"Severus tore apart not only the Rangers' contract, but also the very fabric that holds the world together.
Do you think the dragon soul awakening in your spiritual vision is a chance?"
He chuckled, and there was a metallic chill in his laughter.
"That was the last wisp of my scattered soul, which, over the long years... actually developed an independent will."
Blore touched the scales of the Starry Sky Pixiu and felt the unfamiliar memories flowing through them:
"So you chose to sleep in that... restricted area?"
"It's not a choice, it's a necessity."
Ji Changshu's sleeves moved without wind, revealing the faint traces of chains underneath.
"When the false gods of faith fall, a vessel is needed to carry those rotten wishes. The bones of the gods bury the flesh, and I... contain all the twisted prayers."
He suddenly took a step forward, and the shadows receded like the tide. "Until your dragon spirit awakened me."
Countless fragments of memories emerged in the air, reflecting the last dusk of Nanbaichasong Town - Ji Changshu stood on the spire of the church, allowing countless black threads of faith to pierce his chest, and in the distance, the shadow of Sefros was swallowing the entire sky.
"Do you understand now?" Ji Changshu's voice suddenly warmed. "What's growing in your mental landscape isn't a foreign object, but the other half of my humanity... that I've lost."
Blore turned slowly towards him.
Ji Changshu was still wearing a mask.
The mask seemed to be made of moonlight and shadows. The patterns of the rose flowers flowed with a faint blue phosphorescence in the dark, and the edges of each petal were dotted with tiny starlight.
Those dying flowers bloom eternally on the silver mask, with tiny obsidian inlaid in the stamens. They flicker with the frequency of breathing, as if absorbing and exhaling some ancient energy.
The dragon pattern on the black and green robe is not embroidery thread, but countless tiny scaly crystals moving around on their own.
Whenever Ji Changshu breathed, those dark golden lines would flow deep within the fabric, like a group of dragons lurking at the bottom of the abyss suddenly awakening.
As her sleeves swayed, the star map embroidered on the lining was faintly revealed - it was the southern sky constellations outlined with silvery-white nerve-fiber-like silk threads, and every star was pulsating.
Blore could feel the other man's gaze penetrating the barrier of the mask. That gaze carried a heavy weight, like a bronze sword soaked in a thousand years of moonlight gently pressing against his brow.
When Ji Changshu tilted his head slightly, the edge of the mask glowed like a bronze object, illuminating a few strands of hair escaping from the hood - those hairs were not black, but a color between twilight and iron gray, with tiny specks of light floating at the ends.
"No wonder..." Blore's fingertips unconsciously stroked the scales of the Pixiu, the flowing starlight wandering between his fingers. "In Nanbai Chasong Town, Cangwu will awaken from the eternal sleep He mentioned."
He suddenly looked up, and his eyes met Ji Changshu's empty gaze in the void:
"So, who am I?"
Every word was like a nail, nailed into the board of fate by his own hands.
Ji Changshu let out a light hum that was neither a smile nor a laugh, and the sound reflected a strange echo in the empty underground space.
"Who are you?"
He repeated the question, his tone like reciting an ancient prophecy.
"How would I know..."
The dark blue robe rippled with his steps, and the swimming dragon patterns flickered in the depths of the cloth.
"But you feel familiar to me, like..."
He suddenly paused, and the pattern of the rose flower on the mask suddenly dimmed.
"Like I've forgotten something important."
Blore looked at his palms, the scars from his missions gleaming like mother-of-pearl in the dragon tree's light.
"I'm Blore, the child my father picked up from the snow, the grandson my grandparents love, and a companion to Bai Di, Ma Tuan, and Nan Jie..."
With each identity he revealed, his voice became more resolute, but the fog in his eyes grew thicker.
"These are facts I am certain of."
The branches of the dragon tree suddenly shook violently, and the scattered light dust wove a shimmering net between them.
Blore's voice dropped to a low note:
"But everything that's happened during this time... everything the four of us have been through..."
He looked at the starlight flowing on Ji Changshu's mask,
"Sometimes I feel like these identities are a borrowed coat."
Ji Changshu stood quietly in the light dust, and the breathing sound under the mask suddenly became clearly audible.
Just as he was about to speak again, Blore suddenly took a step forward, and the scales of the Starry Sky Pixiu resonated clearly:
"Perhaps the answer lies not in the past, but in—"
His finger pointed deep into the dragon tree's roots, where something was emitting a faint blue pulse.
"There."
Ji Changshu suddenly chuckled, and the laughter sounded like countless pieces of ice colliding in a bronze vessel, spreading across the space with some inhuman rhythm.
Instantly, the back of Blore's neck tensed—a sweet, rotting smell filled the air, like spices sealed a thousand years ago suddenly coming to light.
Without warning, mist emerged from under Ji Changshu's robe. Tiny phosphorescent lights flickered in the grayish-white mist, like millions of fireflies performing a strange dance.
The pattern of the camellia flower on the mask suddenly came alive, and the petals stretched and spread, crawling along his neck and all over his body.
Blore heard the sound of cloth tearing—no, not tearing, but the teeth-grinding scraping of something massive struggling against its bonds.
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