Journey to the End of the Night

Chapter 1076 - Capítulo 1076: 756: No More Tears_3

Capítulo 1076: Chapter 756: No More Tears_3A young child, no matter how precocious or steady, Yu Rong should not imagine how he would endure those three months in that ghostly place where even the disciples couldn’t bear.

After coming out, how could he still resemble a person.

As one of the Tianxi Thirteen Swords, even if Yu Rong is formidable, she cannot openly defy the Sect Master’s orders.

She just never expected that she ultimately underestimated the child’s strong will.

In such a desperate situation, he was still able to find a sliver of opportunity to turn the tide.

On the night of the tenth day, he successfully emerged from the Dead Sword Tomb.

It was the Sect Master himself who descended into the tomb and carried him out.

That night, the winter snow was intense, beneath the Dead Sword Tomb, the thousands of scorpions rattled, dense and chaotic, furious and ferocious, not at all like their usual retractable stinging harmless guise.

Bai Rui’s corpse lay within that sea of scorpions, holding a bottle of Thousand Poison Elixir that had been opened.

Ironically, it was Bai Rui’s son, Bai Zhu, who hurriedly came to invite the Sect Master into the tomb to rescue him tonight, rather than anyone else.

Bai Rui, knowing that his Young Master was imprisoned under the Dead Sword Tomb to suffer the scorpion torture meant for him, mysteriously appeared here, in this forbidden place no ordinary person dared approach.

Still holding in his hand the Thousand Poison Elixir that could drive the Dead Spirit Scorpions madly berserk.

Yet, the Dead Spirit Scorpions, which should merely threaten with rattling tails, had who knows how many stings broken within the Young Master’s body.

And the hundred scorpions in the tomb inexplicably became thousands.herworld, fortunately protected by Lady Ying Ji with her life.

However, from then on, Central Netherworld and Tianxi, Taixuan, Cangwu completely split with bad blood.

Lady Ying Ji even proclaimed that if any disciple of the Three Heavenly Dao Sects set foot in the You Dynasty, they would be killed without question!

If any disciple of the Three Sects, after death, when their Heroic Spirits enter the You Dynasty, they would be cast into the Netherworld Hell, never to be reborn!

Once this rule was established, the name of the You Dynasty Imperial City instantly carried a deadly aura.

It was also at that time that the Sect Master disowned the Young Master entirely.

Since then, the Young Master changed his surname to Ying, became the Crown Prince of the Central Netherworld, the Ghost Sword Young Master.

Yu Rong once thought, perhaps for Lady Ying Ji and the Young Master, this was the best outcome.

At least, as she thought, the Young Master truly shone brightly upon returning to the Central Netherworld, becoming one of the Three Sons of the Heavenly Dao, renowned alongside Su Jing and Yin Baishuang.

More importantly, he had a mother who cared for him.

With the passage of time, Yu Rong also encountered the Young Master several times in the Mortal World, seeing his appearance as he grew, very much the same as when he was young.

Only, for some reason, in his gestures and actions, there was a subtle difference from the Young Master she had hoped for in her heart.

Two hundred years later, today, when Yu Rong heard news of Ying Xiu ascending the mountain to seek the Sword Pavilion, she vaguely recalled the past.

Standing on Yu Han Bridge, she found it difficult to connect the spirited Crown Prince of Central Netherworld today with the little Young Master who once huddled under the bridge, crying and covered in blood.

Unconsciously, the cold clouds thinned, and a sliver of crescent moon appeared.

Looking at the little snowman on the bridge rail, Yu Rong faintly smiled, not knowing why, her mood subtly changed, becoming strangely different.

She suddenly wanted to glimpse the scenery under the bridge.

Supporting the little snowman, Yu Rong lightly flipped, her sword-like garment swirled like black lotus blooming in the night, her white boots brushing over the water.

She bent with her sword, smiling down at the seemingly empty bridge bottom, as if teasing a child wronged in the past, her tone playful:

“Little guy, don’t cry, see, I made you a little snowman.”

Under the dim light of the bridge, a pale, slender hand reached through the darkness, the fingers carrying an inhuman warmth, a lank wrist exposed beneath a blue sleeve.

That was the hand of a youth.

The cold hand accepted the cold snowman.

In the dim shadow, a warm chuckle arose.

He said: “Alright, I won’t cry.”

Yu Rong stood petrified, dumbfounded.