Blood. Blood filled his vision...
Qi Si stood in a pool of blood and looked up into the distance. A chain of mountain ridges lay sprawled across the vast land, like a sleeping woman.
For an instant, he saw the white-haired, white-robed Ancestral God crouched like a beast, slightly raising her head as she watched him from the corner of her eye.
At some point, the tent behind him had vanished. Golden vines began drifting through the heavens and earth, hanging down rootlessly from the high sky, lightly brushing against his cheeks.
He raised a hand to touch them, but his fingertips passed through the phantoms of the vines as though entering an intangible realm. The instant he touched them, the leaves scattered into faint golden glimmers.
Baima stood among the flock, watching Qi Si from neither too near nor too far away. The goats also turned their heads toward him, their horizontal pupils cold and strange.
"Your hands are covered in blood." Baima and the goats opened and closed their mouths as they stated it calmly.
Qi Si lowered his eyes to look at the blood on his palms. Scarlet streams draped down both sides of his hands like ribbons, like the khatas herdsmen gave to travelers.
Qi Si bared his teeth in a grim grin, yet began to laugh. "Yeah. I've killed a lot of people. Of course my hands are covered in blood."
He condensed the [Divine Chisel] in his hand and stabbed it toward the nearest goat.
The sharp carving knife pierced through the goat's neck. Blood gushed out, staining its white fleece.
One goat fell, but the others remained standing calmly and indifferently, staring at Qi Si, motionless as statues.
Qi Si suddenly remembered that, for a period during those long years, he had hated