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

The sound of rain mixed with the clang of swords, creating an eerie yet beautiful symphony in the tranquil mountains and forests.


White boots trampled on mud and sand, leaving behind a trail of footprints from the darkness.


In the darkness, only a pair of bright eyes struck by the heavy rain seemed somewhat bleak.


Beyond the coldness, for some reason, there was also an inexplicable sorrow and grievance.


The white-clad woman in the rain slowly crouched down, her slender white fingertips gently brushing over a wet lock of hair on Baili An's cheek.


Even though at this moment, for Baili An, there was a living person before him, yet he lacked the strength to feed.


The woman looked at him with an indiscernible gaze and didn't continue for long, a sigh escaping her as she lifted him out of the muddy water to lean his back against a desolate rock.


Chapter 137: Death Is Not to Be Feared