Sorrowful Emperor Realm.
After the first rain, the air carried the crisp, secluded fragrance of grass and trees. Even the scent of mud seemed to have turned sweet.
In this deserted world, jubilant cries rang out everywhere.
The chubby little Bei Huais pattered about on tiny feet, chasing one another and making the world brim with life.
"Someone has reached the life force of 'medicine'..."
Beneath the Great World Locust Tree, a black shadow materialized alongside a faint, eerie voice.
Bei Huai, dressed in white robes and barefoot, stood with his hands behind his back as he gazed at the scenery below the mountain. Hearing the voice, he turned, his eyes traveling from bottom to top.
The black shadow behind him cast no shadow. It wore only a black robe.
It stood three zhang tall. Beneath its enormous hood was no face, no features—only two clusters of dim ghostfire.
A skeletal hand protruded from its sleeve, still gripping that black scythe with its long shaft and long blade, resting it across its shoulder.
None knew where it was looking, nor what it was speaking of.
"The Medicine Ancestor's power?"
After speaking once and seeing that the black-robed figure did not react, Bei Huai remained calm and continued, "The Holy Spirit Continent is full of talented people. The inheritances you left behind may be rare, but there are quite a few of them. Someone will always be able to follow the vine to its roots and cultivate a trace of that power."
"You rarely come out. Yet recently, you've appeared quite often."
His meaning was clear.
Perhaps trouble had broken out somewhere again, enough to draw you out. Care to tell me? This time, the black-robed figure did not vanish before finishing its words. It deliberately lingered a while longer, its