The Mystery of a Single Word

After a long moment, Shi He finally gathered herself and walked toward the stone house closest to the new grave.

The new grave and the stone house were no more than a few dozen meters apart, even facing the doorway directly, perhaps so the living and the dead could continue to keep each other company.

An oil lamp that never went out burned inside the stone house, becoming the only light and the final hope in this desolate, ancient graveyard space.

She had only taken two steps when she looked up, suddenly freezing in her tracks, her body tensing as she began to tremble all over with fear.

"Y-you, how did you get in..."

Her lips quivered, unable to express the terror, remorse, and despair she felt at that moment.

In the direction of Shi He's gaze, inside the stone house under the grayish-white lamplight, a young Daoist priest with the divine elegance of black robes sat quietly, faint clear light shimmering around his entire body.

Who else could it be if not the Jade Pure Primordial Sect Master!

"Is this where you live? It's so empty and desolate!"

Li Qingyun sat calmly beside a stone table, holding a heavily worn foreign-leather book in his hand; the characters inside knew him, but he did not know them.

Because those individual characters were each like clusters of binding patterns, each with a different structural combination.

Yet he knew that this ancient leather book must be very important to Miss Shi, otherwise it would have been impossible for her to leaf through it so diligently that some of the binding-pattern characters were worn down and blurred.

As for how he got in, he had naturally tracked Shi He, stepping right into the lingering resonance of the binding patterns to enter.

This was