Ye Meier watched helplessly as he was really leaving, and she panicked completely. Forgetting everything else, she abruptly broke free from Ling Qingxue's grasp and, like a moth drawn to a flame, rushed forward, grabbing Zhang Shaozhong tightly from behind and burying her face in his cold back. Her voice trembling with tears, she cried out, "I won't let you go! You promised me! You promised to stay with me forever! How could you break your promise! I won't allow it!"
Zhang Shaozhong's body stiffened abruptly, as if he had been struck hard by something invisible.
For the first time, the Frost Sword slipped from his hand and fell with a crisp "clang" onto the hard rock.
In an instant, countless frozen fragments of memory surged wildly through his mind—it was Ye Meier smiling sweetly, personally feeding him peeled fruit; it was Ye Meier pouting and acting spoiled, insisting on being carried before walking; it was the still of the night, Ye Meier curled up in his arms like a kitten, sleeping soundly with even breathing…
Those images were so clear, with a scorching heat.
But immediately afterward, the domineering and icy chill of the "Supreme Forgetfulness Technique" surged into his heart like a flood bursting its banks. Wherever it passed, those vivid scenes, filled with laughter and tears, shattered instantly like glass struck by a heavy hammer, turning into countless ice crystals.
"roll!"
Zhang Shaozhong let out a suppressed roar of pain, and a burst of cold energy erupted from his body, slamming a tremendous force into Ye Meier's body.
"puff--!"
Like a kite with a broken string, Ye Meier was thrown backward by the shock, staggering back more than ten steps before finally collapsing to the ground. A sweet taste rose in her throat, and a mouthful of blood spurted out, staining her chest red.
"Mei'er!"
The Demon Lord's eyes widened in fury, and his boundless rage ignited instantly. "Boy! You dare to hurt my daughter! I'll kill you!" A surge of violent demonic energy instantly coalesced, ready to unleash his attack without regard for the consequences.
"Wait a minute!"
Ling Qingxue stopped him again.
She took a deep breath, wiped away the tears on her face with the back of her hand, walked step by step to Zhang Shaozhong, stood firmly in front of him, raised her eyes which were red and swollen from crying but were still clear, and looked deep into the depths of his icy eyes.
“My husband,” her voice was unusually calm, yet carried a heartbreaking despair, “I know you must still remember us. There must still be a corner in your heart, in your soul, that you haven’t completely forgotten. Look into my eyes, look into my eyes and tell me, can you really bear to forget everything between us? Forget Qingxue, and forget Mei’er? Can you really… do it?”
Zhang Shaozhong's gaze was forced to meet her tearful eyes, filled with endless sorrow and longing.
A sudden, tearing pain shot through his chest, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. His white hair, tied behind his head, began to fly wildly without any wind, and the previously stable cold energy around him began to fluctuate violently.
Master Xuanji realized something was wrong and quickly stepped forward, forming a hand seal. A cold, clear light shot into Zhang Shaozhong's back, and he shouted sharply, "Guard your mind! Clear your mind! Think of the blood feud between your parents! Don't forget your hatred!"
The word "hatred" was like a key chilled to ice, instantly turning on a switch, or like a bucket of cold water mixed with ice, pouring down on his scalding and chaotic heart.
The struggle and pain in Zhang Shaozhong's eyes quickly faded, replaced by a more solid and chilling coldness. He almost gritted his teeth as he said, word by word, "My hatred, naturally... I will not forget."
He stopped looking at anyone, not even glancing once more at Ye Meier, who was slumped on the ground with blood trickling from her mouth, or at Ling Qingxue, who was looking at him with tears streaming down her face and in despair.
He bent down, silently picked up the Frost Sword from the ground, gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. He said to Master Xuanji in a hoarse voice, "Let's go."
Just as the two were about to step into that flickering spatial node and disappear completely from sight.
Ling Qingxue suddenly laughed, a laugh that was both poignant and desperate, carrying a sense of relief that came from seeing through everything, and a calm that felt like her heart had turned to ashes. As she laughed, her tears flowed even more fiercely.
"Okay, okay, okay."
She said "good" three times in a row, her voice as soft as a sigh, yet it struck everyone's heart heavily. "You want to forget, right? You want to sever everything, pursue your path, and bear your hatred, right?"
She abruptly turned her head, no longer looking at Zhang Shaozhong, but staring straight at Xuanji Zhenren, her eyes vacant, yet her tone carrying an unsettling resolve: "Master, I have figured it out. Please, Master, also bestow upon me the 'Supreme Forgetfulness Technique'."
Upon hearing this, everyone present was stunned, and the air seemed to freeze.
Ye Meier clutched her chest, ignoring her injuries, and exclaimed in shock, "You hypocrite! You're insane! Do you even know what that thing is before you start practicing it?!"
Even the Demon Lord frowned deeply and said in a deep voice, "Girl! Don't do anything foolish! It's not worth it for a brat!"
Master Xuanji's eyes flashed with a sharp light, carrying a hint of barely perceptible excitement and anticipation: "Oh? You've finally come to your senses? You're willing to abandon this pointless romantic entanglement?"
Ling Qingxue smiled sadly, a smile more painful than tears: "Since he has chosen to forget, what's the point of me clinging to those memories? It would only add to my suffering. It would be better... better to forget them together, that would be clean and decisive, a final resolution."
She slowly extended her palm towards Master Xuanji, her posture resolute as if offering a sacrifice: "Please, Master, bestow upon me the cultivation technique!"
Just as Master Xuanji looked at Ling Qingxue's outstretched hand, a flicker of hesitation and weighing of options crossed his eyes—
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