Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Sorrow the Weak Must Bear

Fan Wuwei truly believed he was about to die.

He had been the top figure of the Holy Realm for five hundred thousand years, yet never imagined that today he would be so easily pinned down without even glimpsing his assailant’s face.

“Could this woman be from the Sacred Lands?”

Fan Wuwei’s face turned somewhat ashen.

But when he turned toward Jun Yang, he saw that Jun Yang seemed to have already fainted—or perhaps, Fan Wuwei wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing.

“Hey! Jun Yang!”

Fan Wuwei called out twice, but Jun Yang didn’t respond.

In the end, Fan Wuwei himself collapsed as well.

At the last possible moment, a little girl suddenly appeared before them.

She seemed to block the attack for them.

Fan Wuwei finally caught his breath, the oppressive feeling on his heart vanishing.

“Little one, thank you. These old bones of mine almost met their end here.”

After giving his thanks, Fan Wuwei hurried to Jun Yang’s side.

“Hey, Jun Yang, are you alright?”

Jun Yang was half-awakened by Fan Wuwei’s slaps and, upon coming to, immediately complained, “You old geezer, even if I wasn’t dead, you were about to slap me to death.”

“You really don’t know how to appreciate kindness,” Fan Wuwei retorted, shoving Jun Yang aside.

Jun Yang coughed twice, then lifted his head, “Little Ancestor…”

“What did you just call her?” Fan Wuwei looked between the two in surprise.

You Xiyue furrowed her brows, glanced at Jun Yang, and spoke in a stern tone, “Don’t you know how to use the jade token I gave you?”

Jun Yang had wanted to crack a joke to ease the tension, but when he met You Xiyue’s gaze, he shrank back.

You Xiyue was truly angry.

In all the time Jun Yang had known her, he’d never seen this look in her eyes.

Her gaze was icy, her entire being emanating an aura that brooked no affront.

“I was wrong.”

Jun Yang’s tone softened, a servile smile on his face. “Her attack came too suddenly, I didn’t have time to…”

Fan Wuwei looked at Jun Yang, full of confusion—who was this fawning old man?

You Xiyue turned away, looking forward, and coldly threw out, “I’ll deal with you later.”

With that, she vanished on the spot.

Jun Yang took out his Cosmos Pouch, swallowed two Dreamshade Yin-Yang Pills, and soon his color returned.

He tossed one to Fan Wuwei as well. “Eat it.”

Fan Wuwei took it, looked down at the pill, and was stunned.

He counted the pill lines several times.

“There are eight, right? Eight pill lines?”

Jun Yang only stared in the direction You Xiyue had disappeared, genuinely worried this time—because that woman was definitely from the Sacred Lands.

And from the status of her family there, her position was surely not low.

The power of her bloodline was so overwhelming that their very lives hung by a thread in just a few breaths.

Seeing Jun Yang ignoring him, Fan Wuwei counted the lines three more times, then found a small bottle from his pouch and stored the pill away, unwilling to consume it.

When You Xiyue arrived at Snowcang Mountain, she had already pinpointed the woman’s location.

That woman hadn’t expected that someone in the Holy Realm could withstand her bloodline’s force unscathed.

In a cave halfway up Snowcang Mountain was where the woman hid.

You Xiyue raised her Moonlit Sword, pressed forward with a step, and lunged inside.

The sword’s tip aimed straight at the woman’s throat.

The woman lashed out with a golden whip, curling it around the Moonlit Sword.

Her brows furrowed, almond eyes glaring at You Xiyue.

“Little girl, do you know who I am?”

“Heh, I don’t, and I have no interest in knowing,” You Xiyue replied, yanking the Moonlit Sword back hard.

The golden whip stretched taut, as if about to snap at any moment.

“Do you know the Snow Domain of the Sacred Lands?”

You Xiyue raised her eyes, which held not a trace of warmth.

“What does that have to do with me?”

She pulled again, the middle of the golden whip growing ever thinner.

“I am the Saintess of the Snow Domain!” the woman cried in panic. At first, she’d thought You Xiyue’s bloodline and cultivation were only on par with her own.

But as You Xiyue’s power surged, she suddenly realized she’d been mistaken.

She thought her title as the Saintess of the Snow Domain would intimidate You Xiyue.

After all, the four great domains of the Sacred Lands—Snow, Thunder, Wind, and Light—held the highest status.

Those born in these domains possessed the most exalted bloodlines in all the Sacred Lands.

And the Saintesses of these domains were second in rank only to the Lords themselves.

Even the heads of other families in the Sacred Lands would have to show respect to the Saintesses of the Four Domains.

But You Xiyue was unmoved, her gaze as cold and unfeeling as ever.

“You… do you not know the Sacred Lands?”

But as soon as she asked, she refuted herself inwardly—if You Xiyue weren’t of the Sacred Lands, how could she endure the power of her bloodline?

To rely solely on the bloodline of the Holy Realm? Impossible.

Growing impatient, You Xiyue gripped the Moonlit Sword tighter and pulled once more.

The golden whip snapped instantly, and the woman was sent flying backward.

She staggered several steps before regaining her footing.

She stared dumbfounded at the broken whip in her hands, her heart in turmoil.

This whip was forged from the bone of a golden dragon, a corpse impervious to all tempering and impossible to destroy.

“Just what are you?!”

“What am I?”

You Xiyue stepped closer, drawing nearer to the woman.

Her eyes instantly turned blood-red as the power of her bloodline erupted.

The woman’s pupils dilated as she clutched her throat and crumpled to the ground.

“I’m the one who’s come to settle the score.”

You Xiyue closed in, step by step.

As she approached, the woman’s breathing grew even more labored.

You Xiyue knelt beside her.

“Why have you come to the Holy Realm?”

The woman clamped her mouth shut, refusing to speak.

You Xiyue asked again, “Did you kill the He family who lived here?”

“They… deserved the fate of the weak.”

“Oh?” You Xiyue’s brow arched.

“Ahhh!” The woman felt as though her very flesh was being crushed, “Stop! Spare me! I’ll tell you why I came to the Holy Realm! I’ll tell you!”

She cowered, begging for mercy.

You Xiyue slowly stood, turned her back to the woman, and let out a soft laugh. “Unfortunately, I no longer care to know.”

She walked toward the mouth of the cave.

But rather than feeling any relief as You Xiyue left, the woman found the pain only intensifying.

Clutching her chest, blood seeped from the corners of her mouth.

At the cave’s entrance, You Xiyue paused and looked back at the woman.

“The fate of the weak, is it? Since you harmed my people, you shall bear it.”

Recalling Jun Yang’s earlier state, You Xiyue grew colder inside. Had she not sensed something was amiss and rushed back, that old man would likely have already entered the cycle of reincarnation.

The more she thought, the angrier she became. The blood-red in her eyes gradually faded, returning to normal.

But in the cave, the woman ceased her struggles, her body stiffening as life left her.

A tiny nascent soul flew from her dantian, fleeing in panic into the distance.

You Xiyue glanced in its direction, then turned away and returned to Jun Yang’s side.