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The setting sun was blood-red.
The Soul-Breaking Valley at the border between the immortal cultivation world and the demon realm was now shrouded in endless war aura. Under the dark twilight, the two armies faced each other. The dark black demonic qi and the golden-white immortal sect spiritual power collided violently in the void, emitting thunder-like roars.
On the battlefield, broken soldiers and blades littered the scorched earth. The wind carried a pungent smell of blood mixed with turbulent spiritual energy fluctuations.
Yi Qing stood atop a steep cliff.
His cyan robes fluttered loudly in the chaotic gale. Unlike the ordinary immortal disciples who were bloodied and disheveled from fighting, he still carried an otherworldly coldness.
Since parting in the Yunmiao Secret Realm half a year ago, he had returned to the immortal sect. To conceal the absurdity and depravity that occurred under the ancient divine tree that night, he cultivated even more frantically, even entering closed-door seclusion, attempting to freeze the trace of heat belonging to the demon young master within him using frost sword qi.
However, some things, once imprinted deep in the soul, can never be erased.
At this moment, Yi Qing's brows lacked their former brightness, replaced by near self-tormenting restraint. His usually indifferent eyes now reflected the surging black mist on the battlefield below.
"Senior Brother! The demon army's offensive is too fierce; the front line can't hold!" A bloodied immortal disciple scrambled up the cliff, his voice nearly breaking into sobs.
Yi Qing withdrew his gaze, his expression unchanged. He merely slowly tightened his grip on the Frost Sword.