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

Mou Chen looked at the girl's youthful yet delicate features and couldn't help but be startled for a moment before his gaze settled on her slender waist.


Hanging there was an Ancient Bronze Book, his pupil color deepened momentarily, and a dangerous mockery pressed from the depths of his eyes.


So it turned out that the rumors were all true.


Mou Chen casually raised his hand and patted his shoulder, where a bloodied wound instantly bloomed into a shiny white flower. The petals went from budding to withering in an instant, and his injury recovered as if it had never been.


He lowered his head and chuckled, saying, "You don't look a bit like your mother."


The girl's eyebrows raised, seemingly a bit angry.


Mou Chen continued to scrutinize her carefully, raising a finger and waving it back and forth, saying, "You also don't look like your father."


The girl's raised eyebrows sank, but this time, there was a hint of laughter in her eyes.


Chapter 344: The Origin of the Demon Lord