"Alas." Sitting in the courtyard, Emperor Xinghuo let out a sigh. "If only I hadn't given the World-Defining Stone to Xunyi back then."
His son was practically ruined.
He had tried countless methods, but none had worked. The wound in his heart had seeped into the very essence of his soul. Even after sealing away his memories, his son, Xinghuo Xunyi, still harbored a soul-deep loathing for cultivation. He no longer wished to cultivate; in the depths of his heart, he detested it. He had even invited some Chaos Realm giants skilled in illusions to weave illusionary realms, hoping to guide him through them, but it was still useless. He wanted to treat the sickness of the heart with medicine for the heart, to weave an identical illusionary world—but other experts could not perfectly replicate...