North Liao

In the Kunlun Snow Palace, a sage once said, those who pass away wander, while the living cannot let go. 
Once the soul departs, it will wither like the autumn grass. 
Those who are reborn from the dead, existing apart from the mortal realm, shall be shunned by all celestial sects and smitten as undead demons. 
On this day, a youth awakens from within a coffin, his blood dry and his bones chilled, to find himself a century old upon opening his eyes. 
A single tear from a sage awaited, a constant companion, may unravel the dreams of the past. 
Seeking not immortality but a mundane death, not to lament with the ages over lost love and resentment, but only wishing to grow old with tenderness in this lifetime, beneath the white clouds that hold no envy for the heavenly realms.

Journey to the End of the Night

Meng Zifei had set up a stall in the midst of the village tribe.  


The stall was covered with a dazzling array of medicinal herbs.  


The roots of the herbs were still clinging to slightly moist soil, seemingly just dug up.  


The tribe wasn't populous, but in front of the stall, a crowd had gathered, with injuries of varying degrees, bandages stained with blood, their faces worn with grief and sickness.  


However, their eyes were filled with gratitude and reliance when they looked at Meng Zifei.  


With just a few glances, Baili An speculated the cause and effect.  


He smiled slightly and approached, "Young Master Meng truly has a heart for the sufferings of the Mortal World, I thought you'd have left Kongcang Mountain already."


Young Master Meng's work paused only for a moment before he showed an apologetic expression to Baili An and then continued to wrap and distribute the medicine packages to the injured villagers.  


Chapter 118: The Seed is Planted