Ding Tanghuan closed her eyes, tears falling as she awaited the finishing blow that would end everything. She no longer had the strength to resist, her heart and mind shattered by witnessing Ji Lingxiu sever the threads of affection, all hope extinguished.
Yet the expected pain never came.
She opened her tear-filled eyes in astonishment, only to find Ji Lingxiu standing with spear withdrawn, quietly watching her. Those phoenix eyes held neither the arrogance of a victor nor hatred for an enemy—instead, they carried a trace of... pity and complexity.
"You..." Ding Tanghuan's voice was hoarse, not understanding her intent.
Ji Lingxiu didn't answer. Instead, she raised her hand once more. This time, what gathered at her fingertips was not fierce spear energy, but a purer, more condensed power of will—the supreme sword intent she had tempered after severing her own delusions and seeing her true self, clear and unwavering.
She formed her fingers like a sword, striking toward Ding Tanghuan's brow as fast as lightning!
Ding Tanghuan instinctively tried to dodge, but found herself unable to move. She could only watch helplessly as that fingertip, imbued with strange power, touched her forehead.
"Sst—!"
A barely audible sound, as if severing invisible threads.
Ding Tanghuan's entire body trembled violently!
In that instant, she felt a heavy shackle wrapped around the depths of her soul, one that had nearly fused with her very being, being forcibly torn open a crack!
An unprecedented clarity, like ice-cold spring water, instantly flooded her entire sea of consciousness!
Those delusions, obsessions, resentments, and grievances that had plagued her for countless years, that had kept her tossing and turning, that had pierced her heart with pain... suddenly dissipated like mist exposed to sunlight!
Her eyes flew open, her pupils filled with disbelief and... bewilderment.
"I... I wasted my Dao path... for someone who never loved me..." she murmured, her voice trembling. "I actually... abandoned hope of reaching the Sage Realm? Spent my days drowning in self-pity?"
"I actually... wasted so many years... on something so illusory and self-deluded?"
An immense sense of absurdity and belated realization crashed against her heart like a tsunami. Recalling her former obsession, her pain, her jealousy, and that self-destructive decision to descend to the Lower Realm, she felt nothing but bitter irony and ridiculousness!
"Waa—!"
She could no longer contain herself. She collapsed to her knees and cried aloud! Her tears were heart-wrenching, filled with endless regret and relief. These tears were not for that fruitless romance, but for the splendid Dao path and long years she had personally destroyed!
After crying for a long while, she gradually stifled her sobs. She lifted her head, tear-filled eyes gazing at Ji Lingxiu with sincere gratitude. She struggled to rise and offer a deep bow: "Th-thank you, City Lord Ji... for the grace of severing the threads... for making me... suddenly see the truth..."
But before her words of thanks could be completed—
An abrupt change occurred!
Where Ji Lingxiu had temporarily severed the shackles of the threads of affection with her supreme willpower, invisible threads seemed to writhe and regenerate within the void!
A deeper, more viscous force of tribulation, as if originating from the very essence of heaven and earth, surged forth once more from the depths of her soul, rapidly winding around her!
The clarity she had just regained dissolved like an illusion!
Those eyes that had just recovered their clarity were once again filled with confusion, pain, jealousy, unwillingness—all manner of negative emotions, even more intensely than before!
"No... no! No!" Ding Tanghuan screamed in terror, clutching her head. "Come back! That feeling! Don't take it away! I don't want to go back! I don't want to!!"
She writhed and struggled on the ground in agony, but could not stop the "Thread Tribulation Power" that had long since fused with her soul, possibly present from the moment of her birth, from closing once more.
Ji Lingxiu watched this scene in silence, a trace of helplessness and deep pity in her eyes. She understood now. Unlike herself, these cultivators born and raised in the Upper Realm, immersed in tribulation power—their "tribulations" were rooted in their very origin. No external force could easily sever them. She had merely torn open a temporary crack, allowing a glimpse of true clarity.
"Remember that feeling." Ji Lingxiu spoke softly, a sigh in her voice. "Perhaps... one day in the future, when you truly want to break free, that memory will give you strength."
With that, she didn't linger. She turned and walked slowly down from the arena. Her back remained straight, but carried a trace of heaviness.
Just as she was about to step off the arena—
"Clang!"
Behind her came the clear, unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath!
Ji Lingxiu's footsteps halted abruptly. She whirled around!
On the arena, Ding Tanghuan had somehow struggled to her feet, a gleaming short sword in her hand. Her face no longer held the madness and struggle from before—only a tragic yet utterly resolute calm.
"It is precisely because I remember that feeling..." Ding Tanghuan looked at her, tears falling once more—not tears of pain, but tears of release, "having experienced that unprecedented clarity... that I can no longer endure... a future of sinking once more into this endless sea of suffering."
She gazed at Ji Lingxiu, her eyes filled with endless gratitude: "Thank you, City Lord Ji. Thank you for showing me what a soul should truly look like—clear and free."
She paused, her voice soft as a whisper yet clearly reaching everyone's ears:
"We who seek immortality pursue freedom and eternal life, transcendence and liberation."
"Rather than spending endless ages to come trapped by these threads of affection, unable to find release..."
"I, Ding Tanghuan... would rather die!"
Before her words faded, she reversed her sword and, without the slightest hesitation, drove it toward her own heart!
"Puh—!"
The blade pierced through!
Blood instantly stained her pale green ritual robes.
She looked at Ji Lingxiu, forcing her lips upward into an extremely complex smile that ultimately settled into one of release:
"If there is a next life..."
"I hope... I won't be born into... the Upper Realm..."
"I am Ding Tanghuan... I should have been... a peerless genius..."
Her body slowly crumpled, her breath completely extinguished.
The entire arena fell deathly silent.
Everyone was shaken by this sudden, decisive self-destruction.
Ji Lingxiu stood in place, gazing at that figure on the arena gradually being dyed red with blood, unable to speak for a long time.
Finally, she only gave a deep, deep sigh.
Tribulation power entangled—to such an extent.
Ji Lingxiu walked slowly down from the arena. What greeted her was the relieved, admiring gazes and enthusiastic cheers of her fellow disciples.
"Sister! That was incredible!"
"The Four Symbols Sword Formation was simply divine!"
"That final sword... truly... magnificent!"
Han Yu stepped forward, a rare trace of praise appearing on his cold face: "Well done." He had personally experienced the agony of having one's heart and mind eroded; he understood all too well how difficult it was for Ji Lingxiu to achieve this.
Chen Xingcai excitedly circled around her: "Sister, sister! Are you alright? You scared me to death just now! What on earth was that pink stuff?"
Ji Lingxiu took a deep breath, suppressing the complicated emotions stirred by Ding Tanghuan's final outcome. She forced a smile matching everyone else's victorious expressions, merging into the celebratory atmosphere: "I'm fine. Just some crooked paths and minor tricks—in the end, they couldn't withstand the righteous way."
In the intervals of conversing with her fellow disciples, her gaze involuntarily, swiftly glanced toward the main seat on the high platform.
Chen Chang'an still sat calmly, his expression tranquil, as if the heart-stopping duel that had ended in tragedy hadn't stirred many waves in his heart. But when he sensed her gaze, he slightly turned his head, meeting her eyes. The corner of his lips curved in an extremely faint yet clear arc, his eyes holding unconcealed praise and... a trace of reassurance.
That single glance instantly smoothed the faint ripples and subsequent heaviness in Ji Lingxiu's heart caused by the "threads of affection." She quickly turned back, her cheeks slightly warm, but her heart was settled and warm. She devoted herself more fully to celebrating with her fellow disciples.
Unnoticed by anyone, Chen Chang'an's fingers resting on his knee moved almost imperceptibly.
Far away on the arena, beside Ding Tanghuan's gradually cooling body, an extremely faint remnant soul fragment—one on the verge of completely dissipating into the world—was silently enveloped by an invisible yet gentle power. In an instant, it traversed space and appeared in Chen Chang'an's palm.
Upon that remnant fragment, still tightly wound with nearly materialized, bizarre pink-black threads—that was the imprint of "Thread Tribulation Power" that not even death could fully shake—virulent and persistent.
Chen Chang'an's eyes grew slightly cold. A blank jade slip appeared in his other hand. Dao patterns flowed from his fingertips as he gently guided them, forcibly peeling away the thread imprints entwined upon the soul remnant, suppressing and sealing them into the jade slip. The surface of the slip immediately showed twisted pink-black patterns, trembling slightly before falling silent.
After completing all this, that much purer soul remnant in his palm—no longer bound by tribulation power—was gently sent forth by him, silently breaking through the barrier of space and entering the Spirit Realm.
'May your next life,' Chen Chang'an silently thought, 'be born in ordinariness, enjoy peace, and truly have the opportunity to resume the path of genius you should have walked.'
His movements were soundless, causing no spatial fluctuations. No one on the viewing platform noticed. Having completed all this, his gaze returned to the disciples celebrating below, as if nothing had happened at all.
[
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