501: Chapter 501 Poppies Bloom, Murder Is Imminent!

While Xie Jinghong was setting off a price storm because of the phrase "nickname"...

West Qingyou Continent, Xuantian Immortal Sect.

Inner Sect, Hundred Flowers Peak.

This spiritual land, known as the most beautiful Immortal peak of the Xuantian Immortal Sect where flowers bloomed year-round and Immortal butterflies danced, now resembled a ghost realm.

The flowers covering the mountain were all dying.

Not withering, but rotting.

One by one, the originally multicolored petals turned an eerie pitch black, as if soaked from the roots by some invisible filth.

They fell silently.

One petal, two, a thousand, ten thousand... spreading a thick layer.

From a distance, the entire Hundred Flowers Peak looked as if someone had splashed ink all over the ground.

What permeated the air was no longer the fragrance of a hundred flowers.

Instead, it was a decaying, deathly aura that made one want to retch after just one breath.

It was as if something was silently rotting deep within this Immortal peak.

...

Main Hall of Hundred Flowers Peak.

In the center of the empty hall, a woman wearing a plain white dress sat alone.

Her face was gentle, her features as beautiful as a painting.

When she smiled, two sweet dimples would appear on her cheeks, enough to make any man's heart flutter.

Her name was Lin Wan.

The master of Hundred Flowers Peak.

In the Inner Sect of the Xuantian Immortal Sect, she was an existence revered and admired by countless Disciples as the "Fairy of Hundred Flowers."

But now, those eyes that used to be as tender as water were empty.

Like two ancient wells that had been dry for a thousand years.

Not even a sliver of light could be reflected in them.

On the warm jade table before her, two piles of things were placed side by side.

The pile on the left was black dust.

Wisps of black smoke were still rising from it.

The smoke did not dissipate, coiling on the tabletop like tiny snakes, filled with resentment and grievance.

That was her son's soul tablet.

Lin Yu.

Her only son, whom she valued more than her own life.

The pile on the right was eerily clean.

The soul tablet had shattered into countless tiny fragments, each one crystal clear.

No aura clung to them.

No resentment, no traces of struggle.

Even the lingering threads of Karma had been wiped completely clean.

It was as if the owner of the soul tablet hadn't just died.

But had been completely... erased from this world.

That was the soul tablet of her only brother, Lin Batian.

Two soul tablets.

Two completely different ways of shattering.

One died in a tragic slaughter.

The other died from some kind of... annihilation by a higher-level power that she couldn't comprehend at all.

Lin Wan just sat there.

Looking at them.

She had been looking for seven days and seven nights.

No eating.

No drinking.

No sleeping.

No resting.

Like an exquisite porcelain doll placed in the middle of the empty hall and then forgotten.

Seven days.

During these seven days, three batches of spiritual flowers and Immortal Plants on Hundred Flowers Peak had already died.

Every batch consisted of treasures meticulously cultivated for three thousand years.

Every batch turned to ash simultaneously at a certain moment when her emotions fluctuated.

It wasn't that she hadn't thought about investigating the truth.

She had.

She thought about it on the first day.

But the answer was even more despairing than the pain of losing her son.

All the spatial channels from the Xuantian Immortal Sect leading to the Lower Realm had been sealed shut.

Not just "closed."

They were forcibly welded shut by a terrifying power of unknown origin.

A strange red barrier shrouded the channel entrances, emitting an aura that made even Immortals feel trepidation.

Sect Master Sect Master Xiao Qianjue had personally intervened.

The full-strength strike of a Spirit Immortal Realm powerhouse.

He couldn't even leave a scratch on the surface of that barrier.

Because of this, the entire Xuantian Immortal Sect was in an uproar.

Those channels were not just paths to the Lower Realm.

They were the core source of raw Materials for the Sect to refine the "myriad spirits blood pill."

Once the channels were cut, the supply of Materials was completely severed.

The Elders were as anxious as ants on a hot pan; panic spread through the Inner and Outer Sects as everyone tried to find a way to solve this major trouble that could shake the Sect's Foundation.

As for the death of an Inner Sect Disciple's son and brother?

It didn't even make the list.

Lin Wan submitted three investigation requests.

All three were rejected.

The reason was always the same: "In this time of Sect crisis, all private matters are temporarily suspended."

The wording was very official, the tone very cold.

The meaning was clear—don't cause trouble.

With nowhere to turn for help, she could only sit withered and alone on Hundred Flowers Peak.

Allowing that bone-eroding hatred and despair to seep into her internal organs bit by bit, like venom.

Seeping into her bones.

Seeping into her Soul.

She felt herself rotting.

Rotting from the inside out into a puddle of something she didn't even recognize.

...

Suddenly.

She moved.

That fair and slender hand slowly rose.

Her fingertips gently pinched a bit of the black powder that Lin Yu's soul tablet had turned into.

The movement was extremely light, extremely gentle.

She pressed the powder against her cheek, as if stroking the forehead of a sleeping infant.

"Yu'er..."

Her voice was so quiet it was almost nonexistent, like a murmur drifting from another world.

"Does it hurt?"

The words fell silently, but in the next instant—

"Swish—!"

Within the entire hall, all the remaining flowers and plants exploded simultaneously at this moment.

Not withering.

Not wilting.

They directly turned into black ash.

Flying all over the sky.

Like a silent, grand—black flower funeral.

For her son.

And for her last remaining trace of tenderness.

...

Just as she was about to be completely swallowed by this endless darkness.

From outside the hall came a series of footsteps so hurried they were distorted.

Accompanied by a heart-wrenching scream that lacked any shred of dignity.

"Junior Sister Lin! Junior Sister Lin, are you there?!"

"Help—me—!"

In Lin Wan's eyes, which were like dry wells.

Finally, a flicker of light appeared.

But that light didn't look like hope; it was more like the first flicker of ghost fire just ignited in the depths of purgatory.