"Ji Li, do you think we should rest first?"
The Third Personality spoke with extreme caution, his voice still carrying the lingering terror of the ordeal.
Although this was not his first time escorting ghosts to the underworld, this experience had been far more "eventful."
All the way down through hell, he had witnessed exactly what kind of torment Mu Nianmei had endured.
If any one of those punishments had befallen him, it would have been inhuman agony.
Ji Li's condition had improved slightly. After dealing with Mu Nianmei, he no longer seemed as oppressed as before.
However, his overall condition was still terrible—at least, that was how he appeared.
After the Evil Spirit retreated, his eyes were left bloodshot. Combined with the increasingly pale complexion revealed beneath the hair hanging loose at either side of his face, he looked frail.
Especially since he had yet to change out of his bloodstained clothes, and the right leg of his pants was still torn open by the wind.
Ji Li stood at the entrance of the Seventh Branch, turning to look at that vast white world and the incomplete footprints in the snow.
Then he pushed open the door.
The Seventh Branch on December 24 was exceptionally deserted, entirely devoid of the bustle from the day before.
When he returned, Xiao Qian Duyue was the only one waiting for him.
Ji Li silently watched as she gradually approached him, holding out a black wooden cane.
Xiao Qian Duyue understood that matters had reached this point. Whatever she said would be useless, so she could only turn all her words into a sigh and silence.
Ji Li did not refuse. After taking the cane, he gently ran his fingers over the finely carved patterns on its handle.
Fate was truly wondrous.
He