Lu Jiangxian withdrew his gaze from the throngs at the foot of the mountain, retracting his divine sense into the mirror.0

He descended beside a stone table that seemed to be made of white jade, his robe swaying in the gentle breeze. With a sigh, he lowered himself onto the seat. Sadness enveloped his expression as he murmured to himself.0

"Four pairs of fathers and sons, three families plotting against each other, generations enmeshed... Such is the world; one fears the other, inciting harm until vendettas erupt, all culminating in mourning and funeral rites...0

"Immortals are battling for survival as the upper sect mercilessly slaughter, refine human pills, perform sacrificial rituals, and pit families and clans against each other, while the people resign to their fates like fish on the chopping block…"1

Doubt clouded Lu Jiangxian's heart as he murmured...0