His innermost thoughts were revealed, and he ventured into a fictional dynasty with the system.

The afterglow of the setting sun, like a blazing torch, dyed the sky orange-red, but the magnificent color could not dispel the gloom over this land.

The two walked very lightly, each step feeling as if they were treading on a wound in the earth, afraid of disturbing something. As they drew closer to the source of the sound, Qin Qianluo gradually heard the crying.

The cries sounded particularly mournful in the twilight air, like the desperate cries of a wounded young animal.

She hurried toward the sound, her feet treading on the uneven dirt road. The wild grass beside the road looked withered and droopy in the setting sun, shivering in the wind and making a faint rustling sound, as if it were lamenting the tragedy that was about to be witnessed.

The further they walked, the more remote it became. The surrounding trees were sparse and twisted, their bare branches resembling thin, bony hands reaching towards the sky. There were virtually no people to be seen; only the occasional flight of an unknown bird added an eerie touch to the silence with its calls.

The two finally saw the source of the sound—a tower-shaped building. The tower looked like a giant staggering out of ancient times, or a lonely figure forgotten by time in the wilderness.

The tower is built of huge, rough stones, each stone bearing the weight of time, its surface covered with deep and shallow grooves, like the crisscrossing wrinkles on the face of an old man who has weathered many storms.

The stones are mottled and varied in color, with dark shades left by rain and the erosion of time. There are also some places where paint was once applied, but it has long since faded and can only be vaguely seen as some dim colors, as if telling the story of the tower's glorious or mysterious past.

The tower is surrounded by a desolate wilderness, with withered yellow grass almost knee-high, swaying violently in the wind as if dancing wildly or struggling in agony.

Scattered across the wilderness are broken stones, some half-buried in the soil, others exposed, their surfaces marked by the erosion of time, uneven and pitted, as if telling tales of past vicissitudes.

Not far away stood several crooked, withered trees, their trunks riddled with holes of all sizes, around which black beetles crawled. Torn strips of cloth hung from the branches, fluttering in the wind like banners summoning spirits, adding to the eerie atmosphere of the place.

The tower was covered with moss and vines. The moss was a dark, murky green, clinging wetly to the stones, as if it were giving the tower a rotten coat.

The vines, like withered arms, tightly coiled around the tower. Some vines had broken off, and the dry branches swayed in the wind, occasionally brushing against the tower and making a soft rustling sound, like the whispers of ghosts.

There are two small openings on the tower, one marked with a boy and the other with a girl. The tower marked with a boy is very small, appearing to be only one story high. It looks somewhat lonely in the afterglow of the setting sun, and the weeds around the tower grow wildly, seemingly trying to slowly devour it.

The tower marking the daughter is very tall, as if several more stories were built up behind it. The towering tower casts a long shadow, like a huge dark ghost, shrouding the land.

The baby's cries came from the window marked with the daughter's name. As one got closer, the sound became clearer, echoing in the empty wilderness as if lamenting the injustice of fate.

A stench of rotting corpses emanated from the tower, growing stronger in the warm evening air, a stench mingled with the earthy smell and the acrid odor of the setting sun, almost nauseating. There were no houses around; only the tower, bathed in the setting sun, appeared even more desolate, as if it were a forgotten corner of the world.

The two approached step by step. Xuanling's expression was solemn. She reached out and sealed her and Qin Qianluo's sense of smell. With each step, they could feel the ground beneath their feet emanating an aura of death.

When I reached the low tower, I peeked through the window and saw the remains of several small infants. The tower was dark and damp, with water droplets seeping from the walls. The droplets shimmered faintly in the setting sun, like the restless souls of the departed infants flickering in despair.

Xuanling felt a little relieved; it seemed things weren't as bad as she had thought. However, Qin Qianluo's brows furrowed deeper and deeper. She looked up at the rather tall tower, its windows high up, appearing so unreachable against the orange-red sky.

The window looked like an entrance to hell, and the sound emanated from this tower. Bathed in the setting sun, the tower exuded a mysterious and terrifying aura, as if it concealed countless secrets.

She glanced at Xuanling and asked him to lead her up. Xuanling carried Qin Qianluo, their toes barely touching the ground. In the afterglow of the setting sun, their figures resembled two moths struggling on the edge of darkness.

She arrived at the window marked with her daughter's name and peered inside. Just as she had expected, the tower was filled with countless infant remains.

In the light of the setting sun, some of the remains gleamed a ghastly white, while others were shrouded in shadow, creating a terrifying scene.

A tiny baby was crying near the window. Its pink face had turned red from crying for so long, and it looked like it had just been brought in. Amidst the scene of death, it appeared so fragile and helpless.

Unlike the low tower, most of the remains here are clean and intact. The white bones under the setting sun are like memories bleached by time, and each bone tells the story of the passing of life.

The remains on the lower tower were mostly wrapped in small blankets, though the blankets were tattered and worn, revealing only tiny skulls, like ghosts silently weeping in the darkness. On this side, however, everything was clearly visible, scattered haphazardly throughout the tower, resembling a horrific scene after a brutal war.

Qin Qianluo closed her eyes briefly, letting Xuanling let her in while she went to retrieve the still-crying infant. Xuanling, seeing the pile of infant remains, was shocked; her lips trembled slightly, her eyes filled with anger and astonishment, yet she couldn't utter a word. But she didn't let Qin Qianluo go down; she knew too many unknown dangers lurked below.

She brought Qin Qianluo down, then went back up herself, peered through the window, and gently picked up the still-crying infant. The moment she held the baby, she felt the tiny body tremble in her arms, as if terrified of the world.

Xuanling carefully sensed the baby and, after confirming that only the one in her arms was still breathing, carried the infant down to Qin Qianluo's side. The baby's cries were now very weak, as if it had used up its last bit of strength.

Qin Qian landed in the space and took out a soft blanket. The blanket shimmered softly in the setting sun, like a warm fragment of sunlight.

She took the baby from Xuanling's arms, gently wrapped it up, and every movement was filled with tenderness and care. She softly coaxed the baby, and the baby gradually stopped crying, curling up into a tiny ball.

Under the orange-red sunset, that peaceful sleeping face was like a flower blooming in the ruins, bringing a glimmer of life to this place full of death. The baby seemed to know that it had been saved and fell asleep peacefully.

After confirming that there were no still-living infants inside, Qin Qianluo and Xuanling took Xuanling directly into the space. Ling Xue and the others gathered around, looking at the tiny bundle in Qin Qianluo's arms.

The baby's body turned bluish-purple from crying for so long. The bluish-purple color was so glaring on the baby's delicate skin, like an ugly stain on a beautiful painting.

Occasionally, white worms would crawl onto her little face, wriggling and creeping, a stark contrast to the baby's adorable appearance.

The baby still had a long umbilical cord attached to its body, as if it had been thrown into the tower directly after being born. The umbilical cord swayed slightly in the warm space, as if it were the last thread connecting the infant to death.

Qin Qianluo took the baby to the operating room, and Ling Wei and the others hurriedly followed. The operating room was clean and bright, and the white walls shone softly under the warm lights, as if draping this place that saves lives in a sacred cloak.

Various medical equipment were neatly arranged, emitting a faint smell of disinfectant that permeated the air, giving people a sense of reassurance.

After washing the infant with the spiritual spring water, the bluish-purple tinge gradually faded, revealing the baby's delicate pink skin, which shone with a captivating luster, as if kissed by the setting sun. Every inch of the skin was like the finest mutton-fat jade, smooth and exquisite.

The group of women stared at the umbilical cord, perplexed. None of them knew how to cut it. Would it be dangerous to cut the cord so long after birth? The air around them seemed to freeze, and everyone's eyes were fixed on the long umbilical cord and the fragile baby.

Xuanmei gritted her teeth and stepped forward. She had seen midwives deliver babies in the palace before and had some impression of it. Holding the sterilized surgical scissors, her hands trembled slightly and fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

She took a deep breath, as if to give herself courage, and then carefully cut the umbilical cord. Following the midwife's instructions, she left a small piece, carefully disinfected it, and everyone was relieved to see that there was nothing wrong.

Qin Qianluo picked up the baby and walked into the room where the incubator was placed. The room was softly lit, as if a warm veil had been cast over the entire room.

The incubators were like warm little nests, as if waiting for the arrival of this little life, providing her with a safe haven. After placing the baby in her arms inside, she watched for a while, and only left after confirming that there were no abnormalities.

Walking along the road, Qin Qianluo was a little troubled. How should she feed her? What should she eat? Although there were many women in the space, there were no pregnant women.

She pushed open the door to the study and sat down in a chair, rubbing her head. She thought there was nothing left in the Xuanyuan Kingdom that she couldn't accept, but she never expected to see the legendary Baby Tower today.

A chill ran down her spine as she asked, "001, why didn't so many cities have infant towers before, but this place, so remote, has one?"

001 didn't know either; it hadn't seen this "Luo Bao" in anyone's records. "I don't have any information on this. Infant Towers probably only exist in these more remote cities, otherwise Ling Xue and the others wouldn't be unfamiliar with it."

Rubbing her temples, Qin Qianluo wasn't surprised by the result. It seemed to be a common phenomenon, or rather, not a mainstream one, but only something that happened in remote areas. Thinking about the food problem, her head ached even more.

She asked, "What should I feed her? Do you have any baby formula in your storage space?"

001 was also confused. Everything in the space was something it thought Luo Bao could use, but there was nothing for a baby. It flipped through the records, trying to find something that could be used.

After flipping through the pages for a while, 001 said, "Luo Bao, we have formula suitable for you, but we don't have any special baby formula. This should be fine for you too, right?"