Chapter 71 Sin and Punishment Only a single flame still burns eternally. ...
The first smell was blood.
The sweet, metallic taste choked her throat, seemingly blocked by her prolonged curling up, abruptly waking Qiao Yanshen. As her consciousness cleared, a chill followed, causing her to tremble, but the sharp pain in her chest stopped her in her tracks.
When she opened her eyes, all around was darkness, with only a sliver of light filtering through the gaps in the cold bars in front of her. The space was too small; she was forced to huddle in this cage like a trapped animal, her knees drawn up to her chest, chilled to the bone, with no time to consider how humiliating her current situation was.
Recalling the events before she lost consciousness, Qiao Yanshen reached out and pulled her clothes open slightly. Strangely, although her clothes were somewhat torn and there were large patches of blood seeping from her wounds, there were no other injuries.
She carefully moved to a spot with light, though not as bright as the sun, it still offered a sliver of comfort. The light shone on her, making her skin appear exceptionally pale. The wound on her chest had healed, but the scar was covered with a layer of viscous, bright red liquid, seemingly alive, clinging tightly to it, still warm.
Qiao Yanshen reached out to touch the liquid, intending to wipe it away, but found that it wouldn't touch his fingertips at all, and even if he wiped it, it would quickly return to its original state. Instead, a fishy-sweet smell wafted out first.
Judging from the slight warmth emanating from the wound, it should have a healing effect.
It's too cold.
Her breath turned to ice, and when she tried to use her spiritual power to ward off the cold, she suddenly felt a blockage, as if her thoughts were frozen. Her meridians were still, and every blood vessel was filled with ice shards. Qiao Yan realized that someone had sealed her spiritual power. Before she could figure out who it was, someone walked up to the railing and squatted down. She looked up and met a pair of eyes filled with shards of ice, and a chill ran down her spine.
This was a young boy, dressed in magnificent robes, but his features, which should have been childlike, were filled with a somber expression. Fish fins replaced what should have been ears, and the thin membranes were a pale blue with visible blood vessels.
"Luo Yang." She stared straight at Qiao Yanshen and called out in an icy voice.
Qiao Yan swallowed the churning taste of blood, his voice hoarse: "I am not Luo Yang."
She had a vague idea about the name, but dared not confirm it. The boy seemed to have heard a joke; his lips twitched, a smile that looked more like a grimace. With a soft creak, the railing retracted, and light finally streamed in without reservation.
She reached out and touched Qiao Yanshen's forehead. A sharp pain pierced his meridians, probing all the way into his sea of consciousness. Qiao Yanshen's face turned pale, and blood welled up again. This time, nothing went right. Her unwillingness to show weakness in front of others caused tears to well up from the corners of her mouth, blooming like delicate red plum blossoms on her white clothes.
During her time learning swordsmanship at Frostblade Peak, Yan Xueya allowed her access to the library, where she learned that the young man was using a memory-searching spell on her. The pain was sharp and piercing; he stopped before probing too deeply.
Qiao Yanshen saw a hint of surprise on the boy's face, then shook his head. "I won't mistake you. You have her aura on you, and your sword intent is exactly the same as hers, only a little immature."
She took a few steps back. "I was thinking you did it on purpose, but it turns out you have amnesia."
After saying that, the boy turned around and walked forward.
"I am Cang Yu," she said.
Qiao Yanshen emerged from the chilling cage and followed the other's footsteps. Cang Yu's aura was unfamiliar, yet tinged with a sense of familiarity.
The place she had been in was extremely deep, like the bottom of a canyon. Instead of pines and bamboos, it was surrounded by corals and seaweed of various colors. Fish darted among them, weaving together with the still water to create a scene of a sea city. Not far ahead was a staircase, its patterns completely worn away, leaving only the skeletal stone.
In the South China Sea dwell mermaids whose tears turn into pearls. They are born in the sea and have their own kingdom.
As he walked, the jade pendants on the boy's body jingled, producing a clear and melodious sound, indicating that they were of excellent quality. His clothes were made of soft and delicate fabric with intricate patterns, which upon closer inspection appeared to be a comic strip depicting the moon in the sky, the vast ocean on the ground, a human-bodied, fish-tailed figure holding a bright pearl, and a giant snake coiled in the distance.
It is supposed to be telling the myths passed down from ancient civilizations, but ultimately it is too ethereal to understand its meaning.
Qiao Yanshen followed behind, his gaze lingering on the pair of beautiful ear fins. He thought to himself that such magnificent clothing was rare even among the merfolk, suggesting that the person must be of extraordinary status.
The pain intertwined, leaving her numb. She learned to find joy in hardship from someone else, taking difficult steps, sweat dripping from her chin. Her body and mind were too exhausted; she couldn't even look away, the pain in her chest lingering, the chill refusing to dissipate.
The two walked silently up the steps until Cang Yu stopped. Qiao Yanshen looked up and saw a palace ahead.
To be precise, it's just ruins, a far cry from its former grandeur.
Only then did she have the mind to look around, and found no trace of life. The buildings, the sea, even the white sand beneath her feet, all seemed lifeless. Only fish swam about, searching for food to survive.
Cang Yu turned around, drew the sword from his waist, and pointed the tip at her: "I will make you remember."
Her eyes held no other emotion; the overwhelming killing intent was almost solidified into icy shards. If her gaze weren't invisible, Qiao Yanshen had no doubt that he would have been riddled with holes long ago.
She opened her mouth, but chose to swallow her words back. Why do you look at me with such hatred?
Asking is pointless. If hatred could be easily dispelled, how could it have become such a vast ocean?
Fortunately, although her spiritual power was sealed, Yu Feng could still be summoned. Holding the longsword in her hand became her only source of reassurance. She sensed the sword spirit's anxiety, knowing it was asking where the other sword was, but couldn't answer.
I only wish for peace and safety for Li Xia.
Just as she thought of this, the sword cleaved through the seawater, raising a sharp, cold wind as it thrust straight at her. Qiao Yanshen raised her hand to block, and the two silver-white swords clashed. Unable to channel her spiritual energy, she realized that her physical strength was far from sufficient. Under the opponent's force, her wrist went numb, and the area between her thumb and forefinger was cracked, from which trickles of blood oozed.
"Don't get distracted." Cang Yu attacked again with his sword.
Qiao Yanshen bit her lip tightly, realizing for the first time that she was more capable of enduring pain than she had imagined, still able to wield her sword even when her body felt like it was falling apart. The young man's swordsmanship was not as good as Yan Xueya's, nor was it like any of the enemies she had ever faced. Even Chi, when wielding his spear, carried a hint of contemptuous playfulness, confident that his strength surpassed hers and not taking it seriously.
Cang Yu's every move was precise and sharp. If Qiao Yanshen wasn't careful, she would surely be killed by his sword. She really couldn't understand why the other party had such a resolute hatred for her, a complete stranger. Sword techniques that had never truly experienced life-or-death struggles, even if practiced thousands of times, were no match for his, and even seemed weak.
Cang Yu only stopped when she was almost numb in her hand. Qiao Yanshen couldn't help coughing, and her old wound reopened, staining her chest with even deeper blood. Yu Feng didn't feel like she was being held, but rather that something called fear was sticking to her hand, making her afraid to let go.
Is it time to stop?
The boy's spiritual energy flowed around him, silently shattering any lingering hope. He said coldly, "Watch closely, this is the first move of the Luoshui Technique... the technique you exchanged with my mother and taught me herself."
As he spoke, spiritual energy, like silk threads, coiled around the jade-white sword, instantly transforming into countless fine lines. Cang Yu took a step forward, and this sword strike was swift. A flash of white light appeared, and the sword intent transformed into countless strands, each inch revealing its sharpness as it poured down.
Just like a drizzle, seemingly soft, the raindrops are like needles and knives, forming a giant net that leaves no place to hide.
"The intensity of the rain."
Qiao Yan knew she couldn't resist this move, and Chi had been silent from the beginning, so she guessed something was wrong. She had no choice but to draw her sword. Perhaps because she had exhausted too much energy, she couldn't think of any last words. Her consciousness was extremely blurred, with only one string left taut.
Without spiritual power, only her sword intent frozen solid, she couldn't hold out for long. The raindrops dissipated after falling a little, but for Qiao Yanshen, it was extremely painful. Without the support of spiritual power, she was easily wounded, her skin torn and bleeding. Blood turned into beautiful beads, scattering on her snow-white robes.
Although Cang Yu withdrew her sword intent, she showed no sign of stopping and walked over again. The sword fell to the ground, and Qiao Yanshen, not wanting to fall in front of her, stubbornly reached out to pick it up, not caring where he grabbed it, and first propped himself up. The rain-brake hummed slightly, and only then did she realize that she was holding the blade.
Blood was flowing everywhere, her entire body was unharmed, yet she didn't care anymore. Almost cruelly, she gripped the sword tighter, letting the blade slice through flesh and bone, her black hair falling down to cover her face.
Cang Yu laughed, her eyes showing no sign of melting ice and snow. She merely used the tip of her sword to lift the chin of the woman kneeling before her. Then, with a swift movement, her sword plunged into her shoulder. Old wounds had just healed, and new ones had been inflicted. Without a life-saving remedy, Qiao Yanshen would likely never be able to wield a sword again.
But Cang Yu did have it. She casually tossed aside her sword, bent down, and whispered to Qiao Yanshen, "You owe me."
Qiao Yanshen had already lost consciousness due to exhaustion, but her hand was still gripping the sword blade to prevent her from collapsing. Her body was as thin as paper, and the excessive blood loss had left her wrists and fingertips completely white.
Cang Yu pried her fingers off the blade one joint at a time, glanced at the faint cuts on her palm that revealed the bone, and finally closed her eyes as if she couldn't bear it, as if she wanted to escape the reality before her.
But the dream shattered the moment she woke up. When she opened her eyes, all the mermaids were gone, and piles of corpses lay in the sand—the people protected by the people she loved.
Among these people and their remains, only one person's aura lingered, like a ghost. How could she not recognize this aura? It came from the person she respected most, the person she had longed for day and night since her youth.
The remaining aura on her mother's body was particularly strong. She reached out with her last glimmer of hope, only to have the already decaying body collapse.
Luo Yang, how could it be you?
After searching around, Cang Yu realized that she could not leave this sea. Someone had set a seal, trapping her with the remains of her people, forcing her to spend the rest of her life in this vast tomb.
Now that she has finally returned, she says she has forgotten everything.
The boy raised his hand, his five fingers forming a blade, and slashed his own wrist. Thick blood flowed out, but this time she didn't let it fall onto the wound. Instead, she grabbed Qiao Yanshen's chin, forcing her to open her mouth. Blood flowed into the woman's mouth, a little spilling out, then, as if alive, flowed back in an unnatural arc.
In the South China Sea, there are mermaids whose tears turn into pearls.
A drop of blood can be used as medicine to save the souls of those in the Styx River, to bring the dead back to life, and to heal the wounded.
Cang Yu gazed into the distance at the line of water that was about to dry up and connected to Shen Yuan.
This extraordinary bloodline arose because the Lord of Luochuan was on good terms with the leader of the merfolk, who bestowed blessings upon them with the waters of Luochuan, allowing their people to thrive year after year thanks to the blessings of this water.
You were the one who gave me the gift, you were the one who said you cherished me. You were the one who slaughtered my people, imprisoned me here for a thousand years, and then forgot everything in the end.
Afterwards, Qiao Yanshen was imprisoned again. The air was icy cold, and whenever she woke up, Cang Yu would make her practice swordsmanship. Her spiritual power was sealed, and she fainted after being seriously injured, only to be healed by a drop of blood.
The stench of blood accumulated on her body, growing heavier day by day. Qiao Yanshen herself felt nauseous from being immersed in it, often wanting to vomit but only able to dry heave because her stomach was empty. The chill penetrated to her very bones, and slowly she stopped feeling cold.
This is how it is after you get used to it. Fainting is actually a good thing; when she wakes up, she practices swordsmanship, then faints again. When she loses consciousness, it's night; the rest of the time is unbearable daytime. For most of her days here, she lived in a daze. At first, she would count on her fingers or with sand, but later, amidst the heavily blurred memories and crushed traces, she realized that everything was meaningless. Qiao Yanshen almost gave up thinking, letting memories that weren't her own flood into her mind, telling her fragmented and incomplete stories from the past.
She didn't care. All the hazy memories—Luochuan, the world, the Dao of Heaven, or the war—when she recalled them, she no longer cared about them as she used to. The loss of emotional strength had eroded Qiao Yanshen's softness, leaving only hardened bones, cold as ice, tempered by the chill.
Only one flame is still burning unceasingly.
In what was perhaps the umpteenth or twelfth "night" shrouded in a sweet, metallic scent, she awoke a moment earlier than Cang Yu had anticipated, like a drowning person given the chance to surface, gasping for breath. The flame was so abrupt, the boy's voice like the audio from an old, malfunctioning tape recorder, truly a fleeting, utterly fading sound, like the final, deafening echo of jade shattering.
In that instant, Qiao Yanshen felt the reality of being alive again, and tears streamed down her face. "Don't let me forget you. Don't let me lose you," she whispered, her voice hoarse and soft, her voice urgent and choked with sobs.
Just then, footsteps approached. Qiao Yanshen raised her sleeve to wipe away her tears, thinking it was Cang Yu, but instead saw pure, flawless white. A deep blue ribbon fluttered gently, and those pale blue eyes were filled with unspeakable sorrow as they looked at her.
She called out the other person's name in a daze.
Then, Luo Yang bent down, went through the railing, and gently hugged her. Qiao Yanshen didn't have the strength to push her away, and could only be encircled by those soft arms, hearing the woman sigh and whisper in his ear, "I'm sorry."
“We are one,” Qiao Yanshen said.
She is Luo Yang. All her past denials were nothing but meaningless resistance; this was her sin, her negligence. If Cang Yu wanted her to return to being Luo Yang and suffer these pains, then she must firmly believe that she is Luo Yang, only in this way can she atone for her sins.
In the cold prison cell, the woman in white hugged herself tightly and slowly closed her eyes.
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Author's note: Sorry I went to celebrate Valentine's Day these past two days!
A few additional points: Merfolk reproduce parthenogenetically, and the Merfolk Kingdom is entirely populated by women. The reason Cang Yu hates the senior so much is due to a misunderstanding, which will be explained later. The Luo Yang that the senior saw wasn't the real Luo Yang; it was an illusion.
This form of revenge was certainly wrong, but because of their different perspectives and understandings, Cang Yu was unaware of it.
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