Netherworld, within Senluo Hall.
The ten kings looked at the figure sitting at the forefront of the hall, with eyes tightly closed, motionless—Yibai.
"What, what should we do about this?"
"What is there to worry about? The Grand Marshal's Primordial Spirit is simply exiting his body, we just need to guard his physical form for him."
"That's not it. Didn't the Grand Marshal say he'd think of a way to help us? Why did he leave now?"
"Don't overthink it, just focus on guarding for the Grand Marshal."
The ten kings felt quite helpless, but still tried their best to diligently protect Yibai's physical body, to prevent any accidents from occurring.
...
In the Eastern Mortal Realm, within a wondrously perilous mountain.
Yibai's form turned into wind as he arrived here, feeling an all-encompassing ease, his body like a breeze, transcending the mundane, untainted by dust, a soul of pure untarnish.
"So, this is the Primordial Spirit."
