Tragic Loss in the Netherworld

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The night was so silent, so profound, its darkness suffocating. Occasionally, a few streaks of violet light slipped across the horizon. Everything seemed peaceful and harmonious—until a scream, piercing to the bone, shattered it all.

Looking out, one saw a woman in red, falling to the earth like a meteor of violet light. A trace of blood lingered at the corner of her mouth, her gaze filled with sorrow yet tinged with an inexplicable sense of release. The broken blade embedded in her body vanished in an instant, leaving behind only a terrifying wound that bled profusely, like a river of blood.

“You should not have betrayed me,” spoke a man in violet robes, who had been silent for a long time. Then he turned and walked away, leaving only a seemingly lonely yet merciless silhouette, gradually disappearing into the depths of the forest.

“Ying’er!” Yu Shang awoke suddenly from his dream. “That was close. If I hadn’t woken up in time, my consciousness would’ve been devoured. This blade is truly a wicked thing—I almost fell for its trick. But why does my heart still linger on her? She should be forgotten. What meaning is there in remembering someone who no longer exists?” With these words, he sank once more into meditation.

Wandering souls guarded him, heaven and earth offered their essence, all things became one with him, healing his wounds. In just half a day, Yu Shang emerged from his meditation, moving freely once more.

In the distance, clouds and mist swirled, shifting endlessly. Faintly, an ancient, broken city wall appeared