The Sunset Mountain Range was dim and murky in the early morning.
It seemed to be shrouded in a layer of dusky gauze, and the blazing sunlight had yet to scatter the haze.
Ye Qingxian introduced the place.
She said, "The rules of the Lower Realm are weak, and its spiritual veins have been overexploited. These days, it corresponds to the Age of the End of Dharma described in those storybooks."
"This mist is actually the manifestation of dense Spiritual Energy."
"Only in this mountain range do the last Demon Cultivators of the Lower Realm still live."
I pondered this thoughtfully.
After musing for a moment, Ye Qingxian added, "The humans of the Lower Realm also have sacred cultivation grounds, such as Mount Tai and Dragon Tiger Mountain. In any case, they have maintained a relative balance with the Demon Cultivators, neither intruding on each other's territory. That's how things have been all these years."
I knew Ye Qingxian was talking about the development history of the Lower Realm.
I wasn't interested, but I still listened half-heartedly.
We walked forward step by step.
With nothing obstructing my gaze as it drifted downward, I stared at my toes and casually kicked a small stone away. Then something utterly dumbfounding happened: the little stone flew off, as if determined to cause trouble, and struck Ye Qingxian right on the head.
Ye Qingxian:
I blinked several times, wanting to pretend I was innocent. Realizing there was no way to fool her, I hurriedly pulled out the book Ye Qingxian had given me last time.
It was never too late to mend the pen after the sheep had escaped. I made as if to flip through it and see whether I had violated any sect rules.
Ye Qingxian simply grabbed my jade-like little hand.