your rescuer is Song Qingshi, right? I've never seen such a foolish rookie," Zhao Ye squatted down, smirking as he complained. "Novice missions have a difficulty safeguard, extremely straightforward. It was just about rescuing the main receiver. How could he mess it up and rescue a piece of cannon fodder like you?"
Yue Wuhuan snapped out of the pain caused by the destruction of the breeding room. Perfectly conveying a sense of fear, he grasped the key point and cautiously asked, "What do you mean by the 'main receiver'?"
Zhao Ye said, "Bai Zihao. He is the Child of Destiny in this world."
Yue Wuhuan thought for a moment and then asked, "What about me?"
"You are someone who should have died long ago," Zhao Ye retorted, frustrated with the incompetence of the new recruit. "Even if the main receiver isn't virtuous, at least they're pure, untouched by men, right? How could he mix them up with a promiscuous, filthy creature like you?"
Yue Wuhuan started to tremble slightly.
Sensing his fear, Zhao Ye continued his humiliation. Vividly describing scenes from the book where Bai Zihao willingly accepted his advances, all the indecent postures, the explicit dialogues, and then watched his shameful expressions. Happily, he exclaimed, "You really are quite despicable."
Yet, this despicable creature was truly beautiful.
Zhao Ye had also been on missions of this sort. He preferred the 'main receiver' type—clean, cute, easily embarrassed, and simple to please. All he needed to do was rescue them from the villainous antagonist, pamper them tenderly, share blissful nights, and ensure their lifelong happiness to earn high scores and complete the mission.
He found himself disliking Yue Wuhuan, a libertine of a beauty, but as his eyes drifted across the teardrop-shaped mole beneath Yue Wuhuan's eyes, his sumptuous features, and slender waist, a certain itch developed within him. Even without the additional mission objectives, he wanted to torment him until he plunged into the depths of despair, before finally killing him. The reason he revealed details about his mission was that he sensed Yue Wuhuan's inherent pride; he wanted to strip away everything Yue held dear, destroy it, and then end his life.
He adeptly used humiliating words to probe Yue Wuhuan's vulnerabilities.
The only response from Yue Wuhuan was: "I don't believe it."
How could one believe something so fantastical?
Zhao Ye was prepared. When he accepted this auxiliary mission, he had researched the rookie's data. Now was the perfect time to display it through a Water Curtain Technique.
The Water Curtain revealed Song Qingshi accepting his system mission. Though ravaged by years of illness, looking emaciated and wearing strange clothing, those eyes—the clearest eyes—were unmistakable. This was the young man he loved...
Within an odd space, Song Qingshi swore to an equally odd orb: "I've read thousands of books, possess a photographic memory, extensive medical and nursing knowledge, have elective courses in psychology, and can resolve all emotional and physical traumas of the 'main receiver.' Moreover, I have a rich experience in romance and am good at communication. I will absolutely complete the mission!"
...
Yue Wuhuan's eyes widened; he was dumbstruck. After the Water Curtain Technique faded, he finally came to his senses and pleaded desperately, "I don't believe it; I want to see Qingshi, I want to ask him!"
"You won't see him again," Zhao Ye said, delivering the cruelest blow, "He made a serious mistake, failed the mission, and has been taken back for punishment."
Yue Wuhuan was shocked. "What kind of punishment?"
"I failed once and had my memory erased, so I don't remember the specifics, but it must be dreadful," Zhao Ye mused, tilting his head. He chuckled, "Don't dwell on it. He won't come to rescue you. You might as well beg me. Maybe I'll show some mercy and spare your life."
The book from the system portrayed Yue Wuhuan as a mindless, beautiful vase, with a constitution ill-suited for cultivation—likely having reached his current level through pills alone. Now that Song Qingshi had been taken away, this insignificant creature hardly warranted any effort. However, the book did offer intriguing descriptions of bedroom skills; he was curious if Yue Wuhuan was as enticing in service as described. If pleased, he might indulge him with a few more days to live before growing bored and ending him.
Yue Wuhuan lowered his head, trembling as he said, "I beg for Your Excellency's mercy..."
The fire in the breeding chamber was nearly extinguished, leaving a myriad of charred remnants and embers dancing in the wind.
Zhao Ye approached and lifted Yue Wuhuan's chin, ambiguously stating, "Let's see how you perform."
Yue Wuhuan hesitated for a moment before tremulously reaching for the belt of Zhao Ye's golden feathered, dark jade robe.
The moment he touched it, Zhao Ye seized his hand, examining it carefully. He couldn't help but admire, "Such beautiful hands, perfect for serving men. Though, they have a few calluses. You should take better care of them."
In the places he frequented, he particularly enjoyed playing with beautiful hands, and Yue Wuhuan had the most beautiful hands he had ever seen. Just these hands alone were worth playing with for half a month.
Yue Wuhuan's trembling intensified. With great effort, he unbuckled the belt, disabled the protective array on his robe, and then looked at Zhao Ye with pitiful eyes. His voice was soft but tinged with a hint of excited desire, "Wuhuan knows many techniques; I can surely serve Your Excellency to your satisfaction..."
What a sultry voice you have; it must be even more captivating when you cry out in bed.
Zhao Nie reaches out, eager to savor this beauty that could overthrow empires.
Yue Wu Huan steps back two paces, smiling, "No rush."
Suddenly, numerous fiery-red vines burst forth from the ground, frenziedly entangling themselves around Zhao Nie.
Zhao Nie realizes the mouse intends to fight back. Yet, what good would it do to shed its ceremonial robes in the face of overwhelming force? He sneers, effortlessly tearing the vines apart. As they fall into the fire, they burst into flames and sparks. More Blood King vines surge up, attempting to block his pursuit but to no avail. He steps closer to the struggling sacrificial pawn, coldly saying, "I would have been gentle, had you shown some gratitude."
Yue Wu Huan retreats slowly, his appearance pitiable. He clutches his collar tightly; his beautiful phoenix eyes filled with pleading, yet he remains speechless—a sight that could arouse any man's sadistic desires.
Zhao Nie becomes increasingly excited, unaware that behind him, a beautiful golden-red butterfly emerges from the burning Blood King vines. Camouflaging itself amidst the drifting sparks, it quietly lands on Zhao Nie's neck. Instant paralysis follows, venom courses through him; his robust body starts decaying rapidly, limbs falling off piece by piece.
Yue Wu Huan straightens up, his face no longer displaying 'pitifulness'; what replaces it is a maniacal grin full of bloodlust.
Zhao Nie finally realizes that he's not dealing with the naive beauty from the files. All the fear and timidity were just acts, a ruse to lower his defenses, waiting for the final blow. It's already too late.
The Nirvana Butterfly has finally found its test subject.
"Celestial Lord, do you enjoy such theatrics?"
"Celestial Lord, have you been entertained?"
"Celestial Lord..."
Yue Wu Huan's body still trembles slightly. Looking at the rotting flesh leaking foul-smelling black liquid on the ground, his eyes show no pity, only disgust. Carefully avoiding the filth, he places this wicked soul into a specially crafted soul lantern, saying, "This lantern was originally crafted for Qing Shi; a pity that you've soiled it."
Zhao Nie's soul futilely crashes around inside the lantern, longing to burst free and kill this madman.
"There are many things about Qing Shi that don't fit this world. He hasn't tried to hide them," Yue Wu Huan holds the soul lantern tenderly, "I've known for a long time that he's not from here. I was afraid to ask... afraid he might disappear. So, I had this lantern made; if he ever leaves this world, I can bring him back, to stay with me forever. I'll treat his soul gently, without harm."
He feels a twinge of unease, hesitatingly asking Zhao Nie, "Is this pathological?"
Trapped in the soul lantern, Zhao Nie wishes he could curse this lunatic's ancestors.
The barrier in the Netherworld Secret Realm has cut off his connection to the Phoenix Blood. Yet, by now, Song Qing Shi should already be out.
Yue Wu Huan bites off his nail, chewing his finger to draw blood, attempting to stay calm. Yet the pain fails to soothe his anxiety; it only makes him more irritable. In his rage, he tears the loathsome soul into shreds and then reassembles it, "Give Qing Shi back to me! He's mine!"
He is an expert in tormenting souls, tearing and reassembling them time and again.
Zhao Nie is in so much pain that he's on the brink of collapse; his soul steadily weakened until a flaw emerges.
Seizing the opportunity, Yue Wu Huan infiltrates his soul to directly examine his memories.
But there were no lies...
The unfathomable truth is that Song Qing Shi had accepted a mission from a mysterious system to save the book's protagonist, Bai Zi Hao. However, for some inexplicable reason, he ended up saving himself, causing the mission to fail. Failure meant a return to the system's space to face punishment and memory erasure, before embarking on a new task.
He can't locate where this system resides...
He can't find out where Song Qing Shi is either...
Yue Wu Huan is terrified; he claws at his wrist, gouging out bloody marks, frantically attempting to reassure himself not to be afraid.
Qing Shi does love him.
Qing Shi promised that once the special breed of mice were successfully bred, they would become life partners. But where are the lab mice?
Hesitating for a moment, Yue Wu Huan turns towards the ruins that are still smoldering. Throwing caution to the wind, he rushes in, disregarding the intense heat, desperately lifting broken roof tiles and fragments of walls, trying to find any surviving lab mice and the research data on them belonging to Qing Shi.
His hands blister from the burns, his body singed in multiple places. But he searches relentlessly, only to be met with disappointment, time and again.
A sudden sense of apocalyptic dread fills his heart.
His lab mice are gone...
Has he also lost his life partner?
Happiness is but a fleeting illusion, a fantasy born of love and longing.
A thought suddenly occurs to Yue Wu Huan. He takes out Song Qing Shi's soul token from a mustard seed bag. The token is covered in cracks, on the verge of shattering. He gathers various materials, attempting to preserve the token and prevent its disintegration. However, the cracks only grow larger and more numerous...
The love-lock around his neck can no longer withstand his bone-chilling despair and eventually backfires.
The dammed-up affection floods forth, shattering the fragile strands of sanity.
The depth of his love equates to the depth of his despair.
Yue Wu Huan clutches the nearly shattered soul token, loses his balance, and slumps down amidst the ruins. Suddenly, he feels a moist sensation at the corners of his eyes. Peculiar droplets fall onto the scorched earth. Is it raining? He touches the wetness, tasting it. The bitterness is almost unbearable... are these his tears?
He still has tears?
How laughable...
Yue Wu Huan's breathing grows erratic, increasingly labored, until he struggles to take in air. His heart convulses painfully; his thoughts become chaotic. He knows he's on the brink of collapse. He knows he should trust Qing Shi, wait for Qing Shi, stop his mind from spiraling—but the truths he saw in Zhao Nie's soul keep surfacing, impossible to ignore.
Song Qing Shi answered the wrong question, saved the wrong person, and bestowed gentleness where it was undeserved.
Bai Zi Hao is the correct answer; he is the wrong one.
What is Song Qing Shi's approach to mistakes?
Mistakes from his mentor, he diligently rectifies...
Mistakes in friendships, he abandons without a second thought...
Mistakes in his path, he decisively obliterates...
Now, he himself has become the mistake...
Yue Wu Huan clutches his head, his teeth grinding in a cacophony of horror and despair. He can't afford to think any further.
He slowly curls into the darkness, trembling incessantly. He claws at his hands until they're bloody, wishing he could tear off his skin. He loathes these beautiful hands suited for serving men, loathes his body, his face, his hair, his eyes—he wishes to destroy them all.
Yue Wu Huan is a malicious madman, impure in both body and spirit, not the innocent and lovable protagonist worthy of universal pity.
Therefore, he is a mistake, unworthy of salvation.
"Qing Shi, don't abandon me..."
...
When An Long arrives at Medicine King Valley, it's already dawn. He discovers the protective barriers are broken, the poison mist formation forcibly disabled. Everyone in the valley lies about, under a sleeping spell.
Medicine King Valley has turned into an open treasure vault, ready for thieves to plunder.
Fortunately, the news hasn't spread far yet, and few have arrived.
An Long releases a swarm of Gu insects, devouring two demonic cultivators. The others flee in terror. Scanning the area with his psychic senses, he finally pinpoints Yue Wu Huan's location. Frowning, sensing that something is terribly amiss, he moves closer while concealing his presence. He arrives to find a scene scorched by fire, with Yue Wu Huan huddled in the shadows of the ruins. Nearby, a Foundation Building stage rogue with a curved blade is slowly approaching Yue Wu Huan, planning to take advantage of his vulnerable state to murder and loot.
The curved blade is lifted, emanating boundless killing intent, aimed at his neck.
Yue Wu Huan offers no resistance.
An Long picks up a rock and casually throws it, instantly piercing the rogue's skull. Striding forward, he wants to see what this madman is up to. But when he gets a clear look at the figure before him, he freezes...
In just one night, Yue Wu Huan's black hair has turned white. His face and body are marred with bloody wounds, his nails broken with traces of blood in the cracks. His otherworldly beauty has been utterly erased. Yet he seems numb to the pain, continuously scratching and tearing at the flesh on his arms, as though intent on annihilating himself. The only thing he seems to treasure is the shattered and tattered soul token he holds carefully in his arms.
An Long can't bear to watch any longer. He grabs Yue Wu Huan's hand, trying to halt this horrifying act of self-mutilation. But once again, auditory hallucinations resurface in his mind, weakly whispering, trying to incite the urge to kill.
"Kill him, kill him..."
"Kill him, kill him..."
"He's the one who took the person you love..."
"He's the one who led you into this abyss..."
"..."
An Long grasps Yue Wu Huan by the collar, drags him out of the shadows, and throws him into the sunlight: "Stand up! You're so pathetic that I've lost all interest in killing you!"
Protectively clutching the soul token, Yue Wu Huan collapses on the ground, unresisting. Even though a torrent of murderous intent surrounds him, even though his enemy stands nearby, he neither hears nor sees.
This man is utterly broken.
While An Long loathes Yue Wu Huan, he can't help but admit his extraordinary beauty and unparalleled talent made him a worthy opponent. Now, seeing him self-destruct, his hatred inexplicably dissipates, replaced by emptiness, loneliness, and a certain sense of helplessness.
He tries to jolt Yue Wu Huan back to awareness: "Do you know Qing Shi has disappeared?"
Yue Wu Huan's eyes flicker slightly.
Sensing the change, An Long persists: "I saw him taken away by some strange space. Do you know what it was?"
He repeats the question multiple times.
Yue Wu Huan finally emits a faint voice: "Because, I, am not the protagonist."
"Protagonist what?" An Long is perplexed. He questions several times more, but Yue Wu Huan offers no further response. An Long recounts the events in the Netherworld Secret Realm, including how Song Qing Shi came to kill him, how he severely injured Song Qing Shi, and how Song Qing Shi attempted a Nascent Soul self-detonation. He even uses vicious words, attempting to provoke Yue Wu Huan's anger, hoping for that usual radiant smile, the mocking and irony, even an attack.
But Yue Wu Huan does nothing.
He's barely more than a corpse, breathing yet virtually indistinguishable from the dead.
"Have you lost your mind?!" An Long finally snapped, patience exhausted. He hoisted Yue Wuhuan up, contemplating landing a couple of punches to snap him out of it, but looking at the injuries covering him, hesitated, and eventually deflated. Mockingly, he added, "Qing Shi sure is unlucky. His friends aren't normal, the one he's in love with isn't normal either. All his sacrifices for you were in vain, even his death…"
Yue Wuhuan clutched his life token tightly, saying nothing.
A life token damaged to this extent means death in the cultivation world.
"Qing Shi's unemotional Daoist heart is about to break. My demonic nature is getting out of control. If he hadn't killed me, you would've been killed by me," An Long said, not interested in explaining the hallucinations in his mind, or sidestepping his own ill intentions and wrongdoings. "He didn't trust himself to kill me, so he didn't dare tell you and moved the fight away from the Valley of Medicine King… He didn't want to die in front of you, afraid that the sight would aggravate your condition."
"Ha, he couldn't even bear to hurt you in his death..."
"His last words before disappearing were for me not to kill you..."
"Yue Wuhuan! Stand up!"
"I killed Qing Shi! Come and take your revenge!"
"Where's your deadly poison? Where's your treasured sword? Where's your Blood King Vine? Come on!"
Upon hearing "Blood King Vine," Yue Wuhuan finally reacted: "Lucky…"
An Long looked puzzled: "What luck?"
Yue Wuhuan stopped talking. After a long pause, he slowly rose, pushed An Long aside, and staggered away from the Valley of Medicine King, dragging his nearly dead, battered body covered in splotches of blood.
Qing Shi had once said: Luck comes in desperate times.
He's heading to a place where luck resides…
...
An Long had already examined his physical condition and knew he wouldn't live long, so he didn't stop him. He slumped down against a crumbling wall, staring at the dim sky. Pulling out a flask of wine from his mustard seed bag, he took a harsh gulp and burst into self-mocking laughter: "What on earth is going on?"
The voice in his mind grew increasingly faint, its persistent murmurs interspersed with static:
"Don't let him go!"
"Kill him now! Kill him, kill him!"
"He'll be the death of you!"
An Long whispered, "Qing Shi said that if I killed him, I would regret it."
The voice in his mind immediately countered:
"He's deceiving you!"
"You're irreconcilable enemies! To the death!"
"Kill him now! Kill him, kill him!"
"Twice, I've caused Qing Shi's death twice!" An Long violently smashed the wine flask, clutching his aching forehead and breaking into a malevolent smile. "He never loved me, but he never deceived my feelings either. He would rather die than lie to me!"
"You're the deceiver! Shut up!"
The voice inside his head abruptly ceased.
...
At the Summit of the Indestructible, fires rage that can incinerate the soul, so fierce that one can't approach without suffering.
Such a deathtrap, oddly, is his only sanctuary of luck.
Lightning flashed across the sky, as if roaring; torrential rain poured down; the tempestuous winds blew, snapping colossal trees, seemingly desperate to impede his progress.
How many coincidences exist in this world.
Yue Wuhuan couldn't help but laugh. Without hesitation, he plunged again into the Summit of the Indestructible, into the brink of death. The same strange wind blew, attempting to carry him into a nearby crevice; this time, he chose to reject the life-saving coincidence...
Finally, he fell into the sea of flames.
Skin, hair, flesh, bone—every bit of filth and damage was incinerated. His feeble mortal veins were utterly destroyed. He willingly embraced the most excruciating pain as though he had entered the happiest of sanctuaries. The phoenix birthmark on his back sensed this joy and finally unfurled its wings, releasing his soul from the confines of his body, merging him with the blaze.
The phoenix rises from the ashes; rebirth through death.
The purest flame in existence reconstituted into the most perfect body, the most dazzling beauty ever seen. He stepped out from the ashes—noble, powerful, beyond desecration. Only a blood-red tear mole remained stubbornly near the corner of his eye, adding a tinge of desire to this sanctity, like a god tainted with the darkness after falling into an abyss.
The flames of the Summit of the Indestructible vanished. The barrier lifted, the earth trembled, rocks scattered, and a lavish palace slowly arose. Steps made of white jade were everywhere, embedded with luminescent pearls, emeralds, and various gemstones. A garden, carved from jade, was planted with plane trees, and at the center of the palace stood a tower forged in gold, reaching up to the clouds...
Donning a magnificent robe, he sat on the high throne and coldly gazed at the sky.
The dark clouds angrily dispersed, and the thunder reluctantly faded. Even the heavens couldn't challenge this power originating from the most ancient deities and could only retreat temporarily.
Celestial birds and mythical beasts sensed the aura of the king and excitedly flew towards the Summit of the Indestructible from all directions.
Lovebirds landed and transformed into a pair of demure young girls, who piously prostrated themselves on either side of the throne, paying homage. Vermilion Birds, Black Tortoise, Rocs, Peacocks…countless birds bowed their proud heads. This was submission etched into their very bones, a natural faith. They were willing to do anything for their most exalted sovereign.
"Divine Lord, what do you desire?"
The divine being on the throne lightly covered his nose, feeling the air too filthy to breathe.
The world needed a thorough cleansing—to eradicate all that is vile and dirty. He needed to destroy that sordid name, obliterate his hateful past, and eliminate the wrong answers…
"I want a storm of blood and rain, a sea of corpses…"
"I want to become the one everyone fears..."
"I want the world to henceforth be devoid of Yue Wuhuan..."