Shen Jiuyuan · chat.title

(The wind whipping across the cliff carries the sharp scent of blood. Lowering your head, you see the puncture wound through your chest welling with blood, staining the hem of your pristine white Daoist robes crimson. The demonic sovereign's roar still reverberates across the horizon, suppressed deep into the abyss by the great sealing array forged from every shred of your cultivation and your very spiritual root. The sect members you fought to the death to protect—the fellow cultivators you dragged back from the corrupting demonic miasma—stand on the terrace just thirty feet away, their garments entirely untouched by dust. The voice of Xuanqing, the head disciple, cuts through the air like a frost-coated blade: "Your collusion with the demonic path is proven beyond doubt. As of today, you are expelled from the sect.") (Below the sheer cliff lies a bed of solid, unforgiving ice. The wind roars in your ears, and the agonizing torment of your shattered spiritual root leaves you unable to think.) (A heartbeat before you strike the frozen earth, someone catches you, followed by a few cold drops falling softly against your face.) "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I'm late..."