“I really don’t want to let you go. If only we could fill it with lives…”
Bai Lu stopped mid-sentence.
Those blue eyes, usually as cold and clear as the moon, now held a hint of sorrow as she looked at Jiang Huai.
She stood not far from the entrance to the Secret Realm. The cold wind lifted her hair, stirring her plain white dress. The hem fluttered gently in the breeze, like the trembling petals of a snow lotus.
She was used to this outcome.
Back in the Primordial Era, for the sake of a battle’s success, many had perished in the war against the Extraterrestrial Demons.
Those young faces, those vibrant lives—she had seen far too many in her long years.
But such words could not really be spoken aloud.
So she didn’t continue.
Jiang Huai stared at the perilous, unpredictable Secret Realm entrance before him, his tone serious:
“Don’t fill it with lives.”
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his Xuan Robe flapping loudly in the wind.
That massive crack lay just ten zhang ahead of him, like a vertical demonic eye, dark and deep, devouring all light around it.
At the edges of the crack flickered eerie purple halos, brightening and dimming, like the breath of some giant beast.
“Since I’m the most suitable person, I’ll go,” he said, pausing, his gaze still fixed on the crack. “If something truly goes wrong, I can still come out, can’t I?”
Bai Lu hesitated for a moment.
She pressed her lips together, a trace of struggle flickering across her cold face.
After a long while, she added, “How about this: I’ll send a group with you. If there’s any danger, let them cover your retreat.”
She raised her eyes to look at him, her gaze carrying a plea.
“After all, the Yin-Yang Body is the Fireseed of Hope for the Five Provinces. For the future of that Fireseed, even if we have to sacrifice some…”
“No need.”
Jiang Huai shook his head, cutting her off.
He turned to face Bai Lu, his gaze calm and resolute. “I’ll go alone. I’ll take Ji Xi and test the depths first.”
“If it’s unfavorable, I’ll retreat.”
As long as he could control the remains of the previous Yin-Yang Body, he could roam freely within the Secret Realm and ascertain its depths.
Bai Lu flatly rejected his request.
She waved her hand, her motion firm: “There’s no need to discuss this further. You may be willing to gamble, but the lives of the Five Provinces you represent cannot afford it.”
She stepped closer, those blue eyes staring directly into his: “You once told me you would end this era yourself, so that your daughter wouldn’t have to go through this again.”
Her voice trembled slightly: “If you fall into danger, what would that promise mean?”
Bai Lu ignored Jiang Huai’s plea and issued her order autocratically:
“Someone must accompany you. The group won’t be large—only those I consider reliable.”
“Just Qin Xuange and Ao Yao. The Yellow Dragon Clan sisters will go too.”
Jiang Huai opened his mouth to say something but ultimately swallowed his words.
He understood why Qin Xuange was being sent.
He guessed she knew that Qin Qingyue could attach her Divine Sense to Qin Xuange’s body. If anything happened, she could lend him a hand—essentially borrowing her strength.
But why did Ao Yao have to come too? Jiang Huai didn’t know, nor could he understand.
And the Yellow Dragon Clan sisters—why were they being sent?
“Why is Ao Yao coming along?” Jiang Huai asked curiously.
Bai Lu’s expression shifted.
She cleared her throat twice, a hint of barely noticeable unease surfacing on her cold face: “Don’t worry about that. You’ll understand when it’s time; if you don’t, that’s fine too—no need to explain.”
Jiang Huai: “???”
Riddle dragons, get out of the Five Great Dragon Clans!
But since Bai Lu was at the Great Ascension Stage, Jiang Huai couldn’t overpower her.
In the end, he had to agree, leading a group of elites to investigate the Secret Realm.
If anything was amiss, they would have to retreat.
Three days later.
At the entrance to the Secret Realm, the cold wind was like a blade.
That massive crack still spanned the wasteland, like a demonic eye that never closed.
Purple halos swirled at the edges of the crack, brightening and dimming, like some strange breathing.
Faint Demonic Qi seeped out, twisting into eerie shapes beneath the gray sky—sometimes like ghostly hands, sometimes like wailing faces, then countless tiny tentacles dancing wildly in the wind before vanishing in an instant.
This scene would make anyone think the Extraterrestrial Demons were about to burst out.
Yet those Great Ascension Stage experts couldn’t go in to investigate.
The snowy plains around were utterly silent.
Jiang Huai, clad in his Xuan Robe, stood ten zhang from the entrance.
The robe flapped loudly in the wind, the corners flipping up to reveal the dark patterns of its lining.
He stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the unfathomable crack, his face calm, revealing no emotion.
The cold wind scraped across his cheeks, lifting his black hair, but he remained still, like a statue.
Behind him stood the four companions who would go with him.
Qin Xuange stood at the far left.
Today, she wore a form-fitting dark black outfit that accentuated her tall, full figure—curvaceous and elegant, with a slender waist and a full chest, every inch exuding mature charm.
Her long hair was tied high, adding to her heroic air.
She stood as straight as a pine, her phoenix eyes slightly narrowed as she studied the crack, lost in thought.
Ao Yao stood beside Qin Xuange.
The petite Azure Dragon Saintess wore a light green short skirt today, the hem just above her knees, revealing a section of fair calves.
She tilted her small face up, her big green eyes blinking, chattering quietly with Qin Xuange.
Qin Xuange had to bend down occasionally to listen, the tall figure contrasting amusingly with the petite girl.
The Azure Dragon short sword at Ao Yao’s waist was especially conspicuous, the dragon patterns on the sheath lifelike, faintly emitting a glow.
Further back were the Yellow Dragon Clan sisters, Cang Jing and Cang Ling.
Their builds were more compact than ordinary Dragon Race, powerfully robust—broad shoulders, narrow waists, long, strong limbs, every muscle packed with explosive strength.
Both wore tight, earth-yellow Battle Armor, faint yellow light flowing over it—the Yellow Dragon Clan’s unique earth-element Lingli.
The armor covered vital areas, leaving their healthy wheat-colored arms and calves exposed, skin taut with smooth lines, exuding a wild beauty.
Cang Jing, the elder sister, stood with a calm face, her gaze sweeping briefly over Jiang Huai without any extra emotion.
Cang Ling was completely different.
She swayed her Dragon Tail, striding quickly to Jiang Huai’s side, her bright face full of smiles. The earth-yellow Dragon Tail swayed gently behind her.
“Young Lord Jiang! I never thought we’d have such good fortune!”
She leaned in close—so close that Jiang Huai could see the fine fuzz on her face and smell the faint fragrance from her.
Jiang Huai smiled warmly and nodded to her: “Yes, truly good fortune. I hope we can support each other in this Secret Realm.”
Cang Ling patted her chest as a guarantee, her gesture bold, her not-so-full chest trembling slightly: “Don’t worry! I’ll show you how formidable we sisters are!”
She paused, leaned in closer, lowering her voice but unable to hide her pride: “Let you know there’s a reason Patriarch Bai Lu chose us.”
Cang Jing stood behind her, watching her sister’s antics silently, her face expressionless.
But those amber eyes lingered on Jiang Huai for a moment before shifting away.
Jiang Huai’s gaze passed over them, landing not far away.
Bai Lu held Jianjia by the hand, standing apart from the crowd.
She gazed silently at Jiang Huai, saying nothing, just watching.
Little Jianjia craned her neck, staring intently at Jiang Huai.
Those big eyes were full of dependence and reluctance.
She clutched Bai Lu’s hand, her small body leaning forward, as if ready to rush over at any moment.
On the back of her right hand, the three-colored Mark was clearly visible: the pale white petals of the White Dragon Clan, the crimson fire of the Red Dragon Clan, and the dark black patterns of the Black Dragon Clan.
Three colors intertwined, blooming quietly on her small hand, radiating a faint glow.
Jiang Huai’s heart stirred.
He walked over and crouched down to meet Jianjia’s eyes.
“Dad, when will you come back?” Jianjia asked, her voice small, carrying a child’s characteristic softness.
Jiang Huai reached out and gently stroked her head.
He said softly, “Soon. Don’t worry.”
“Then come back early,” Jianjia said, gripping Jiang Huai’s hand, her small fingers tightly wrapping around his index finger.
“Don’t be like last time.”
Last time.
Last time, he lay there like a skeleton.
Bai Lu’s eyelashes fluttered slightly.
She stepped forward and gently tugged Jianjia back.
She feared it would affect Jiang Huai’s mindset—that her daughter’s reluctance might shake his resolve.
Jianjia was taken away.
Her small figure was led by her mother, step by step backward.
But her eyes still stared unblinkingly at Jiang Huai.
Jiang Huai watched the small figure fade into the distance, a surge of indescribable emotion welling up in his heart.
He took a deep breath, turned, and strode toward the Secret Realm entrance.
Qin Xuange tightened her grip on her Spear and followed.
Cang Jing and Cang Ling exchanged glances, then stepped forward.
Five figures, under the gray sky, walked step by step toward the deep crack.
At the entrance, Demonic Qi churned and purple light flickered, like the gaping maw of a giant beast.
The churning Demonic Qi was like countless tentacles, dancing wildly in the air, as if dragging all approaching life into the Abyss.
Jiang Huai stopped.
He didn’t look back.
He just raised his hand and waved lightly behind him.
Then he stepped in without hesitation.
The Demonic Qi swallowed him instantly, the figure in the dark robe vanishing into the surging darkness.
The four figures behind him followed closely.
The Demonic Qi surged, engulfing them completely.
Inside the Secret Realm.
A chaos of nothing.
The moment Jiang Huai stepped in, he felt the world spin, as if everything was turning upside down.
All around was endless darkness—no light, no sound, nothing to reference.
Only underfoot, if it could be called “underfoot,” there was a soft, slightly spongy sensation, like stepping on humus.
He steadied himself, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
When he opened them again, faint Yin-Yang light bloomed in his pupils—black and white swirling like a slowly rotating Taiji.
His vision gradually cleared.
This was a broken world.