At last, Donghuang Shuyu remembered what her junior brother had been like back then.
Though she had never seen Wang Xian's flesh-and-blood body mangled beyond recognition—after all, even Dongfang Nishang had never witnessed that scene—only the Old Daoist had...
The wind and snow that year had been no less fierce than today's.
The young woman imagined her master finding her junior brother, barely clinging to life, on the mountain path. She wondered how much care and how many precious medicines it had taken to drag Wang Xian back from the gates of death.
Thinking of this, she couldn't help taking Dantai Xiaoxue's hand and letting out a wistful sigh. She said no more.
She even ignored Bai Yijun, who had been watching her nervously.
Dantai Xiaoxue had naturally heard Dongfang Nishang tell the story of what happened back then. But she had been too young at the time to understand the agony of a thousand swords piercing the body.
After all, those hardships had never happened to anyone close to her. She simply couldn't comprehend them.
Only now, hearing her senior aunt recount it again, did the young woman suddenly jolt with shock.
She thought of Sima Jue, who had vanished from the Kunlun Sword Sect, and Duanmu Xi, who had gone to the Goddess Palace.
Holding her senior sister, she murmured, "My junior brother must have been in so much pain back then!"
Hua Mantian, Tang Qingyu, Tang Shisan, and the other women—even Bai Xue, Song Tian, and Bai Zhi—were all stunned in that instant.
No wonder the Devil King atop the peak had suddenly flown into a rage!
If it had happened to them, it would have been a blood feud to the death!
Good heavens!
Tang Qingyu cried out, "Little sister, if I stabbed you nine times,