Chapter 77: Becoming Yun Xianqing.
Are you going to die?
This statement contains no malicious intent; it appears to be merely a question.
Looking at Yun Xianqing, who was emaciated and covered in blood, she felt a deep sense of desolation. She was utterly weary of the constant upheavals, fed up with the perilous situations Yun Xianqing faced, and had seen enough of his regretful state.
What she hopes for now is a way to end it all, to dispel all the negative emotions that are bothering her, and to completely end this ill-fated relationship.
Is Yun Xianqing going to die?
But to her, he had long since died in the Immortal Demon Realm. It was only Yun Xianqing's long-standing entanglement that forced her to confront her undisguised disgust time and time again.
Why could someone like this stand calmly in front of her, telling her with seemingly affectionate eyes not to be afraid?
That shouldn't be the case. Everything should have a cause and effect, and people should be punished for their mistakes.
"It's the seventh floor."
Yun Yuandai, standing to the side, watched her and Yun Xianqing with great interest, as if trying to figure something out.
What kind of pain is on the seventh level?
In Meng Chiwan's sight, Yun Xianqing was emaciated and looked as if she couldn't bear the weight of her clothes. Her bloodless face looked as if it had been covered with layers of powder. She seemed about to collapse in the wind, but for some reason, she kept her body firmly rooted to the ground.
When Yun Xianqing saw her gaze briefly fall on him again, he felt somewhat nervous, or rather, flustered.
He didn't want her to see him in this miserable and haggard state, but he had tried countless methods, yet he couldn't get her to even glance at him.
This was not what he wanted. He desperately needed her to look into his eyes, desperately needed her to take him back into her heart, and was eager to set everything right.
“You said I would forget the word ‘debt’ back then, but Chi Wan, I’ve always remembered. I know I owe you, and I can never repay it all. But all I can do now is offer myself to you. My life is as worthless as an insect, but Chi Wan’s life is precious. If I could exchange my life for Chi Wan’s, I would do it.”
He always carefully considered his words, but now, as he spoke these words, he was surprised to realize that speaking one's true feelings did not require rehearsing.
He once said that the world owed him something, but now he no longer cares about such things. He only wants Meng Chiwan to forgive him and to repay everything he owes her.
"The eighth floor."
The intense itching and pain that pierced his very bones made him lose his senses. It felt as if countless insects were crawling inside his body, repeatedly burrowing through the rotting wounds in his flesh and blood, making them rot even more thoroughly and causing even more torment.
This is the eighth floor.
Meng Chiwan looked at the man who once had a graceful and dignified appearance. The golden cloud patterns on his body had been covered by crimson bloodstains, and he no longer had any trace of his former immortal demeanor.
It's been a long time since I called him "Immortal Lord." Times have changed, but what has passed away seems to come more and more vividly back to life.
It seems there's no time left.
Now, one of them might die at Qi Yin's hands, and the other might die at Yun Yuandai's hands. They've gone through so much trouble, and neither of them seems to have a good ending.
This shouldn't be the case.
So she said, "How will you return it to me? I want to live, I don't want to die."
This was said to Yun Xianqing.
Yun Xianqing's body trembled slightly. He pursed his lips, clearly looking like he was on his deathbed, yet seemingly unwilling to show his wretched and ugly state to her.
He was always conflicted, always struggling, and never truly sincere.
"You won't die." Facing such a desolate person, he didn't know why he couldn't say anything more. Just this one sentence seemed to have exhausted all the strength he had accumulated.
Standing to the side like a spectator, Yun Yuandai's gaze never left Yun Xianqing's. Hearing Yun Xianqing's words, he merely chuckled lightly, a sound that was both mocking and sarcastic.
Time left no trace on the face of this Yun family patriarch, just as his deeds had left no mark on the cultivation world.
“The ninth floor,” Yun Yuandai said, enunciating each word clearly, his voice neither too loud nor too soft.
After saying that, seeing that Meng Chiwan seemed to have no reaction, he said to her again, "Once the seal begins to act, there is no way to stop it. At the tenth level, even a Great Luo Golden Immortal cannot save you. Do you really think that someone who is about to die can save you?"
Meng Chiwan seemed utterly exhausted. She mentally calculated where Wen Liansong had likely gone, and only then did her anxiety begin to subside. She no longer wanted to answer his meaningless questions.
Yun Yuandai didn't get a reply from her, but he wasn't angry. Perhaps out of pity for her impending death, he added, "Look at you. All your failures in this life are because you always pin your hopes on unreliable people and things. Why can't you learn your lesson?"
Upon hearing this, Meng Chiwan smiled sincerely, nodded, and said, "You are right about that."
Yun Yuandai nodded in satisfaction, quite pleased with her pragmatism.
Almost instantly, he felt a golden ring explode in front of him, nearly pushing him several meters away!
Fortunately, he was a Mahayana cultivator after all, and even if he obtained his cultivation through unorthodox methods, it was still not to be underestimated. He quickly regained his footing and looked at Meng Chiwan.
He noticed that the Buddhist prayer beads on Meng Chiwan's wrist had somehow come off and were floating in the air, emitting a dazzling golden light that almost blinded him. On her chest was a golden lotus the size of two fists, its golden petals gleaming. The blooming golden lotus was like a golden cup under the night sky, warm and bright.
The golden ring that sent him flying actually originated from the halo of light from the golden lotus and the Buddhist prayer beads.
The golden ring was surrounded by shimmering Sanskrit incantations, and it continued to rotate slowly as it hovered in mid-air. With each rotation, the surrounding air seemed to be coated with a layer of warm gold, and even the darkness of the night was dispelled, with a clear, soft light spreading out.
He instinctively shrank back, only to see Meng Chiwan lower her eyes and gently tap the floating Buddhist beads with her fingertips. The golden ring immediately grew larger, and the golden light became even more intense, almost completely enveloping his shadow in the halo.
He almost instinctively sensed that something was wrong, but he had been in a high position for too long, so long that he believed the spiritual power he had obtained through crooked means was as reliable as he thought, so long that he no longer took anyone with a lower level of cultivation seriously.
What can a mere Nascent Soul cultivator do to him?
The next instant, his hands turned to ice and slowly grasped the golden ring!
Meng Chiwan gazed quietly at the golden lotus, seemingly oblivious to Yun Yuandai, who was several meters away.
That year, monsters roamed Mount Garan, but she was able to gather the herbs she wanted time and time again, managing to maintain a meager but comfortable life.
Looking back now, perhaps what she had been searching for all along was something she had already obtained from the very beginning.
A peaceful life, days with hope.
As Yun Yuandai pushed the golden ring little by little, obvious cracks slowly appeared on it, and the golden lotus in front of her trembled.
Yun Yuandai was naturally smug at this moment. The girl in front of him was clearly at her last gasp. Although he didn't know why she had suddenly gained such power, she was ultimately no match for him.
The sound of the golden ring shattering was not what he expected; instead, it sounded like the soft rustling of thin ice melting, mixed with the faint lingering echoes of Buddhist chants.
The killing technique also pierced through the aftershocks and slashed towards Meng Chiwan. Not far in front of Meng Chiwan, it rapidly expanded and completely enveloped her!
This girl, who was only at the Nascent Soul stage, had no chance of escaping.
But she was destined to die. Her beloved son, Chen Zhuo, had lost control because of her.
A faint sound of flowing water reached my ears.
The water sword seemed to slowly climb up his back, and the sound of the flowing water grew louder and louder, almost in sync with his heartbeat.
The father and son from the Ke Yun family shared a common trait: both were extremely reluctant to show their defeat. Therefore, the smile on his lips remained unchanged, even though his fingers were somewhat stiff.
In the blink of an eye, the water sword was pressed against his throat.
Yun Xianqing's voice was soft, half murmur, half casual: "Why can't Father ever learn not to underestimate his opponent? He looks down on me, yet he still wants to give his life in my hands."
His smile was gentle and soft, like a feather gently falling onto the surface of a lake.
The golden lotus was completely absorbed into her body. Meng Chiwan raised her eyes and shot out a beam of golden light.
It carried no murderous intent, but rather an unwavering and resolute determination.
Her expression held a faint smile, yet it seemed more desolate than the silent night.
She clapped her hands lightly, as if applauding the grand spectacle.
"Yun Xianqing, even if you were to die for me now, you might not be able to gain my forgiveness. So, are you still willing to die for me?"
The sound was clear and melodious, yet exceptionally pleasant to listen to, echoing the lingering chants of Sanskrit.
She gazed at Yun Xianqing with a focused expression, as if only she and he remained in the world.
As the dry water sword swirled, the spine was extracted from it. It heard its master say, word by word, "I'm willing."
Meng Chiwan smiled quietly, her eyes filled with an unyielding pale golden light. The golden ring gradually faded, but the Buddhist prayer beads in front of her grew brighter and brighter.
“But dying like this isn’t painful enough,” Meng Chiwan said softly, her hair brushing against her eyebrows and wrinkling her indifferent face.
Yun Xianqing fell silent for the first time in a long time, listening to her words etched into his heart, just like when he was young, he quietly listened to the voice inside his body telling him: "Even if your father really gave you the name 'Dust and Turbidity,' you can define those two words yourself."
For the next few years, his only thought was to become Yun Xianqing.
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