The Present World was so vast that even the Central Regions, its most prosperous expanse, contained many wastelands. Some remained from battles between cultivators; some had always been thick with noxious miasma; others existed simply to block travel.
This was an unnamed mountain valley, long filled with nothing but the chirping of insects and the clamor of birds, a barren corner of the world.
Naturally, there was no sign of human habitation—
Unless "human habitation" was defined as "smoke formed from human corpses."
When King Qinguang, his long hair falling to his waist, descended here, he saw only an empty valley and a few wisps of smoke not yet fully dispersed.
A moment ago, he had still been in the Great Void Illusion Realm, enjoying the matches and observing the offstage developments of the entire Yellow River Assembly. He had idly replied to a few crane messages from that girl named Little Butterfly... before becoming immersed in Zuo Guangshu's splendid display of Daoist Arts.
"The Chu Kingdom's arts are foremost under heaven"—that truly was no empty boast. The Prodigies' many ingenious transformations of Daoist Arts onstage had also greatly inspired his own cursecraft.
Then, all at once, something stirred within him—more precisely, Su Xiuxing's dying oath and curse. Though the corresponding power had failed to spread and was cut off in time, the curse itself had still touched him. Following that faint, minuscule connection with his former subordinate, he came here.
But this place was too clean.
Too... troublesome.
Yin Guan considered himself a cold and detached man, one who did not care about this world. A casual reminder to a former subordinate, and incidentally "taking a look," were already more concern than enough.
There was no need at all to get dragged into trouble for anyone.
So his handsome