They were simple words, but each one made Qingyi's chest tremble, his heart race, and his cultivation stir restlessly within him.
That… wasn't what he'd expected.
They seemed like the words of a god that, little by little, dissolved into the words of a man.
It wasn't bad, just…
He hadn't expected that.
Beside him, he heard Auranys sniffle softly, her eyes already filled with tears that streamed silently down her face.
Without hesitation, he pulled her against his chest in a firm embrace, feeling her body tremble slightly in his arms, his own heart weighed down.
Those were the words of the creator. Of the creator of cultivation, of the creator of the very language he spoke, of the stars that warmed his skin.
They were the words of an absolute being, but, deep down, they seemed more like the words of a father marked by pain.
For a moment, he closed the book, feeling the turmoil within his cultivation grow ever stronger.
