"Speak!"
The man ground out the single word through clenched teeth, his voice steeped in boundless hatred.
"Xie Luohe was only taken by the Darkness; she is not dead. However, to trade her out of the Darkness is a feat harder than ascending to the heavens. Only at the centennial convergence, when the Darkness and the Common World are at their closest, can you use the Painting Skill of an Innate Mystic. You must paint your longing, paint your days and nights with her, paint *her*... When that century mark arrives, you will be able to bring her back from the Darkness!"
"But I am not a Mystic!"
"Now, you are!" The National Preceptor laughed, and with a flick of his sleeve, a deathly pale, withered arm emerged, pointing at Gongsun Mo. The moment it touched Gongsun Mo, the arm seemed to come alive. It latched onto Gongsun Mo's wrist with a death grip, snapping his hand off.
