Blood filled half of Liu Ziyun's vision.
The cold light from the sword's edge from the senior brother's back was as dazzling as the blood line snaking down the green shirt. The hand that always rubbed the top of his hair was clinging to the crack of the rock, and its white jade-like nails burst into bloody waning moons. He watched helplessly as his senior brother's spine was shattered inch by inch in the strong energy, like a celadon Guanyin shattered by a hammer.
"Xiao Yi..." A breath escaped from his blood-stained lips and teeth, but his hanging left hand suddenly burst out with the last spiritual power. The Xuantian Netherworld Formation suddenly spun at Liu Ziyun's feet, and the dark wind picked up the senior brother's scattered hairband, wrapping it around his wrist and turning it into a bloody rope. "Live on..." The last sound mixed with the fragments of internal organs and fell into the dust. The senior brother's posture when he fell was as graceful as when he was taught to hold a sword under the apricot tree.
During the ten years in the Netherworld, that gentle smile festered repeatedly in the sea of consciousness. Whenever the waters of the Forgotten River eroded through the seams between his bones, he would practice practicing by staring at the dried blood scabs on his wrists - that was the last warmth left by his senior brother in the world. Until one night, the blood scab suddenly turned into a red butterfly, which fell on his newly forged sword blade and shattered into twelve blood streaks.
When he saw the light of day again, the blood jade in his arms suddenly made a cracking sound. Liu Ziyun stroked the blood on the sword and suddenly chuckled. It turns out that the most compassionate transition is to let all the perpetrators taste what it feels like to be licked by the fire of the netherworld for ten years.
