The Myriad Souls Banner stirred without wind, snapping and rustling as countless twisted, agonized phantom souls struggled and howled across its surface, releasing silent shrieks that made one's soul tremble.
Nangong Wan stood not far away, her fingertips icy cold.
As she looked at Li Xuanxiao, it felt as though an invisible hand had clenched tightly around her heart.
She did not understand. She truly did not understand.
He had never needed to do this!
The flames of war across the Nine Great Regions had already died out, and order had only just begun to settle.
With his current cultivation and prestige, he was already a figure standing above the clouds.
He had a long lifespan to squander and ample time to slowly refine the resentment of the dead souls that had accumulated in the Myriad Souls Banner for untold ages.
Advancing step by step, keeping his feet firmly on the ground, steadily raising his cultivation and consolidating his foundation—that was the proper path.
This should have been a natural, inevitable cultivation journey, perhaps even one with a measure of leisure.
Yet the Li Xuanxiao before her seemed to be engaged in a mad gamble, one utterly heedless of consequences.
He was like a traveler on the brink of dying from thirst deep in the desert, suddenly discovering a cup of poisoned water.
Though he knew it was drinking poison to quench thirst, he still greedily—almost frantically—drank in that deadly sweet spring.
Even though Li Xuanxiao had already reduced the pain at this moment,
the aura around him remained violent and chaotic, like a cauldron of boiling oil. Thick blood clung to the corner of his mouth.
That was no ordinary blood, but "Dao blood" containing immense True Essence and the very origin of his soul!
His eyes were tightly