Gu Wuzhuo's death did not leave Sheng Ning and the others feeling down for long.
Just as the three were immersed in their different emotions and sorrows, the sound of patting rang out behind them again.
Following the sound of flapping, the three saw a number of moths, or rather, cultivators looking at them with pleading eyes.
As for those cocoons that haven't yet 'hatched'...
Sheng Ning recalled the scene she had witnessed upon entering the ice cellar: something wriggling inside the translucent cocoon...
Those were cultivators who had not yet 'hatched'.
Lu Jingshen and Fang Chongshang did not know how these human cultivators transformed into moths.
Sheng Ning, who came from the future, was terrified by the word 'genetic transformation' in her mind.
She turned her head to look at the cultivators isolated by the ice, her throat tightening, "They..."
Ulala, who led them to this pile of rocks, must have long forgotten how she turned into a moth.
And in front of them, these newly hatched moths will become like Ulalana.
As time passed, he gradually forgot his memories of being a human cultivator.
They will stay here, waiting for the next batch of cultivators to arrive, then capture the new cultivators here and transform them into moths just like themselves.
Just thinking about this made Sheng Ning's breathing become heavier.
"They wouldn't want to end up looking like this, neither human nor ghost, would they?"
Fang Chong slowly stood up from the ice.
His eyes were lowered, and the dragon-beard hair at his temples hung low over his shoulders. His face was gloomy, making it impossible to see what he was thinking.
"Those who can enter the Northern Secret Realm are either powerful figures who already exist in the Northern Region, or disciples from various sects who have come from afar across the continent."
"They all came here with the idea of gaining experience and finding rare and precious treasures, but now they've turned out like this."
"Fellow Daoist Sheng, kill them..."
Everyone who becomes a strong person, or enters a sect and becomes a personal disciple, is proud.
They fought their way through every corner of the world.
They came to the secret realm for even greater ambitions.
Now, having endured countless hardships, they have transformed into demonic beasts. Even if they don't act, they will be killed when they go out and wreak havoc on others.
Fang Chong's voice was hoarse, and Gu Wuzhuo's death cast a dark cloud over his head.
Sheng Ning frowned and glanced at him. When she turned her head back, she heard her say in a low voice, "This is a matter that they need to decide for themselves."
She hadn't forgotten the butterflies and moths that swarmed around them when they first arrived at this paradise.
And outside the pile of rocks, there were countless butterflies, burned to ashes by the Netherworld Fire.
The thought that a large portion of these butterflies and moths might be demonic beasts transformed from cultivators caused Sheng Ning's eyes to darken.
Together with Lu Jingshen, they broke through a layer of ice.
The soft, limp moths, fresh from their cocoons, eagerly rolled to their feet.
"Please, kill me too. I am Huiqing from the Lotus Sect."
"I am Huiwu of the Lotus Sect."
"I am Lu Xinxue from the Flying Flower Sect."
"I am......"
"Please, kill us."
The ice layer kept breaking apart, and cultivators who had just emerged from their cocoons kept rolling to the ground.
They all looked at Sheng Ning and the other two with pleading eyes, their cloudy eyes filled with pain.
These people were all once the pride of heaven, cultivators on whom their parents, masters, and sects placed high hopes.
Now that things have come to this, they've become like this, and they can never go back to what they were before.
Cultivators all have their pride; rather than living like moths, they would rather die by Sheng Ning's sword.
In this way, they will no longer harm their compatriots who mistakenly wander into this place in the future.
Even Sheng Ning was so shocked by what she saw that she didn't dare to breathe too heavily.
She looked at the moth that had squeezed to her feet. The moth that had previously looked at Ulala with disgust was now not even making a move to back away.
His lips were pressed tightly together into a straight line.
This place not only has disciples from the four major sects, but also disciples from other smaller sects, as well as other cultivators from the Northern Region...
Now that they were all begging for death, her throat bobbed, and she didn't even dare to summon the Eight-Star Kunwu Sword.
It seemed to sense the fluctuations in its master's heart.
The eight-star Kunwu sword, which had been hidden in the divine consciousness space, trembled and hummed.
Sheng Ning stood there watching this scene until her ankle was grabbed, and she looked down at the moth in front of her.
"Fellow Daoist, please, kill us."
"Otherwise, we will lose our minds in the future. We don't want to...we don't want to hurt our comrades."
Seeing the pained expression on the other person's face, and seeing the moths nearby emitting sharp hissing sounds, just like the already dead Gu Wuzhuo, for some unknown reason.
Sheng Ning closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Do you have any last words?"
Seeing that Sheng Ning agreed to take action, the moth that had been thrashing about at her feet revealed a hint of nostalgia on its pained and ferocious face.
“My master always loves to drink, and he’s never home when he’s drunk. Fellow Daoist, please pass on a message to him and tell him to drink less, because I will no longer be able to go down the mountain to bring him home.”
"And mine! I don't know if my spirit plant nursery has been successfully planted, but unfortunately I can't see it anymore. Fellow Daoist, could you help me go back and check?"
"My master's wife always bullies him. I really want to see them argue again..."
......
A soft 'click' sound was drowned out by the voices.
Sheng Ning raised her hand and forcefully wiped away the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, then gave the cultivator in front of her a smile that was even more painful than crying.
"Don't worry, I will definitely convey your message."
Upon hearing her assurance, the cultivator smiled again. "Really? Then I'll have to trouble you, fellow Daoist."
"Unfortunately, I don't have any spirit stones to offer as payment, fellow Daoist..."
"I don't want spirit stones, I'm sorry..."
Sheng Ning always knew that life was fragile.
This perception changed drastically after she came to the world of cultivation.
The cultivators here live for anywhere from two or three hundred years to tens of millions of years.
However, most of the cultivators lying in front of her were just disciples of sects, not even sect elders.
A five-hundred-year-old is not much different from a 25-year-old in mainland China.
So many precious lives.
So much hope for the future of this world.
Even if she possessed the most powerful weapons, she still couldn't save them.
"Why apologize?" The monk curled his lips into a smile.
He lifted one foot, as if to wipe away the tears from the corner of her eyes.
Upon seeing his own ugly feet, he silently withdrew them, thinking, "If it weren't for your arrival, we probably wouldn't even have been able to leave our last words."
"It's our incompetence that we couldn't even protect ourselves; it has nothing to do with you."
"Also, thank you, Fellow Daoist Sheng."
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