The sound of staggering footsteps came from behind her. She waved her hand without looking back, and the woman behind her flew away like a broken kite.
This happened several times before the woman finally grabbed her legs.
She kicked and stomped her, but she refused to let go.
Xiao Nanhui hugged the body under him tightly, vowing to twist every bone and every blood vessel into a rope to tie the other person up tightly.
"You couldn't keep your adoptive father back then, and you can't keep him now. But you, a flesh and blood body, think you can trap me? You're dreaming."
The relic tightly clenched in her hand hurt her metacarpal bones so much that it felt like it was going to embed into her bones.
She couldn't keep him, but she could let him go.
The woman, covered in blood, used all her strength to lift the sword in her hand.
The armor turned into a white light, piercing through her and the woman's body in an instant.
The white blade pierced the opponent's chest and came out from her back. From a distance, the two figures overlapped and it was impossible to tell which was which.
"You said it yourself. There can't be two people on the altar."
The woman whose body was pierced by the sharp blade seemed to understand something and struggled desperately. The sound of her sternum rubbing against the sword edge made a crackling sound in her ears.
“Let go!”
Xiao Nan smiled back, and even though he coughed up blood while laughing, his smile was more carefree and open than ever before.
"You call yourself a god yet you fear annihilation. What's the use of being a mortal?" She spat fiercely in his face. "I spit on your immortality."
Her heavy eyelids slowly closed, she still held the hilt of the sword tightly, and along with the other body, she slowly fell to the center of the deep pit.
"Let's go to hell together."
Falling, and endless falling.
Severe pain spread from the back of her neck throughout her body, and she felt like her head was about to split from the inside.
Countless shadows emerged from the darkness, wailing souls and towering gods surged towards her from all directions, and the love, hate, desires, vows and prayers of countless people over thousands of years engulfed her like a tide.
She saw countless eyes, countless open mouths, countless faces, countless figures, all trying to pounce on her, penetrate her, and possess her.
She became many people, and it was as if she herself was a collection of those people. She began to forget her own face, her own name, and the reason why she came here...
Suddenly, a faint cool fragrance drifted across her nose, and then a force grabbed her left hand and dragged her into silence.
She opened her eyes and found herself standing on a tall building.
The surroundings were silent and windless, and in the distance, the setting sun was blazing. She looked down at her own long, narrow shadow, and when she looked up again, a woman was standing before her.
"You're here."
She looked at him coldly.
"Who are you?"
The woman didn't answer, but just walked towards her.
She looked around at the still scenery and came to a firm conclusion.
"This is a dream. You are the prophet of the Zhongli clan."
The woman stopped, but then shook her head.
"This is not a dream, this is your memory."
Her memories? When had she ever had such memories? After all, gods never retain such mundane memories.
"Even as you say, this memory is nothing special."
After saying that, she wanted to turn around and leave.
The woman behind her did not catch up with her, so she walked forward along the long corridor, but when she turned a corner, she saw her again.
She said nothing, walked past the woman and continued forward, but met her again after the next corner.
The woman gently pulled at her skirt.
"As long as you still have him in your heart, you will definitely come back here."
She turned her head and frowned.
"who is he?"
"Don't you remember him? You loved him, he was the most important person in your life."
She waved his hand away, and when she spoke again there was an almost numb indifference.
"I've met so many people, coming and going, living and dying, at least tens of millions. How could I remember which one he was?"
The woman shook her head again.
"No, you just turned twenty-one. You haven't met many people. He is the most special person you have ever met. You must remember him."
She looked outside the railing, took a few quick steps and was about to flip down from the railing, but the woman suddenly grabbed her from behind without hesitation.
She turned around angrily and swung her palm. The woman did not dodge or evade and took the blow head-on. However, her other hand kept prying her fingers apart and gesturing something on her palm.
She seemed to be writing, two horizontal strokes, one vertical stroke, one left stroke and one right stroke.
She didn't intend to look at the words, she just wanted to leave here.
"Let go."
The other party turned a deaf ear and continued doing the same thing.
She tried to push him away almost roughly, but the woman seemed to feel no pain and could not be pushed away. She just wrote the word on her hand over and over again.
Two horizontal lines, one vertical line, one left stroke, and one right stroke. Two horizontal lines, one vertical line, one left stroke, and one right stroke...
"Let go! Stop writing! I told you not to write..."
She roared uncontrollably.
Suddenly, a picture flashed through her mind.
A pen, a hand, and a little red.
She closed her eyes and pounded her head frantically, trying to make the images that were pouring out of her mind disappear. However, the images only became clearer and clearer.
A brush dipped in cinnabar, a hand wearing Buddhist beads, and a touch of red falling on her palm.
Two horizontal strokes and one vertical stroke, one left stroke and one right stroke.
"My name. Do you remember it?"
Who is it? Who is speaking?
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