Zhou Zixi and his companions spent a year traveling to the Ice Wastes.

They traversed deep mountains and forests, crossed thousand-mile rivers, and endured frost and wind to reach the Ice Wastes, where they witnessed thick dark clouds ignited by fierce flames reflecting brilliant red hues.

In the distance, the snowy mountains were nearly set ablaze by the fire chased by the northern wind.

Cavalry in black-gold armor formed battle lines outside, while collapsing houses and watchtowers produced thunderous crashes that couldn’t drown out people’s terrified screams.

The star power in this realm had fallen into chaos, suppressing everyone’s circulation meridians, preventing escape. People could only run desperately when the fierce flames reached them.

A masked figure stood atop the watchtower, raising a hand with sleeves flying, pointing out incantations that destroyed the fleeing ghost-people’s life meridians with a single strike.

At the foot of the snowy mountain, Wu Liangli pulled Zhou Xiang back a step and said, “I think we’ve arrived at a bad time.”

Zhou Xiang, her eyes filled with disbelief, broke free and ran toward the burning watchtower, calling out for her mother as she ran.

Even though she had outwardly agreed with Zhou Zixi that the woman was a stranger, Zhou Xiang couldn’t accept it in her heart.

“Zhou Xiang, wait!” Qiu Lang tried to stop Zhou Xiang but was blasted away by the realm’s circulation power within the destruction range, flying far before crashing.

Wu Liangli went to rescue Qiu Lang, while Zhou Zixi went to grab Zhou Xiang. Both inevitably fell into the destruction range, fighting against the realm’s powerful circulation energy.

Zhou Zixi had experienced countless battles over these years, but no opponent had ever given him such overwhelming pressure.

The white-masked figure above the watchtower had no desire to fight at all—the fear rising from the depths of one’s heart would tell you that no matter what you did, you couldn’t win.

Just avoiding the destructive circulation energy took all his strength, leaving no opportunity for anything else, not even time to release spirit techniques.

Ahead, Zhou Xiang died and rose again several times, each time shattering into an unrecognizable bloody mess, too horrible to watch.

The wailing cries from within the city were unceasing. The great fire danced and roared with the night wind, and when the flying sparks landed on skin, they immediately raised blisters.

Zhou Zixi, holding onto the will to survive, circled to where the destruction’s influence was slightly less. His array-formation speed increased with each attempt. His shadow, distorted by the firelight as if melting, suddenly stretched far away, and flames diverted around the areas covered by darkness.

The shadow moved and traversed along the ground, accurately finding Zhou Xiang’s position and entangling her ankles, tripping her.

Zhou Xiang had been crying and shouting, but when she fell and looked up, her brows were slightly furrowed. The tear stains on her face hadn’t dried, but her expression had changed.

“Useless,” Zhou Xiang cursed under her breath, nimbly getting up from the ground. “Why look for that woman? Don’t you understand she sold you?”

Zhou Zixi, who had used the law array to possess the shadow and find her: “…”

A young man standing at his doorway, wrapped in a fur blanket and holding a cat: “…”

Zhou Xiang, outside the house, glanced at the young man holding the cat. He was about her age, still with a childish face. A section of his hair had been singed by the flames, and he smelled of burning. During their brief eye contact, neither seemed to know if the other was friend or foe, and the young man was wary.

Two circulation incantations shot toward them. Zhou Zixi appeared to block them, and the resulting windstorm made Zhou Xiang and the cat-holding youth Cheng Jingbai turn aside to avoid it.

“Hurry and go,” said Zhou Zixi.

The young man holding the cat was blown away by the star power pressure, falling to the ground. The two kittens in his arms fell to the ground, and Zhou Xiang bent down to pick one up before running.

Cheng Jingbai looked at the unfamiliar young man blocking his path. In that instant, Zhou Zixi seemed as tall as a snow mountain in his mind.

“Jingbai!” Someone called his name through the raging fire and smoke—it was his father’s anxious cry. Cheng Jingbai’s eyes brightened as he turned to look, only to see his father pierced through the heart by a circulation incantation, his life meridian broken, turning into a puddle of black flesh.

“Father…” Cheng Jingbai couldn’t believe his eyes.

The kitten running toward Cheng Jingbai was shredded by the destructive force, its blood splashing onto Cheng Jingbai’s hand.

Zhou Zixi frowned as he heard the young man’s heartbreaking cries. He could barely hold back the destructive power himself. His elongated shadow surrounded them, extinguishing the fierce flames and clearing a path.

When Cheng Jingbai tried to run toward his father, Zhou Zixi took him away with a shadow flash. Qiu Lang shouted from across the stream at the foot of the snow mountain: “Over here!”

Qiu Lang’s side had gathered many people who had escaped the burning town.

The cavalry seemed to notice the escape route of the ghost-people and discovered the people by the stream, spurring their horses forward. Qiu Lang rushed to save Zhou Zixi, seized a weapon from a cavalryman, and fought with bloodshot eyes.

Everything happened so quickly and urgently. The clashing of various spirit mechanisms dazzled the eye—a moment’s inattention meant death in the sea of fire.

The chaos at the foot of the snow mountain finally drew the attention of the supreme human standing on the watchtower. The white mask turned toward the two youths running through the sea of fire, slowly raising a hand with fingertips pointing at them.

Zhou Zixi sensed something, glanced at his shattered shadow from the corner of his eye, pupils contracting. He threw Cheng Jingbai forward, spun around, and looked back. His sleeve, ignited by falling star fire, burned away, revealing skin covered with black curse symbols.

Countless star lines flashed, intercepting the killing move pointed by the Pilgrim. The collision of star power made a shrieking sound. Zhou Zixi blocked with both hands, gritting his teeth, forced back step by step.

Even though he could resurrect, he didn’t want to die.

The Book Saint was surprised for the first time to see his incantation blocked by a boy who looked only thirteen or fourteen. Being able to resist without being affected by the heart meridian was already difficult enough, but to form an array in such a brief moment and block his killing move was even more astonishing.

The two sides faced each other across the sea of fire and with killing intent. The Book Saint pointed again, shattering Zhou Zixi’s Eight Meridians Array and forcing him back. As the star power was about to pierce through his chest, a celestial wall defense rose before the youth, providing him a chance to flash away and create distance.

Behind him, Wu Liangli gasped: “Hurry—hurry and go, this is beyond my usual capability!”

But this one celestial wall defense had nearly exhausted all of Wu Liangli’s star power. Zhou Xiang returned the kitten to Cheng Jingbai and turned to support Wu Liangli.

“What’s going on?” Qiu Lang pulled Zhou Zixi up from the ground and irritably asked the ghost people.

No one answered him. People stared blankly ahead, their expressions terrified, eyes filled with despair.

Qiu Lang sensed something and turned around, discovering that the white-robed Book Saint, who had been far away on the watchtower, now stood before him. The celestial wall defense that Wu Liangli had expended all her star power to create was shattered by a casual point from the Pilgrim.

The star power pressure suddenly descended, making Qiu Lang kneel to the ground without any strength to resist. He couldn’t even raise his head, feeling as if thousands of mountains pressed down on him, making even breathing extremely difficult.

While everyone knelt before the Book Saint, Zhou Zixi rose to his feet with a swaying body. Though shaken inwardly, his face remained cold and indifferent. Glancing at the kneeling Wu Liangli and others, he frowned.

The Book Saint stared at the standing youth and said, “Your shadow is quite special.”

His star power pressure was all being consumed by Zhou Zixi’s shadow, so the boy himself felt no pressure at all.

Zhou Zixi had heard of the Pilgrim Book Saint when he was being hunted by the Martial Monitoring Alliance. He was not only one of the six Pilgrims of the Ancient Continent but also the master of the Martial Monitoring Alliance.

The Pilgrims were considered mortal enemies of the ghost-people. In this world, apart from ghost-people themselves, only the Pilgrims could truly kill ghost-people.

All information and measures concerning ghost-people were directed by the Pilgrims.

Most ghost-people always prayed never to encounter a Pilgrim in their lifetime.

This was Zhou Zixi’s first face-to-face meeting with a Pilgrim. His fear vanished in an instant, leaving only an impression of overwhelming power. With Eight Meridians Full Realm strength, the Pilgrim could easily crush them underfoot. The feeling of being treated as an insect, having one’s life and death controlled by another, deeply displeased Zhou Zixi.

The Book Saint didn’t kill them, but imprisoned the ghost-people who had escaped to the foot of the snow mountain.

The cavalry garrisoned in the Ice Wastes, cleaning up the town consumed by the great fire.

The Book Saint’s purpose in coming to the Ice Wastes was for a resource called snow ore, which could forge divine weapons. Having ghost-people mine the snow ore was most suitable, as they were immortal and any accidents wouldn’t result in loss of manpower.

To humans, ghost-people were natural slaves.

After the intimidation of burning the town, the remaining ghost-people didn’t dare resist and honestly worked under the cavalry’s supervision.

The Book Saint found Zhou Zixi particularly interesting. While other ghost-people worked, he would call Zhou Zixi away and kill him countless times to test the function of Zhou Zixi’s shadow.

He stood by the stream, watching the youth run pathetically at the foot of the snow mountain. The golden light of the sun fell upon the youth, but it was cold.

“It seems not as interesting as I thought,” the Book Saint sighed, looking at the youth who had just revived again.

Zhou Zixi opened his eyes to look at him.

The Book Saint laughed softly: “When you want to kill someone, remember to hide your killing intent well, especially in your eyes.”

Zhou Zixi stumbled to his feet.

The Book Saint continued: “Recently, it seems no ghost-people interact with you. Don’t you want to know why?”

The youth pressed his eyebrows, somewhat irritably: “Wasn’t it your doing?”

“Do you think that being different together means they’ll necessarily huddle for warmth and trust each other?” the Book Saint said gently. “Jealousy and ignorance are common to both humans and the different ones. When controlled by these emotions, even father and son, relatives and friends, will turn against each other.”

The youth thought at the time that this person was like Qiu Lang, always liking to speak ambiguous words, disgusting.

The Book Saint watched the youth walk toward the dungeon, his voice carried by the northern wind to Zhou Zixi’s ears: “You want to find acceptance among these ghost-people, but alas.”

This was also Zhou Zixi’s first time seeing so many ghost-people.

The Ice Wastes could barely be considered the world of ghost-people because so many lived here. Everyone didn’t need to hide and conceal their identity carefully; they could live very relaxed and free.

This was why, even knowing Zhou Xiang had no family, Zhou Zixi was still willing to bring her back to the Ice Wastes.

He wanted to live more freely, to live in the ghost-people’s world without fearing exposure of his identity and subsequent hatred or abandonment by others. He wanted to be unconstrained and free.

Since kind people wouldn’t accept him, he would return to the world of ghost people.

There were many ghost people imprisoned in the dungeon, but Qiu Lang and the others weren’t there. Zhou Zixi didn’t know anyone there. He had a separate cell, imprisoned alone, while everyone else was confined opposite him.

Zhou Zixi’s cell had warm blankets, while the opposite cells had nothing, not even straw for bedding.

When other ghost-people were beaten and cursed by the overseers, Zhou Zixi rested nearby, seemingly at odds with the overseers. When it was his turn to work, overseers would even bring him water and food.

Even during the daily meal distribution, Zhou Zixi ate meat while others ate roots and gruel.

Countless stark contrasts distinguished Zhou Zixi from the ghost-people, as if loudly reminding them: you are not like them.

The ghost-people living in the Ice Wastes couldn’t resist but deeply hated the Book Saint and others. The Book Saint had killed their parents, children, companions, destroyed their homes, enslaved them, and deprived them of human rights.

Their hatred grew daily with the beatings and curses from the overseers.

The overseers’ differential treatment of Zhou Zixi invisibly earned him the hatred of the ghost-people.

Among these many contrasts, the ghost-people gradually came to view Zhou Zixi as one of the Book Saint’s people. The Book Saint was too distant and powerful, so this hatred gradually spread to Zhou Zixi, who was right before their eyes.

The Book Saint occasionally appeared in the dungeon and took Zhou Zixi away in front of the ghost-people, making their looks toward Zhou Zixi increasingly dangerous.

“What do you think they’ll do to you?” the Book Saint asked Zhou Zixi with a smile.

Zhou Zixi lowered his head in silence.

The Book Saint said, “Have you noticed how they look at you? That’s not how they look at their kind.”

Gazes full of vigilance and suspicion—the ghost-people’s dissatisfaction with Zhou Zixi was about to overflow.

The Book Saint looked at Zhou Zixi: “Next, just a trivial lie will ignite everyone’s anger. What will they do to you then?”

The lie the Book Saint spoke of was to have the overseers tell Zhou Zixi that it was he who had guided the Book Saint to find the Ice Wastes.

The ghost-people were shocked and furious at this, looking at Zhou Zixi in the opposite cell with increasingly murderous gazes.

Zhou Zixi lowered his head, his palms sweating. He didn’t know what he was gambling on but hoped he wouldn’t lose.

That day, the overseers deliberately gave the ghost-people a chance to approach Zhou Zixi, standing far away and pretending not to hear anything, turning their backs to the ghost-people.

Zhou Zixi, digging in silence, was suddenly pushed and staggered backward.

“Was it you?” the ghost-people questioned. “Was it you who guided the Pilgrim here?”

Zhou Zixi was stunned, struggling to comprehend this bizarre and absurd conjecture.

The ghost-people looked at him with hatred, anger, and killing intent, grabbing his collar and saying hatefully: “If you hadn’t brought the Pilgrim here, my mother and sister wouldn’t have died. You caused their deaths!”

A fist charged with star power struck Zhou Zixi’s face. He was pinned against the ice wall, his lip split and bleeding, coughing as he said: “No… it wasn’t me…”

“Then why does the Pilgrim always take you out?”

“Why don’t they make you work?”

“Why do you get to eat meat?”

“The overseers don’t treat you like a slave at all!”

“You’re clearly with them; you only came here to monitor us!”

Countless accusations surged toward Zhou Zixi. Faces twisted with anger and collapse pressed close to him. Months of accumulated hatred finally found an outlet as people hysterically vented their hatred on the person they believed deserved it.

Zhou Zixi tried to explain, curling up and coughing blood, saying brokenly: “It wasn’t me.”

“It wasn’t me!”

His voice grew louder each time, but no one cared or wanted to hear his explanation.

The Book Saint had taught Zhou Zixi that humans were dangerous, and ghost-people were dangerous too. There was no existence in this world that could accept him.

Under the control of jealousy and ignorance, people would do many unexpected things.

Zhou Zixi’s near-death state triggered his life meridian response. A ghost-person who saw his life meridian, driven by anger and hatred, grabbed it and said: “Someone like you doesn’t deserve to live. As a ghost-person, you betrayed us and brought the Pilgrim, causing so many deaths. You should be the one to die! Die!”

The Book Saint hadn’t completely suppressed all the ghost-people’s star meridian power, because with him presiding, he didn’t fear ghost-people using star meridian power to resist. Thus, he allowed these ghost-people to kill Zhou Zixi.

The person cursing and shouting for Zhou Zixi to die, while Zhou Zixi offered no resistance, destroyed his life meridian with a circulation incantation.

Zhou Zixi slightly opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but couldn’t. He thought, Forget it, death is fine too.

The overseers watching from above saw the light in the youth’s eyes extinguish, turning gray. The hand protecting his head fell lifelessly. As time passed, he turned into a puddle of black rot. Blood seeped into the ice layer below, his skeleton shattered, leaving only a black skull.

Gradually, the black skull crumbled too.

The overseers found it curious and reported to the Book Saint.

Hearing that the young ghost-person had died, the Book Saint found it entirely within expectations. Upon hearing that even the skull had crumbled, he smiled and said, Perhaps it was because the ghost-person died with such grievance.

The bright red blood seeped into the ground, flowing with the underground river away from the dungeon. After drifting for an unknown time to the outside world, spring arrived, and the frozen world awakened. All things revived, the ice river shattered, and accumulated snow and ice melted into flowing water, forming a waterfall.

The snow mountain still stood in its place, gazing into the distance.

In some unknown distant place, blue-green grass covered the ground, and the earth was filled with small blue and white flowers.

A drop of blood with a fluorescent glow, drifting here with the water flow, grew bones and flesh in the clear river.

Zhou Zixi emerged from the water, lying down on the riverbank’s green grass, his dark eyes reflecting the gloomy sky.

His mind was empty, thinking of nothing, just staring blankly.

As the sky gradually darkened, Zhou Zixi, gazing at the silver river in the sky, sat up and, without hesitation, severed his life meridian, dying.

Dying again and again, then living again and again.

Zhou Zixi stood up and softly asked his reflection in the water: “Why won’t you let me die?”

The water reflected his image and also showed his currently ferocious face.

If Zhou Zixi had died that year at fifteen, none of the later events would have happened.