Spirit Tablets

On Ninth Peak, the four disciples departed. The sorrow they showed as they left was no pretense—perhaps grief for fallen fellow disciples, or perhaps helplessness before their own fates.

Within the bloodstained sword case, the White Rainbow Sword was steeped in blood, faintly humming. The sorrowful sound within the sword made one feel a bone-chilling cold without realizing it.

"Yin'er." Ning Chen looked toward the little girl practicing her swordsmanship not far away and called softly.

"Is something wrong?" Yin'er jogged over and asked.

"Can you sense the sword's voice?" Ning Chen asked.

Hearing this, Yin'er stepped forward, reached out to touch the body of the White Rainbow Sword, and tried hard to sense the sound within it.

After a long while, Yin'er rose, shame on her face. "I can only hear sorrow in the sword. I can't make out anything else."

"It's all right."

Ning Chen gently rubbed the little girl's hair and said calmly, "You have not cultivated for long. Being able to notice this much is already remarkable. Go on and continue practicing your sword."

"Mm."

Yin'er answered, then jogged back to the bamboo grove and continued practicing her sword.

Before the peak, Ning Chen waved a hand and put away the blood-soaked White Rainbow Sword. His gaze turned toward distant Message Peak, glimmers of light flickering through his deep, dark eyes.

Before Soaring Cloud left, he seemed to have already known his fate. Why had he still chosen to leave?

Qi Huan and Ayluo Zhen clearly knew something. Why had they refused to speak of it all along?

Just how many unknown secrets were hidden within the Ink Sect? And what role had the Ink Lord played in all this?

Countless questions wound around Ning Chen's heart like fog. He pondered for a long time but