Bai Xiaoqi, a handyman of the Cangwu Sect, has a ninth-grade spiritual root. He has not touched the first level of Qi refining in seven years, and is recognized by the entire sect as a waste.
Something happened in the sect's dry well. The first three batches of outer sect disciples never returned, and it was the turn of the handymen to die. Others were so frightened that their legs weakened, so he jumped down to the bottom of the well, picked up a tablet, and burned a dark gold scorch mark on his palm.
From then on, his eyes could see things that others could not.
The gray-robed skeleton in the sarcophagus at the bottom of the well opened his eyes and called him "Ninth Era". The memory of the Burning Palace burning exploded repeatedly in my mind. There are more than two hundred wooden strips with names engraved on the wall, and a cross is drawn on the end of each strip - Area C is not a residence, but a prison.
Zhao Yuanlang, the third person in the outer sect, grabbed his things, and his punch burned the opponent's palm. The spiritual energy in the middle stage of foundation building was like paper in front of the dark gold lines.
Someone told him: There is a person sleeping inside you. That man once fought in a thousand armies in white clothes with a sword, but was stabbed in the back by his most trusted brother. That brother has changed his face several times, lived for a long, long time, and now sits deep in the Cangwu Sect.
Someone also told him: In the past nine epochs, all the monks have worked hard to cultivate, ascend, and attain enlightenment, but they are all decoys. When heaven has fattened it, it will be harvested. A generation of genius, a crop of nourishment.
Bai Xiaoqi smiled after hearing this.
"If the sky cannot be filled in nine epochs, I will tear it down."
What he didn't know was that the scorch mark on his palm was just the first crack.
