The guard's blade, the momentum, the Divine Integration-powered strike, could not stop. The steel, the sharp, unforgiving steel, hit. Not the young man. Her. The woman. The blade, through her back, through her chest, emerged from her sternum. The blood, the arterial spray, the red that mixed with the rain, was there.
She fell. Her body, the pierced, bleeding body, collapsed. Into the rainfall. Onto the wet stone. Her eyes, her beautiful, tear-filled eyes, found the young man.
"Brother..." she whispered. Her voice, the fading, gurgling, dying voice, was there.
The young man, his eyes, the horror, the grief, the world-ending grief of a man watching the woman he loved die for him, was there. His body, the trembling, the rage, the grief, the fusion of emotions that transcended human capacity, was there.
Both of them, hero and heroine, the tragic lovers, looked at the villain. At Tianlong. At the man standing on the cliff edge, hands behind his back, smirking.
