A torrent of information exploded from the depths of Qin Yang's heart.
Qin Yang looked at the peach blossom tree before him, his mind swaying. In almost an instant, he understood many things.
Why Twelve knew so much.
Why the Drift Bottles Twelve threw possessed utterly illogical, unreasonable power—nothing could stop her Drift Bottles from exploding against his face.
Why Tai Hao had gone to such lengths to trap Twelve to death in the safest place within the Heavenly Palace.
Why...
The long list of whys instantly had answers at this moment.
Twelve was the immortal herb she herself had once mentioned—the herb that was nearly grown! A genuine immortal herb.
Not the immortal herb hanging from the beam in the Great Wilds Pot, the one that had grown completely crooked and thoroughly turned into a divine tree.
A true immortal herb contained the ultimate profundities that no other living creature possessed or could grasp.
An immortal herb that truly seized the creations of Heaven and Earth and invaded the mysteries of sun and moon.
Under the Whole World, throughout all ages, there was no existence more indisputably worthy of the word "immortal."
It was as if peals of thunder were rumbling through Qin Yang's heart.
His lips parted slightly as though he wanted to say something, but he involuntarily recalled words Twelve had once spoken.
"I'm human, the purest kind of human..."
Perhaps even Twelve herself did not know that she was the immortal herb she had spoken of.
Qin Yang forcibly swallowed the words at his lips.
He wanted to smile, yet his smile looked uglier than crying.
He raised a hand and rubbed his face, as if he could hear Twelve shouting, calling out to him.
She was right here. Good Sir, why couldn't you hear her?