The ground in the Forbidden Forest had split open like a wound that could never heal. Even if the wound closed, the scar would remain.
Fate Weavers.
This was probably the cultivation inheritance Qing Chen found hardest to understand. At one point, he had even felt that a profession capable of steadily continuing itself and foreseeing the future should not exist in this world at all.
Seeing his furrowed brow, He Jinqiu lightly remarked from the side, "Don't envy them. Every Fate Weaver only lives to sixty. Once they reach sixty, they begin encountering misfortune frequently, and eventually die horribly."
"Mm." Qing Chen suddenly remembered that his brother Qing Zhun had been the same. It seemed that all Transcendents who directly touched the world's "rules" had paid a corresponding price.
At the Third Division's encampment, everyone was packing up and preparing to retreat. No one noticed Qing Chen and He Jinqiu's conversation.
Boss He continued, "Fate Weavers have always had a custom. When they are about to turn sixty, they voluntarily enter Forbidden Zones and wait for their misfortune to come one after another."
"They sound rather accepting of it," Qing Chen said.
"Not at all." He Jinqiu shook his head. "Their predecessors also fought against fate and tried to evade their misfortune. Some hid in coffins, leaving themselves only a small opening to breathe through. In North America, there is a Forbidden Item called the Poisoned Wine Cup. Once you fill it with your own blood, the blood turns into poisoned wine. Drinking it lets you feign death for seven days. When the Fate Weavers first obtained this Forbidden Item, they treasured it as a priceless artifact, believing they could finally escape misfortune."
"They couldn't escape it?"
"Mm." He Jinqiu nodded. "He lay in his coffin, and then a