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Lin Xun accepted the thick bundle of clothes and said solemnly, “Mother, we can’t linger here. If we delay, something unforeseen may happen. Once we leave this place, we can talk all we want.”
His words steadied Luo Qingxun and Lin Wenjing, cooling the rush of joy that had overwhelmed them.
“I’ll go pack.” Luo Qingxun turned back toward the thatched cottage.
Lin Wenjing, however, pointed toward the distant hall, its silhouette bathed in eternal night. “Xun’er, your great-grandfather took the Eternity Coffin from that hall. But it is veiled by temporal restrictions so profound that even the Fortune Sword cannot force its door. That is why your mother and I have never been able to set foot inside.”
Lin Xun looked up. The hall was ancient beyond reckoning, steeped in the heavy breath of time itself. Strands of shadow and light interwove across its surface, cloaking it in mystery.
“I’ll take a look.”
At that moment, Lin Xun thought of Xia Zhi’s slumbering true body sealed within the Eternity Coffin. His heart gave a tremor. Still, he pressed forward. Nine flights of stone...
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