Bamboos cast mottled, swaying shadows on the window paper, and the candle flames in the inn flickered in the wind. Ye Fan smoothed out the crumpled scroll once again, his fingertips gently brushing against the edges of the bloody characters. The suffocating feeling of being enveloped by a sea of blood in his past life surged over him like a tide—back then, he could not protect what mattered most; in this lifetime, even his fingertips were tensed into blades.
"What Ye Wuji wants is not ordinary Changsheng," he said in a low voice, like iron quenched in ice. "When the blood moon hangs in the sky, he intends to use the spiritual veins of the Nine Provinces as a guide and thirty million resentful souls as a sacrifice. This is not a breakthrough; he is turning the entire continent into a cauldron, draining the vitality of all living beings to pave his path to Changsheng."
The teacup at the corner of the table suddenly cracked with fine lines.
Chapter 343