Mu Xiyao stood amidst the broken walls and ruins, the wind whipping up charred dust like a silent snowfall.

She forgot who she was, but she remembered the word "protect".

Those two words weren't just a memory; they were a burning passion deep within my bones.

She raised her hand and pressed it against her chest—there was a hollow space there, yet it felt heavy.

Family, teachers

Mu Xiyao stood amidst the broken walls and ruins, the wind whipping up charred dust like a silent snowfall.

She forgot who she was, but she remembered the word "protect".

Those two words weren't just a memory; they were a burning passion deep within my bones.

She raised her hand and pressed it against her chest—there was a hollow space there, yet it felt heavy.

Family, teachers, close friends... all names were devoured by darkness, leaving only a blurry totem, like a crescent moon branded on the sea of ​​consciousness.

When the man in black disappeared for the last time, he left her with one sentence:

"If you want to regain your memories, you must exchange them for the purest 'Moonlight Blood' from the aristocratic family."

Moonlight Blood, a unique spiritual vein of the Mu family's direct lineage; offering a single drop grants ten years of lifespan.

Mu Xiyao did not hesitate.

She cut her fingertip, forcing out a drop of silver-blue blood, which she flicked into the void.

"Ten years, in exchange for a piece of the past, is worth it."

The blood droplet exploded into sparks of light, transforming into a dark path leading directly underground.

She stepped inside, her back straight, like an unbreakable sword.

At the end of the path stood an upside-down palace—

The dome is beneath our feet, and the steps lead us upwards against the current.

Each level displays a scene that has been torn away:

In the first level, she was five years old. She stood on tiptoe to serve tea to her father. In the steamy tea, the man said gently, "Yao'er, what the Mu family guards is not cultivation, but people's hearts."

In the second level, when she was ten years old, she sneaked into the Sutra Pavilion and changed the words "Forbidden Technique" to "Wish Technique" with cinnabar ink. Her senior sister laughed at her for being foolish after discovering this, but instead took a palm strike from the Enforcement Elder for her.

In the third level, at the age of fifteen, as the war between immortals and demons began, she knelt before the ancestral hall and swore in blood: the Mu family would not back down.

...

At level ninety-nine, she saw the moment she sacrificed herself—

White robes stained with fire, divine souls transformed into arrays, and billions of demons were blocked outside the light barrier.

Behind the light screen, Lu Yichen held her gradually cooling body and shattered his own memories with a single sword strike.

It turns out, it wasn't the enemy who stole their past.

It was they themselves who buried their memories in the abyss, just to give the cultivation world a last breath.

At the highest point of the palace, the man in black stood with his back to her, his figure turning to ashes inch by inch.

“I am nothing but your lost regret. Since you are willing to pay with your blood, I have no reason to exist.”

The wind stopped, and the palace collapsed.

Mu Xiyao stood on the ruins once again, this time with tears in her eyes and stars in them.

She whispered, "Master, clansmen, Achen... I'm back."

In the distance, Lu Yichen seemed to sense something and drew his sword, following the light.

The two stared at each other across the scorched earth—

We may have forgotten each other's names, but we can still recognize the warmth of each other's souls.

Mu Xiyao raised her hand, the blood on her fingertips still wet, and she drew a bloody mark on his palm as well.

The two bloods merged, transforming into a new totem, like the newly risen moon.

"This time, we will not offer sacrifices, nor will we flee."

"Together, we will conquer the cultivation world and each other,"

"Reclaim it completely."

A gust of wind swept by, lifting her snow-white hair.

The most beautiful woman in the aristocratic family was now sharp and beautiful, like a crescent moon blade cleaving through the night. The blood moon totem rose into the sky, illuminating half of the scorched earth.

Mu Xiyao and Lu Yichen stood side by side when a crisp "crack" sound came from beneath their feet—

The newly formed moon totem shattered into dust simultaneously in the palms of both of them.

From within the shattered light, a line of small, ghostly golden characters emerged:

"Remembering home, calamity strikes."

In the next instant, the world turned upside down.

The collapsed ruins have transformed into a dark mirror, reflecting countless "future versions of themselves"—

Some sit with white hair, guarding an empty city;

Some were shrouded in demonic energy and slaughtered their fellow disciples with their swords;

Some embraced each other and set themselves on fire, still laughing in the flames.

The mirror spoke in a cold voice, like a thousand ghosts chanting in unison:

"Look, this is how it ends after you regain your memories."

"If you want to defy fate, use what you cherish most in the present to exchange for a way out in the future."

Lu Yichen gripped Mu Xiyao's hand tightly, the veins on the back of his fingers standing out.

What he cherishes most is the warmth of his palm at this moment;

What she cherishes most is the heartbeat that has just returned to her chest.

The two looked at each other and smiled simultaneously.

"Then let's change it."

They pointed their fingers like knives and plunged them into their own chests.

It's not about ripping out the heart, but about capturing that fleeting moment of heartbeat, warmth, and breath.

Along with names, feelings, and even appearances,

All of them were refined into two colorless crystals.

“Use this as a sacrifice,”

"Changing the Future—"

"Even if we are not spared, the cultivation world must be spared."

Crystallization shattered, mirror surface crumbled, and all "future" vanished into thin air.

The world suddenly fell silent.

Ruins, blood moon, black clothes, mirror... all vanished.

Only a long, white road remains, leading to the unknown.

On the road, two "faceless" people walked side by side.

There is no past, no future, not even a name in this moment.

But they still held hands tightly—

Because they forgot themselves, but remembered "together".

The wind blows from the end of the long road, carrying the scent of grass and trees in the early morning.

That was the breath of new life.

One of them spoke softly, his voice unfamiliar yet gentle:

"Hey, there are definitely people waiting for us up ahead."

The other person nodded, and a faint silver-blue pattern slowly lit up in the empty space of their palm—

It resembles the moon, and also a sword.

"Then let's go."

"Go and conquer the world,"

"Maintain the way we want it to be."

They took a step, their shadows stretched long by the morning light.

At the end of the long road, the first ray of sunlight leaped over the horizon.

The light shone behind the two of them—

There,

No totems, no blood debts,

Only two silhouettes side by side,

And a newly born

A morning called "Hope".