Chapter 201: The End of the War.
As his cultivation level gradually declined, the last vestige of his divine consciousness dissipated, and gentle yet icy cold waves surged from his fingertips.
The sky was a grayish-blue hue. When Qiao Yanshen opened his eyes, he realized from the surreal feeling that he was dreaming. More accurately, it was a scene within his sea of consciousness.
As one's cultivation level rises, the sea of consciousness gradually expands, evolving from mere awareness into a wondrous space existing within the soul. Influenced by various factors, a powerful mental cultivation technique makes it solid and difficult to invade, while vast spiritual energy allows it to contain even more.
This was the first time she had carefully examined this place. The sea met the sky, its blue hue gradually fading to a crystalline substance, rippling gently and spreading outwards, a coolness spreading in invisible bands through the air. The sky was devoid of sunlight, making the light here appear exceptionally pale.
It is a seamless whole.
She heard a familiar voice: "It looks just like an egg." The face that was exactly like hers appeared in her sight again, reaching out a hand to her.
After Qiao Yanshen took her hand and sat up, the damp droplets slid smoothly and gently off, leaving no trace. In the end, it wasn't even water.
It must be a part of her spiritual power.
Seeing that Qiao Yanshen remained silent, Luo Yang smiled: "Don't you think so?"
After a long pause, she shook her head again and sighed.
"Ah Yan used to listen to me the most," Luo Yang chuckled self-deprecatingly, "and it turned out like this..."
"Are those all your soldiers?" Qiao Yanshen frowned. "It seems they weren't like this from the beginning, otherwise how could the High God tolerate their existence?"
She didn't have a good impression of her.
Although he had let the two women go in the small mountain village before, if they committed further evil instead of making amends for past mistakes, Qiao Yanshen would still choose to kill them with his sword.
Luo Yang lowered her eyes. "They weren't like this before... I've forgotten why they are now. But you should see what they used to be like."
She raised her hand to touch Qiao Yanshen's brow, but was stopped by his pale palm, who gently said, "Wait a moment." Their different shades of blue eyes met, and Luo Yang noticed that Qiao Yanshen's eyes were brimming with tears.
The young man pursed his lips. "You've been making me look at the 'past,' your past. Do you know what I've been through?"
Silence fell over the room. Luo Yang couldn't answer, or perhaps she finally realized this and felt guilty, unsure how to begin.
After a while, she heard a soft gasp from the hand that Qiao Yanshen had turned back to cover half his face, and only then did she realize that the tears that had been hanging in the air had already begun to flow. This person, who never liked to show his emotions in front of others, had once again shed tears in front of her.
Qiao Yanshen said, "I remember the names of many of them. But they are all dead."
Once I remembered their names, we were no longer strangers.
The fates of the teachers' wives are also unknown.
“Your soldiers killed her.” She swallowed her sobs, sharpening her gaze and hardening her voice. “I don’t care what their reasons were, and I’ve seen Luo You in pain, but I will never forgive her.”
Luo Yang gazed at her. Tears glistened in her eyes, like springs overflowing from the deep blue depths of a mountain, streaming down her face. This made her realize that Qiao Yanshen was not indifferent to what had happened… She was still young; she wasn't a god like herself, accustomed to life and death. She could still cry.
She gave Qiao Yanshen time, quietly waiting for her sobs to subside.
Even though Qiao Yanshen's voice was still a little hoarse, she spoke again: "Let me see." She reached out her hand, lifted Luo Yang's wrist by her fingertips, and then lowered her head slightly, letting her forehead touch the other's fingertips.
Luo Yang was taken aback: "You're not—"
“I don’t forgive them, but I still want to know about their past. Everything has to come to an end,” Qiao Yanshen said. “Besides, true revenge is not about repaying kindness with kindness, but about preventing it from happening again.”
The young woman's fine eyelashes trembled like butterfly wings, and tears still slid slowly down her cheeks. Her thin lips were slightly pursed, and her dark hair made her skin appear even paler than snow.
The suppressed bitterness in her eyes was still welling up, clear and translucent like glass, making her look even more pitiful.
It is just like the devout holy child on the snow-capped mountain.
A blue light flashed from Luo Yang's fingertip, followed by a deafening roar that shook the earth from afar in her sea of consciousness, yet it always seemed very far away from them, extremely unreal.
“All spirits under heaven originate from the same source,” Luo Yang said gently yet solemnly, “but the spirit of Luochuan is special and is no longer tolerated by the Heavenly Dao, thus becoming what is known as a ‘demon’.”
The dark blue aura emanating from the two of them flowed into the transparent and gently overflowing water, like a drop of thick ink spreading out.
The sea was no longer shallow, but had turned into a deep, dark blue.
The surroundings grew colder and colder; in reality, they would have long since frozen over. The originally clear spiritual energy became profound and deep, as if connected to the vast source of death, and thus possessed the power to shatter all causes and effects in the world.
"Since you have chosen me, you must accept Luo Chuan's spirit. Your cultivation will temporarily regress, but it will soon be made up for by the Luo Shui Technique."
"You will become the new master of Luochuan, commanding the wandering soldiers of the world and possessing an army strong enough to sweep across the nine regions. At that time, they will all call you 'Your Excellency'."
"At that time—"
Whether in the mortal realm, the celestial realm, or even the netherworld, your name will resonate.
Luo Yang withdrew her hand, and her figure slowly faded away. The vast ocean behind her seemed to be roaring and surging within her, threatening to engulf Qiao Yanshen.
But she resisted the waves, gently reached out, and hugged the person in front of her.
"Go, go back to Luochuan."
Finally, she transformed into a firefly-like speck of light, dissolving within the azure waves that enveloped her.
-
Amidst the ruins, students silently lifted the cold corpses from the ground. Scattered throughout the area, they searched for the victims of this war.
A strong stench of blood filled the air.
Being buried is considered lucky, because most people don't even leave behind a body.
"Sigh...this is truly a terrible thing."
Simmons couldn't help but sigh. She didn't participate; she just glanced at it before turning away, unable to bear it any longer.
After daybreak, they received a message from their sect leader informing them that Emperor Taihui had come to safety.
Many students rushed over without stopping. At first, their heart-wrenching cries echoed throughout the area, but now only silence remained.
And just like that, another day passed.
The external situation is also bad. The sects located in the sixth and seventh domains are the first to bear the brunt. The Supreme Elder of the Wuji Sword Sect forced his way out of seclusion, which made it impossible for him to break through to the next realm. In addition, he was seriously injured and now he probably only has a few years to live. The divine birds of Xihe Palace flew around in mourning, and most of the disciples died or were injured. In addition, the Taihui Sect, after this incident, the outer town is no longer as lively as it used to be. The lively atmosphere has turned into a desolate breeze, and the creaking doors sound particularly desolate.
Many of the cultivators who guarded this sect also perished here.
The Great Clan has inevitably weakened, its strength no longer able to sustain its former glory. Once it recovers, a new wave will surely rise within the human race—reshuffling, accountability, or even taking the opportunity to launch attacks; there will be plenty of things to do.
Yun Zhixiao and Yue Qifeng, one as the new Palace Master of Xihe Palace and the other as one of the few remaining pillars of Wuji Sword Sect, left with only a verbal farewell before hurriedly returning home with their disciples.
There's no longer time to let them remain as pure-hearted young people, enjoying flowers and wine.
What I once thought would be a long and carefree childhood has finally come to a complete end.
Simmons walked a few steps with his hands behind his back, and then heard someone transmit a voice through a talisman:
"She's awake. Come quickly."
She paused, a smile finally appearing on her face, and then quickly ran up the mountain.
......
Inside the small courtyard in the mountains, Qiao Yanshen sat up halfway and listened to the person next to her explain the current situation.
When the conversation turned to the end of the war and the fact that Shen Lixia and the others were all safe, the young man's tightly furrowed brows finally showed a hint of joy.
She hesitated, but waited patiently until Simmons had nothing more to say before taking a deep breath, gently curling her little finger, and cautiously asking, "Then... how are Master and the others?"
Simmons had been keeping the situation a secret from Tang Huairou, and when she heard her mention it, her heart tightened. Strangely enough, it seemed that she finally had someone to care about, and she was no longer so talkative and unrestrained in her speech. For a moment, she didn't know whether she should say it or not.
"Hmm..." She concealed her expression, trying to make her hesitation look like she was preparing rather than being troubled, so as not to let Qiao Yanshen notice anything amiss.
At this moment, Si Changxi, who had been silently listening to Qiao Yanshen and their conversation, spoke up.
“Keeping it a secret isn’t a good idea.” She lowered her eyes, the shadows cast by her eyelashes etched into the fine lines beneath them. “Jinyu is injured, and I don’t know if she’ll ever wake up. Ah Ying has been by her side ever since she found out, never leaving her side; Xiao Han lost an arm, and now he probably can’t hold a knife anymore…”
Chi Yueying was seriously injured by Si Liuhua. Although she was kept alive, it will take some time for her to fully recover.
"And there's Wu Zhuyue... She abandoned her cultivation and her status as a disciple, and left the sect yesterday."
Qiao Yanshen's lips moved, but he couldn't utter a word for a long time.
She waited a while longer, thinking it was her fault, and felt that the short pause was so long. So she raised her eyes and looked at Si Changxi.
The young woman, who not long ago was full of vigor and seemed untouched by time and pampered, had vanished without a trace the arrogance that once slammed her fist on the ground, shouting "Don't meddle in my business!" at Tian Lei. She arrived belatedly, her eyes gleaming with a grayish-blue tinge. Seeing Qiao Yanshen looking at her, she seemed to want to smile to comfort him, but only managed a forced, bitter expression.
The two golden glimmers that shimmered in their pupils faded away, like teardrops hanging in the air.
A bad premonition welled up inside her. Qiao Yan bit her lip tightly, her hands gripping the blanket, her knuckles turning white. Her already pale face turned even paler, her heart pounding like a drum, almost inaudible. It was as if something had isolated her from the outside world, so much so that even the movement of her lips felt external; the things in her sight, the sensations at her fingertips, suddenly became unattainable.
She was swallowed by the deep water, tightly wrapped in a layer of airtight membrane, and could no longer even hear what she was saying.
But Simmons and Si Changxi could hear it clearly—
A low, muffled sound escaped the young man's throat, indescribable, tinged with fear, like the prelude to a hoarse sob, choked with emotion. Her once bright eyes dimmed.
"Master... is she alright?"
A sharp ringing filled her eardrums; she felt her lips moving, but didn't know what she was saying. Si Changxi's answer finally overcame all obstacles and reached her ears.
She said that Xueya persevered to the very last moment in order to protect the sect, protect the other disciples... and protect you.
Dawn is just one step away.
The tranquility of Maoyue Valley is gone forever. Yan Xueya personally wrote the couplet "All things are renewed" with them.
They had promised to spend the next New Year with her.
Now that autumn is here, there is a faint chill in the desolate wind. People who are usually anxious are starting to prepare smoked bacon and make rice wine, thinking about what to bring home.
Everything is getting better.
But some people suddenly stopped at that boundary and never went any further.
Qiao Yan bent down, letting her long hair fall and cover her eyes and brows, slowly consuming the light and enveloping her in a small, bewildering shadow.
Before the silence completely filled the room, she nodded, her voice surprisingly calm: "I understand, thank you for taking care of me these past two days, Aunt."
Simmons was most afraid of her doing this; she was about to speak when Simmons was interrupted by her next sentence.
"I've recovered a lot and can take care of myself and my junior sister now." Qiao Yanshen raised his head, brushed aside his slightly messy hair, and smiled slightly. "There are probably many things in the sect that need help right now, so go ahead without worry."
"You—" Xi Mengsi couldn't help but scratch her head and cheeks, anxiously trying to stand up.
Qiao Yanshen interrupted her again: "There's no need to worry about me."
No need to worry, no need to worry... How can there be no need to worry! She looked like she'd lost her soul; she was probably about to spin silk and suffocate herself in a cocoon!
Simmons thought to herself, but she knew that Qiao Yanshen needed a break at this time. After holding it in for a while, she said, "If anything happens, be sure to call me," and then ran off with Si Changxi.
The room finally quieted down.
Qiao Yanshen sat silently for a while. The daylight outside was bright and dazzling, almost blinding.
As the autumn chill crept over her, she belatedly realized that her cultivation had regressed, and she had probably returned to the Foundation Establishment stage, requiring a long period of recuperation.
A rustling sound arose. Qiao Yanshen got out of bed and walked into another inner room, where he indeed saw Shen Lixia lying on the bed.
She moved closer, stood by the bed, and looked down at Shen Lixia.
The boy's eyes were closed, and he was still wearing the same blood-stained clothes from the night before. His face looked less rosy than usual, covered with a weak paleness, as if he was sleeping restlessly, his breathing occasionally slightly disordered.
Qiao Yanshen leaned down slightly, rested his head gently on Shen Lixia's shoulder, and sighed softly.
She actually wanted Shen Lixia to wake up at this moment.
If that's the case, at least she doesn't have to swallow this bitterness alone... at least someone can share it with her.
However, Qiao Yanshen didn't want her to open her eyes so soon. Since everything was alright, perhaps the longer she slept, the better—that way, she could face this matter later. Perhaps Shen Lixia could still believe in her dreams that her master was alive, because women always held up their sky, to the point that everyone forgot that she was just a mortal cultivator and not a god, and that life also had a destined or accidental end.
I don't want my junior sister to be sad.
Thinking about it, Qiao Yanshen's eyes welled up with tears first, and he bit his lip so hard that it almost bled before he could hold back.
At this moment, she noticed some faint marks under Shen Lixia's body and her brow twitched. She reached out and touched them carefully.
A damp sensation spread from her fingertips, seeping into her skin. Looking back, she saw it was bloodstains that weren't completely dry, bright red and cold, with some small fragments. She carefully pressed on Shen Lixia's shoulder, turning her slightly over. Upon seeing the scene on her back, her pupils suddenly contracted.
Where the clothing was torn, the wounds were bloody and mangled. The scars of the broken wings, severed at the root, were starkly visible. The tattered feathers grew wildly, stained with mottled blood, some of the feather roots embedded in the flesh, making the sight even more gruesome.
Part of it has been repaired, leaving only a darker scar after healing.
My fingertips trembled slightly, and finally I gently pressed them against the winding scar.
Qiao Yanshen lowered his eyes, repeatedly stroking along the surfaces, as if trying to memorize their outlines and textures, to draw them into his memory, and to etch them deeply into his bones and blood.
Although Shen Lixia always disregards life and death in critical situations and seems to feel no pain, Qiao Yanshen can actually tell.
She knew that Shen Lixia was very afraid of pain, and had always been very afraid of pain.
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