"Ungrateful disciple!"
In the underground palace, a furious shout echoed out. The scorching aura of blazing yang swept through the dark tomb chamber, bringing with it a suffocating pressure.
Princess Yinyao, dressed in a red horse-face skirt, her delicate, pale face framed by hollow eye sockets, lay prostrate on the ground.
Her eyes, with their pitch-black sockets and blood-red pupils, held none of their usual cold savagery. They were filled with fear and panic.
Before her stood Lady of Three Paths Mountain, clad in feathered robes and standing with her hands behind her back. Cool and otherworldly, aloof yet majestic, she was like a goddess treading upon the clouds.
By comparison, although Princess Yinyao was also a refined beauty, her presence and bearing fell far short of her master's.
"Please forgive me, Master. Even an ant struggles to survive. This disciple feared death and only wished to live; that is only human nature. You warned me not to tread the wicked path of slaughtering my own kind. I have kept your teachings close to heart. For the sake of our past bond, please show mercy and spare this disciple."
Princess Yinyao transmitted her voice, audible only to Night Wanderers.
After refining herself into a yin corpse, she could no longer speak like an ordinary person.
Old Clapper said coldly, "Refining yourself into a half-dead, half-living yin creature means you are no longer following a wicked path?"
A trace of bitterness seeped into Princess Yinyao's "voice."
"This disciple is not like Master, whose cultivation reaches the heights of creation and whose lifespan is vast."
With her forehead pressed to the ground, she begged bitterly, just as she used to act coquettishly before her master.
Yinyao knew that although her master appeared cold and nearly emotionless, her heart was soft. So long