The White Jade Capital

Deep within the Burial Abyss of Heaven, there lay an ancient ruin.

It was said to be the remnant abode of a great power who had vanished into the mists of primordial time. The earth's veins within teemed with an inexhaustible torrent of dense spiritual energy, so potent that even the very air had been dyed a translucent milky white. To step inside was like treading into a celestial realm, a sight that soothed the heart and lifted the spirit.

The vanguard of the Nine Heavens Sacred Ground had seized this place the moment they set foot into the God Abyss. Using top-tier formations as their bones and millennium spirit jade as their bricks, they raised a sprawling temporary palace complex spanning hundreds of miles.

These palaces were arranged with exquisite symmetry, clearly delineated into primary and secondary structures. At the center stood a grand hall carved entirely from cold jade, serving as the core from which all other buildings radiated outward. Viewed from afar, the complex bore an uncanny resemblance to a true immortal sanctuary.

The outer perimeter was sealed with impenetrable vigilance.

Hundreds of Sacred Ground disciples were divided into dozens of squads, patrolling back and forth along the complex's circumference, anchored by strict formations. Their steps were steady, their gazes sharp, their aura cycling without pause—no gap of negligence was left open.

Pull any one of them out at random, place them in any mid-tier sect in the outside world, and they would easily qualify for the position of sect-protecting elder.

Yet here, they were merely ordinary perimeter guards—the background that lent the place its grandeur.

Such was the depth of the Nine Heavens Sacred Ground.

However, in the deepest recesses of this grim and imposing encampment, within the most opulent cold-jade great hall, the atmosphere at this moment was suffocating beyond measure.

Bai Ningbing stood alone by the window, staring fixedly at the churning sea of blood-red clouds outside. Her peerless face held not a trace of color, leaving only an unfathomable unease that refused to dissolve.

She wore a snow-white gown woven from thousand-strand ice silk, her cascading black hair falling like a waterfall to her waist. Unconsciously, threads of frigid aura emanated from her body, so cold that the air around her crystallized into fine ice particles. She was breathtakingly beautiful—like a goddess of the moon descended from the highest heavens, cold, aloof, untouchable.

But at this moment, those autumn-pool eyes, which should have been as calm as still water and capable of piercing through all the falsehoods of the world, were shot through with fine red veins. Pain, remorse, struggle, and a bone-deep terror had torn her pride to shreds.

"The White-Clad God of Slaughter… one sword, just one sword, and he instantly killed the half-step Body Integration elder of the Blood River Sect…"

Bai Ningbing's pale lips parted slightly, her voice hoarse beyond recognition.

Her jade-like hands clenched the window sill with such force that her knuckles had turned an unhealthy, sickly blue-white. Even as her long nails dug deep into the expensive wood, drawing faint traces of blood, she remained utterly unaware.

"Ye Xuan… is it really you? Have you… come back for retribution?"

Once the floodgates of memory were ripped open, the nightmares she had deliberately buried deep within her heart surged forth like a breached dam, drowning her completely.

Uncontrollably, her mind conjured up that night from decades past—a cold, desolate night of torrential rain and thunderous lightning.

That white-robed youth, once full of vigor, who had cherished her like a treasure, whose starry eyes had held only her—had fallen without a shred of defense into a pool of blood.

And the one who had pinned him to that ice-cold altar was none other than she herself!

It was she who had gripped that bone-carving dagger steeped in Nine Abyss Bone-Melting Liquid and driven it clean through his chest with unerring precision!

The corrosive venom of the Bone-Dissolving Water sizzled and hissed, eating away at the flesh he had once taken such pride in.

She would never, ever forget the way Ye Xuan had lowered his head, glanced briefly at the hand that held the dagger—her hand, pressed against his chest—and then slowly raised his eyes to look at her.

There was no cataclysmic fury in his gaze at being betrayed by the one he loved most. Nor was there any hatred that wished to tear her limb from limb. What she saw instead was... a kind of disbelief that cut through him like his very soul was being ripped apart piece by piece, and finally, at the very end, a hollow emptiness born of utter despair.

His gaze was a thousand times sharper than the most venomous curse in the world.

"Why..."

In the howling wind and rain, the boy's throat surged with gushing mouthfuls of black blood, staining his pristine white robes that had never known a speck of dust.

He reached out a trembling, blood-soaked hand, wanting to touch her cheek one last time, but it froze mid-air, then fell limp and powerless.

"Ningbing... for his sake, you would strip away even the last foundation of my dao path... even my immortal bone, you would tear it from me?"

"No! Stop it! Don't say any more!"

Bai Ningbing abruptly shut her eyes, clutching her head in anguish, her frail body trembling like a lone leaf shivering in the bitter autumn wind.

That hoarse, blood-soaked voice of accusation became the slow torture that had haunted her nights, year after year, with no escape.

She had believed that Ye Xuan, his immortal bone carved out by her own hands, his dantian destroyed, and his body sunk into the deathless depths of the Burial Immortal Lake—where even his bones would be gnawed clean by the baleful qi at the bottom—had long since been reduced to ashes and smoke.

And yet now, that name had burst forth like thunder from a clear sky, returning in a form more terrifying, more savage, more disdainful of the heavens, to shake the entire cultivation world once more!

Just as Bai Ningbing was drowning in the swamp of her own regret, the spiritual qi of heaven and earth outside the great hall suddenly came to a halt without warning.

Then, the air began to twist and collapse violently.

A suffocating, domineering aura, heavy as ten thousand great mountains, instantly enveloped the entire central palace.

"Thud! Thud!"

Outside the hall, countless elite disciples of the Nine Heavens Sacred Land—hundreds of them, arrogant beyond measure—and even several elder protectors who usually wielded immense authority and stood at the half-step Harmony stage, now knelt as if they were ants before a god. Their single knees slammed against the hard stone floor, heads bowed low, cold sweat beading on their brows, their postures reverent and fanatical to the extreme.

"We pay our respects to the Grand Senior Brother!"

"We welcome the Holy Son!"

Amid the earth-shaking cries, the heavy sandalwood doors of the hall were pushed open from within by an intangible force, without the slightest breeze to accompany them.

Accompanied by the sound of soft footsteps, a young man clad in a moon-white brocade robe, crowned with a violet-gold jade headpiece, crossed the threshold with unhurried steps.

Bai Ningbing's shoulders stiffened.

She slowly turned around, face expressionless, and looked toward the sandalwood doors.

The doors moved of their own accord. The two heavy panels slowly swung inward, producing no sound at all, as if pushed open by a hand unseen—that silence carried with it a strange, hair-raising solemnity.

A figure stepped inside.

He wore a moon-white brocade robe, woven from the finest cloud-mist silk. The fabric caught the light with a faint, subtle sheen, flowing gently with each step he took, like moonlight rippling across the surface of still water.

His face was exceptionally handsome—a beauty carved by the divine, flawless and impeccable. Every feature seemed shaped by the hand of heaven itself, without a single blemish. Yet hidden within that beauty was an indescribable, unsettling allure, like a flower blooming too perfectly, so breathtaking that it stirred a vague instinct to step back in unease.

No power radiated from his body; his aura was completely subdued, like a deep pool of water whose surface was deadly calm. But it was precisely this stillness that made him impossible to read, and all the more unnerving.

He merely walked in, simply stood there in silence, and yet all the light and presence within the great hall seemed to gravitate toward him as if with a will of their own.

The First Holy Son of the Nine Heavens Sacred Land.

The undisputed leader of the younger generation in the Central Divine Continent.

Bai Yujing.

He swept his gaze across the empty hall, then lifted a hand to dismiss the several attendants who had followed him inside. The men silently bowed and filed out one by one. The agarwood door closed behind them once more, releasing a dull, weighty thud.

In that instant, only the two of them remained in the great hall.

Bai Yujing stood there at ease, his gaze resting on Bai Ningbing, traveling from the arch of her brow down across her eyes, past the corner of her lips, and finally stopping at her hands, which were clenched so tightly they had turned white. There was a faint, almost playful look of amusement in his eyes, like a bored youth toying with a wounded sparrow.

Then he quirked the corner of his mouth and let out a soft chuckle.

His laughter was warm and pleasing, like fine pearls falling onto a white jade platter—so beautiful it was the pinnacle of pleasantness. Yet every hair on Bai Ningbing's skin stood on end at the sound, because she knew all too well what lay beneath that laughter.

"My dear junior sister," Bai Yujing spoke slowly, his voice still carrying that gentle, spring-breeze warmth, "why does your face look so pale?"