Chapter Fifty-One: The Final Chapter - Death
The icy rain, like a gaping wound in the sky, poured endlessly onto this forgotten industrial ruin in London's East End. Under the dim streetlights, the rusted steel skeletons, like the carcasses of monstrous beasts, cast twisted and grotesque shadows. The air was thick with the nauseating stench of rust, damp bricks, and some kind of decaying organic matter.
Sia leaned against the cold, damp exterior wall of an abandoned cooling tower, breathing heavily. Rainwater mixed with sweat, mud, and even more warm liquid gushing from his numerous wounds soaked through his black combat uniform, its original color now unrecognizable, pooling into a dark puddle at his feet.
Every breath was accompanied by a burning pain deep in his chest. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his left ribcage, as if his bones might be breaking. A deep, bone-revealing knife wound on his right leg made it almost impossible for him to stand. He could only barely lean against the cold steel to support his body.
He succeeded. Just minutes earlier, in the heart of this death zone—in an underground archive room disguised as an abandoned power distribution room—he had found it.
Using the highest-level key provided by Lian Yeyi, combined with the last biometric lock that Mu Ye cracked, he personally took out an old, yellowed medical record folder with burn marks on the edges, and a slightly curled black-and-white photograph stored in a waterproof interlayer from the temperature- and humidity-controlled explosion-proof safe.
The name on the medical record was starkly clear: Dian Kui. Age: Approximately 5 years old. Diagnosis: Severe concussion, post-traumatic stress disorder, retrograde amnesia… Reason for admission: Severe traffic accident, vehicle fire, accompanying adult unknown (suspected to have died at the scene), child survived but identity could not be confirmed… Follow-up treatment: Unclaimed by relatives, transferred to St. Mary's Orphanage (later renamed Oak Abbey)…
And that photo... even though it was blurred by rain, you could still clearly see the little girl in it, wearing a delicate dress but covered in stains and small bloodstains, with slightly curly silver hair and a blank, vacant look in her eyes.
That face, though still youthful, already bore the beginnings of the cold, stern features that would later become Xu Yue's. On the back of the photograph, in faded ink, was written a line: "The only sample, processed."
"Make sure there are no traces." The signature was a blurry stamp mark, as if it had been deliberately wiped away, but the remaining outline matched perfectly with the emblem of the BXX core "Kui" family that Mu Ye had previously analyzed.
The evidence was irrefutable. These few thin pages and a photograph were enough to reveal the cold truth of Xuyue's abandonment, enough to prove the cruelty and hypocrisy of the BXX core. Xiya stuffed them tightly into his inner pocket, wrapped them in layers of waterproof tarpaulin, as if they were more precious than his own life.
However, just as he was about to withdraw as planned and head to the agreed rendezvous point with the support team sent by Xuyue—the abandoned bell tower of St. Anne's Church three blocks away—death bared its fangs.
The Black-Robed Siblings. The most deadly and bizarre assassin duo under the command of Dream Snake. They appeared without warning, like ghosts seeping directly from the shadows of a rainy night.
The Chi, silent as a mountain, possesses immense strength. With a modified dagger, it unleashed a deadly storm of steel at close range, instantly sealing off West Asia's planned escape route.
The demon, with a ghostly figure, was agile and cunning. The bullets fired from the specially made gun she held in her hands were tricky and vicious, targeting vital points, leaving West in a sorry state, with most of the wounds on her body at her hands.
This was a meticulously planned and predictable hunt. The enemy had clearly been lying in wait, anticipating his demise, and had cut off all possible support routes.
With the instincts of a "whale shark" and the combat intuition honed over the years on the edge of hell, Xiya fought and retreated, maneuvering using the complex terrain. Even at the cost of serious injury, he slashed "Mei's" arm with a dagger and hit "Chi" in the shoulder with his last rifle bullet, temporarily slowing their pursuit.
But he was already at his limit. Waves of cold and dizziness from excessive blood loss washed over him, his vision began to blur, and all he could hear was the sound of rain and his own heavy, bellows-like breathing, along with the unhurried, teasing footsteps of the demonic brother and sister, like a persistent, venomous wound.
He laboriously moved to a relatively dead corner on the other side of the cooling tower, leaned against the cold, piercing metal wall, and slowly slid down to sit on the ground. Rain washed away the bloodstains on his face, but could not dispel the thick, overwhelming exhaustion and... a strange calmness.
He knew he might not make it out of these ruins. The rendezvous point was so close, yet so far away. The Hei Yuan siblings wouldn't give him any chance.
"Alright..." A thought surfaced in his almost numb mind. This way... at least the evidence... could be safely delivered... His final task was to lure away the two most dangerous hounds, creating an opportunity for the liaison, or at least, to prevent this truth, obtained at the cost of his life, from falling into enemy hands again.
His hand trembled as he reached out, not to retrieve a weapon, but to double-check the hard corner of the document in his inner pocket. It felt real. He breathed a sigh of relief, then erupted into another violent cough, bringing up even more blood and froth.
Consciousness began to dissipate. The rain and ruins before my eyes began to distort and deform, like an oil painting soaked in water.
Sister Xuyue...
The first thing that flashed into his mind was that cold, pale face, yet it carried all his faith and the meaning of his life. He seemed to return to that cold morning, the moment when he held his younger brother Yanni's cold little body, huddled in a street corner, feeling that the whole world had abandoned him... Then, a pair of warm hands, a fragrant wool shawl, and a clear, unwavering voice: "Come with me."
It was she who pulled him out of the mud and despair, gave him a name, gave him a "home," and gave him a reason and a goal to live. He had sworn to protect her with his life, to protect this cold yet real harbor she had built. But now... it seems he can no longer do so.
"I'm sorry, Sister Xuyue..." he murmured to himself, overwhelmed by immense sorrow and regret.
I couldn't be with you until the end, I couldn't... witness your revenge being fulfilled. This truth... might be too cruel for you, but... you must know...
He recalled the complex look in Xu Yue's eyes when he insisted on investigating; there was concern, dissuasion, and perhaps... even a hint of fear of the truth that she herself was unaware of.
He understood now. The truth was indeed a cup of poison. But he would rather she suffer with lucidity than live forever in a false fog.
Just then, an extremely strange feeling seized him. It wasn't a threat from the physical world—the footsteps of the Kuro-en siblings were still cautiously approaching. Rather, it was a cold, pulling force from the depths of his soul, seemingly transcending endless time and space.
His vision grew increasingly blurry, but in that chaotic darkness, another pair of eyes gradually emerged. They weren't the icy, gray eyes of Xu Yue, but a pair…
Older, deeper, filled with unspeakable sorrow and... a near-eternal, desperate wait. Silvery white, like a glacier under the moonlight, beautiful, yet lifeless, as if it had gazed upon solitude for millennia.
universe……
This name appeared without warning on the verge of collapse in his consciousness.
The feeling was so intense, so real, that it even temporarily overwhelmed the excruciating pain of the genitals.
He could almost feel that on the other side of the city, somewhere, a woman with silver hair flowing like moonlight was suddenly clutching her chest, her face pale as she looked out the window at the rainy night, a single cold tear sliding down her cheek.
Is it over again...? He seemed to hear a very faint sigh, piercing through the rain and resounding directly in his soul.
This inexplicable feeling surged in like a tide, then quickly receded, leaving behind endless confusion and a sense of... liberation-like relief.
The weight of reality pulled him back once more. The figures of the Hei Yuan siblings had already appeared around the corner of the Leng Ning Tower. Chi held up his gun, the muzzle of which gleamed with a cold, eerie light in the rain.
Xiya raised his head, raindrops dripping from his fiery red hair and flowing down his blood-stained cheeks.
Those once arrogant red eyes, later filled with sorrow and murderous intent, were now unusually calm, even carrying a hint of mocking laughter.
With his last ounce of strength, he forced a near-grotesque smile and hissed at the approaching Grim Reaper, "You scum, you've won, but... the game isn't over yet..."
Mei's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, as if she sensed his unusual state, but her finger was already on the trigger.
Xiya didn't look at them again. He glanced one last time in the general direction of the Xuyue headquarters, his lips moved silently, as if he wanted to call out that name, but no sound came out.
Then, he slowly and completely closed his eyes. His strength dissipated like the receding tide, and the will that had sustained him finally crumbled. He leaned against the cold steel, his head drooping limply to one side, as if asleep.
Only the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest, soaked by documents and rain, testified to the last embers of his life.
"Bang!" "Bang!"
Two gunshots, muffled and unusually deep, were almost swallowed up by the torrential rain.
Xiya's body shuddered violently, then went completely limp and died.
...
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, in a room lit by dim candlelight and filled with various mysterious symbols and ancient books.
"The Pure White Witch" Zeus slowly lowered the crystal ball in her hand. The mist swirling inside the ball was dissipating.
She raised her hand and gently caught a tear that had slipped from the corner of her eye. The tear quickly condensed into a small, cold ice crystal on her fingertip.
She walked to the window and looked out at the seemingly endless rainy night. In her silver eyes, which were filled with eternal sorrow, despair was like a bottomless cold pool. But in the deepest part of this despair, a more persistent and more crazy flame was burning stubbornly.
“Once again…” she murmured to herself, her voice ethereal and otherworldly, as if from another dimension, “…West Asia.”
She clutched tightly to a well-worn wolf fang pendant strung on a red cord at her chest—the only keepsake he had given her long, long ago, at the beginning of a forgotten cycle of reincarnation.
“Next time…” Her gaze sharpened, as if piercing the heavy night and the barriers of time and space, “Next time… I will definitely… find you… and break this… damn fate!”
The rain continues to fall, washing away the bloodstains, concealing the evil, and blurring the predetermined path of fate.
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