Chapter 90
Ling Xu rose from beside The Singer's body, which had begun to lie still—though her breathing was still ragged and the blood at her temples had not yet fully dried.
For the first time in that night's battle, the flame within her third eye no longer pulsed erratically, but burned in a steady rhythm, like war drums struck by hands trained for thousands of years, like a heart beating not out of fear but in readiness to either die or kill—there was no third choice.
She raised her right hand, and grayish-green threads began to extend from her fingertips.
Not like snakes slithering as before, but like the roots of a world tree piercing through heaven and earth—thick, powerful, and filled with the hatred she had harbored since her mother was violated before her eyes.
"This time, The Silent One—or whatever your name is now—I won't let you speak again," she said, her voice no longer gentle as when she laid the Singer down, no longer breaking as when she shouted, but cold—extremely cold.
Like ice that never melts even under the sun day and night, like death that never asks for permission before claiming its victims, like the Cancer-like plague that never cares who it devours next.
"You took my mother. You took my childhood. You took everything I ever loved. Now it's my turn to take something from you—your life, your soul, and every fragment of depravity still left within that cursed body of yours."
But before those threads of Cancer could shoot forward, before the flame in Ling Xu's third eye could turn from intent into action, before her first step could land upon the cracked ground, Huan Zheng had already moved.
Not with lightning speed as when he slaughtered twenty-seven Bright Sky Old cultivators in Wuji City, not with his usual laziness as when he yawned in the middle of battle, but with a firmness born from thousands of years of life—thousands of years of watching his comrades die before him, thousands of years of learning that courage without calculation is not courage, but suicide wrapped in false glory.
His left arm rose, his broad and rough hand gripping Ling Xu's shoulder with a force she could not resist.
And for the first time in their long journey together, Ling Xu felt that Huan Zheng was not joking, not being lazy—he was serious, truly serious, truly afraid, unwilling to lose the only one left beside him.
"What the hell, Huan Zheng? Let go!" Ling Xu shouted, her voice filled with irritation and frustration, and beneath that irritation lay something deeper she did not want to admit—fear that Huan Zheng doubted her abilities, that he saw her as weak, that he preferred to protect her rather than let her fight.
"You saw what happened to The Singer. You heard The Silent One's confession. You know that the mastermind behind all this is right in front of us now, and you want me to stay quiet? You want me to step back? You want me to—"
"Listen to me, Ling Xu!" Huan Zheng cut her off, his voice no longer lazy nor flat, but heavy, deep—like a rumble trapped within a mountain about to erupt at any moment.
His half-lidded eyes were now fully open, staring directly at Ling Xu with an intensity he had never shown to anyone.
Not to The Singer who embraced him every night, not to The Silent One who once sat beside him in the bamboo pavilion—no one except the white-bandaged girl who had died eleven times just to stand beside him.
"Your opponent this time is not The Silent One. Nor is it merely the soul of the God of the Vast Cosmos. Your opponent is both of them—merged into a single entity that cannot be measured by logic, instinct, or your burning hatred. It is the strongest God who once safeguarded the authority of all Gods from every rebellion—a being whose mere body can crack the sky and reverse the seas, whose name alone made the entire universe tremble even before the Harmony Conflict began, whose power has never been defeated because no one has ever dared to try."
He tightened his grip on Ling Xu's shoulder, his rough fingers pressing against her collarbone—not enough to injure, but enough to make her realize that Huan Zheng was not exaggerating, that he was speaking a bitter truth.
That if she did not listen now, there would be no second chance—because she would die, for the twelfth time, and this time there would be no resurrection, because the Cancer plague within her would never be able to replace a soul shattered into pieces by a power older than itself.
"And you—you who only a few hours ago managed to transform into a Leg of Humanity cultivator, who has never fought an enemy of this level, who has never tested the limits of the Cancer plague you carry—do you really think you can defeat it with nothing but anger and vengeance?"
Huan Zheng let out a long breath—a breath that felt as if it expelled all the air from his lungs at once, followed by a faint tremor throughout his body.
A tremor that revealed he did not want to say this, that he did not want to doubt Ling Xu, that he did not want to stand in the way of the vengeance she had nurtured for years.
But he had no choice—because he feared losing Ling Xu more than being hated by her.
"Listen carefully, Ling Xu. The Cancer plague you possess is overwhelmingly powerful. I will never doubt that. I witnessed with my own eyes how it devoured entire divine civilizations in an instant, how it turned stars into flesh and planets into writhing masses, how it forced Supreme Dao Dew cultivators who had lived for thousands of years to kneel without being able to lift their swords. But—"
He stopped, swallowing as if forcing down a thorn lodged in his throat.
And when he continued, his voice was no longer heavy nor deep, but soft, almost a whisper—like a father reminding his child that not all wounds can be healed with tears, that not all enemies can be defeated with courage, that sometimes, retreat is a greater form of courage than advancing, because by retreating, one still has the chance to learn, to grow, and to return another day with greater strength.
"If you, as its vessel, cannot control—let alone maximize—the potential of that Cancer plague, then you are merely delivering your own death willingly into the hands of The Silent One."
To be continued…