As the last wisp of spiritual power faded from his fingertips, Xuan Jin finally saw those eyes clearly.
Lin Xinyue’s hand was still buried in his chest, warm and carrying the cultivation he had just given her. Half an hour ago, she had been nestled in his arms, telling him the immortal sects would never accept them and that she wanted to cultivate the Great Dao with him.
“Why?” Xuan Jin coughed up a mouthful of blood, his vision beginning to blur.
Lin Xinyue pulled out her hand, a still-beating heart resting in her palm. The dark red heart of the Demon Venerable was streaked with golden patterns.
She smiled. For the first time, her peerlessly delicate face showed a cruelty almost childlike in its innocence. “Brother Xuan Jin, your heart has lived for three thousand years. Refining it will help me break through the shackles of the Heavenly Dao.”
Xuan Jin tried to speak, but only the sound of blood rising in his throat came out. He watched twelve elders of the immortal sects appear behind her, carrying soul-locking chains and bone-carving knives.
Lin Xinyue took a step back, as if afraid the blood would stain her white robes.
“Begin.”
When the bone-carving knife fell, Xuan Jin did not close his eyes. He wanted to remember every face, every sharp pain that cut into his bones. His three thousand years of cultivation poured out like a burst dam, greedily absorbed by the twelve formations. His consciousness began to scatter. The last thing he heard was Lin Xinyue’s gentle voice:
“The Demon Venerable Xuan Jin has been executed today. From this day on, the people of the world can live in peace.”
Darkness swallowed everything.
The realm has risen a bit too fast. It took you less than a year from the beginning of your cultivation to reach the peak.
The combat power is a bit too low