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Little Western Desert.
For over a thousand li in every direction, the land was blanketed in white. Fang Yuan's Time Path clone set foot here, bending down to scoop up a handful of sand and hold it before his eyes for examination.
Each grain was plump and full, crystal-clear as ice, exuding a faint chill.
It was still a bright, sunny day, and the temperature in the Little Western Desert wasn't particularly low—yet this stretch of desert felt refreshingly cool and pleasant.
Fang Yuan's clone picked up another pinch of the snow-white sand and placed it in his mouth. The moment the sand met his saliva, it dissolved instantly, producing a subtle salty flavor.
This was Salt Sand.
In the history of humanity, Salt Sand carried a tale that had been passed down for a very long time.
A million years ago, in the primordial era, although humanity had established the Heavenly Court, the other four regions still teemed with powerful non-human races that oppressed and enslaved humanity.
In the Western Desert, there was a human city that suffered exclusion and suppression from the surrounding non-human tribes.
The non-humans banded together, disguised themselves as bandits, and intercepted every merchant caravan heading toward the human city. As time wore on, the city ran short of daily necessities and gradually could no longer sustain itself.
The human city lord, for the sake of the entire city's survival, had no choice but to compromise with one particular non-human clan—offering his most beloved youngest daughter in marriage to secure peace.
The lord's beloved daughter understood the gravity of the situation. For the sake of every person in the city, she was willing to sacrifice herself.
The marriage procession was quickly assembled and departed from the city, escorted by the city lord himself.
As they traversed the desert, they encountered an old man who had collapsed unconscious.
The elder was gravely wounded, hovering between life and death, his entire body covered in festering sores that reeked terribly. The city lord, seeing he was human, dispatched his subordinates to rescue him, feeding him clean water.
The old man slowly regained consciousness and addressed the city lord: "My lord, since you have awakened me, perhaps you might do me one further kindness. Give me your robes and your mount, so that I may depart on my own."
The city lord's subordinates erupted in mockery—how could such precious robes be placed upon the body of a wretched old beggar like him?
The city lord, however, waved his hand. "No matter how precious my robes are, they cannot compare to a human life. I have spare robes and will give them to you now. But my mount can only be controlled by a Gu Master of considerable strength. To give it to you would endanger your life instead."
With that, the city lord handed the old man his robes, along with ample clean water and dried provisions.
He then ordered a docile sand camel to be brought over and gifted to the elder.
The old man was deeply moved: "My lord, I have long heard of your reputation for benevolence. Meeting you today, I see the tales do not do you justice. Since you wish to do good, why not see it through to the end? The sores on my back have plagued me for years. If a virgin maiden born on a yin year, yin month, and yin day would bite them open with her own mouth, I would be cured."
No sooner had the old man finished speaking than the city lord's subordinates cursed him furiously, nearly drawing weapons to kill him.
The city lord himself was anger, for everyone knew that his daughter was precisely a virgin maiden born on a yin year, yin month, and yin day.
The city lord spoke: "Old sir, do not toy with me. Though I am a city lord, at this moment I am also a pitiful father. I love my daughter, yet I must give her over to the ill-intentioned Feathered People, to serve as another's slave concubine."
"Father, if my sacrifice can ensure the survival of every person in this city, I am willing to accept this fate." At that moment, the city lord's daughter approached. The commotion had drawn her attention, and from those nearby she had learned of the entire exchange.
She walked to the old man and nodded: "Old sir, please show me the sores on your back."
"You are willing to treat my wounds?" the old man asked, puzzled.
"Yes. I am the city lord's daughter, and others say my station is noble—but how noble can that nobility truly be?" The city lord's daughter smiled bitterly. "Only when our entire human race becomes noble will our noble stations mean anything at all. I have already lost all hope and am about to become a slave concubine to non-humans. If that is so, why should I not treat your illness? Our human race is far too weak—even one more clansman restored to health is a blessing."
The city lord and everyone else, hearing these words, were deeply moved and no longer tried to intervene.
The old man revealed the sores on his back—hideous beyond description, festering and oozing, the stench so overpowering it made one's stomach churn at first glance.
The city lord's daughter froze for a moment, but in the end she steeled herself against her revulsion and used her teeth to bite open the sores on the old man's back.
The moment the wounds were punctured, what flowed out was a liquid of lustrous silver.