The Mysteries of Three Lands, Longevity Ritual

Li Qing looked at the old stele man, reduced to ashes, a trace of gravity appearing on his face.

"Though he died the instant he touched it."

"Still, he died where he belonged. He saw what he wanted to see, so he can rest with his eyes closed."

Li Qing remained utterly motionless, carefully observing the illusory yet real scene before him.

The mysterious butcher was still solemnly chanting a Curse. Li Qing recognized every single word.

Yet when strung together, he could not understand what the Curse was saying.

A record book appeared in his hand, silently beginning to record the Curse being chanted by the butcher.

He wrote swiftly. In a short time, every line of the Curse had been recorded.

Having finished chanting, the butcher respectfully knelt before the stele.

It seemed as though some mysterious existence in the void had cast its gaze down upon him.

An abyssal darkness flowed from the void.

It silently descended upon him, invading his body like sulfuric acid.

The butcher rolled about madly within the darkness, as though enduring endless agony.

He frantically tore at the skin of his body. Li Qing could see him ripping chunks away from himself, piece by piece.

The wounds he tore open healed rapidly, while that black substance seemed to be filling his body.

A full quarter-hour passed before the butcher's outline became clearer. His skin was pitch-black, as though coated in a layer of black mud.

After the boundless pain, he slowly crawled to his feet, then knelt once more and performed the grand rite of three kneelings and nine kowtows.

Then something astonishing happened.

The black layer covering his body began to crack inch by inch, like shattered armor, scattering black fragments across the ground.

Only then did Li Qing see his