She had only been asleep for a moment when her consciousness was dragged into a crimson world.
Beneath her feet was a warm pool of blood. Overhead, dark clouds churned and lightning danced wildly.
For a Cultivator, this was no small matter. Dreams could sometimes be leaks of heavenly secrets, portents of future changes.
This was especially true for someone of her special bloodline. Her dreams were anything but ordinary.
Every time she entered a dream, it could be a warning or a clue from fate.
Upon waking, she immediately performed a divination with her fingers and discovered that the dream vaguely coincided with the trajectory of heavenly secrets.
In the dream, Ling Zhiwei's eyes were red. He recognized no one, friend or foe, as he carved a bloody path through the Immortal World, leaving a river of blood in his wake.
He wore blood-soaked Daoist robes, his steps staggering but relentless. He cut down anyone he saw, making no distinction between ally and enemy.
