“I’ll borrow your life for a moment.”

Near the sea off Flame City, on a light boat, Qin Chang Ge’s low murmur was like a whisper, yet it thundered in Sikong Hen’s ears like a shocking clap.

Sikong Hen spun around abruptly. Qin Chang Ge had already whispered a few words in his ear.

His gaze flickered, and Sikong Hen blinked. Qin Chang Ge smiled at him, thoroughly satisfied with his cautious vigilance.

Then she turned toward Bai Yuan, sneering as she raised her crossbow loaded with explosive bolts.

Shui Jingchen paddled faster, and Bai Yuan turned back into the cabin, presumably to protect the queen closely by her side.

Suddenly Sikong Hen lunged at Qin Chang Ge, knocking the crossbow from her hands. The explosive bolt shot into the sky with a sharp zing, tracing a straight black line before falling into the water and blowing up another school of fish.

Qin Chang Ge flew into a rage, sweeping her sleeve to push Sikong Hen away as she raised the crossbow again. Sikong Hen stumbled and fell onto the deck, rolling far away, but immediately scrambled up fearlessly and staggered toward Qin Chang Ge’s arm.

Qin Chang Ge kicked him away. He crashed heavily into the ship’s rail, threw back his head, and spat out a mouthful of fresh blood with a “wah,” collapsing limply. The swaying boat rocked him until he rolled to Qin Chang Ge’s feet.

“Zheng!”

The sound of a qin suddenly arose.

It came from the cabin of Bai Yuan’s boat ahead.

Light, distant qin music, low and meandering, gentle but not weak, drifted across the waves that rippled with spreading crimson, slowly reaching the ears of those listening in silence.

Those threads of longing… reluctance… trust… sorrow… helplessness… farewell… all dissolved into the high, distant qin music like orchids in an empty valley. In a trance, it felt like treading on empty mountains where osmanthus flowers were falling, while under the bright moon, a fragrant orchid quietly folded its petals inward.

After a moment of silence, suddenly flute music arose from the sea, soaring upward to the ninth heaven, wandering among the starlight in the firmament. The flute sound also carried deep reluctance and sorrow, but with several notes more of melancholy and desolation than the qin.

The sea wind suddenly stilled, the layered clouds suddenly lowered, seabirds silently swept across the water surface, stirring up ripples like moonlight, and at the heart of the waves, endless shores stretched ahead.

In this moment all spirits fell silent, listening to the qin and flute harmonizing as they poured out their hearts.

Sikong Hen, who had fallen to the ground, suddenly looked back and said tremblingly: “Wan Lan is saying farewell… who is she bidding farewell to… ah no, not me… she can’t be… no, no!”

He completely forgot where he was and what he planned to do, struggling to get up. Qin Chang Ge immediately stepped on him, transmitting her voice in angry rebuke: “Whether she dies immediately or not, I don’t know, but if you dare cause trouble, I’ll make sure she dies right now!”

Without waiting for Sikong Hen’s reply, she sneered coldly and raised the crossbow for the third time, aiming it at Bai Yuan’s cabin.

Sikong Hen shouted loudly and grabbed Qin Chang Ge’s boot, ramming his head into her leg.

Caught off guard, Qin Chang Ge was knocked off balance, then steadied herself. The crossbow in her hand trembled, and the explosive bolt shot out at a slightly skewed angle toward the bow of Bai Yuan’s boat.

Shui Jingchen suddenly leaped up, and the “qi paddle” in his palm instantly transformed into a soft white cloth. Like Qin Chang Ge had done before, it wrapped around the explosive bolt from all sides, then hurled it back.

Qin Chang Ge suddenly grabbed Sikong Hen’s body and swung it up to meet the explosive bolt in midair!

“BOOM!”

Between the two boats, a human body exploded in midair. In an instant, a brilliant red bloody flower bloomed, and in the rolling black smoke, flesh and white bones scattered in all directions like thousands of flower petals bursting open, streaking deep red trajectories before falling into the deep blue seawater. A rain of blood and flesh fell from the sky.

The qin music suddenly broke off, stopping abruptly.

After the tremendous explosion came extreme silence.

“Ah!”

Suddenly a great shout came from the boat ahead—it was Bai Yuan’s voice, filled not only with pain but also with sorrow and rage. Just hearing that voice, one could feel enormous pain washing over them.

Shui Jingchen, who had been personally steering the boat, suddenly rose up. As he turned back for a hasty glance, his expression changed drastically, but he no longer went over. Instead, he flung his sword horizontally and leaped up, gliding straight toward the water surface ahead.

White light flashed in his palm as he created a boat from condensed qi, spreading it thinly beneath his feet. Cutting through water and waves, he headed straight for a boat at the nearby shore.

Qin Chang Ge shouted sternly: “Stop him!”

With splashing sounds, at the water’s edge, the Phoenix Alliance guards that Qin Chang Ge had ambushed earlier, all skilled in water, emerged from the waves. Their bodies in black water gear turned like fish in the water, immediately surrounding Shui Jingchen.

Meanwhile, Qin Chang Ge had already lowered a small boat the moment of the explosion. Like a flying swallow, she stepped across the small boat and charged straight at Bai Yuan’s now-stationary boat.

Just as she was about to arrive, the cabin door curtain suddenly lifted.

What appeared was Bai Yuan, swaying unsteadily while clutching his chest. Blood flowed between his fingers, staining his entire light gold robe.

In his hand he dragged a woman. That woman hung her head low, her black hair cascading down like moonlight. She kept coughing, coughing desperately, and the hand covering her mouth had long, sharp fingers that gleamed with blue-purple iridescent light, with hints of deep red color. Looking carefully, these were finely polished sharp enamel fingertip covers for playing the qin.

Bai Yuan didn’t look at the approaching mortal enemy Qin Chang Ge, didn’t look at his departing comrade Shui Jingchen. He only stared fixedly at that woman, asking over and over in a low voice: “Why? Why? Why why…”

That woman coughed softly, never raising her head. On the deck where she lay prostrate, pale pink bloodwater spread outward.

Her fingernails dug tightly into the deck as she said slowly: “…You destroyed my country, killed my army, and now… you’ve caused Hen’s death… I… seek revenge…”

Bai Yuan staggered back a step, as if struck again, hitting the ship’s rail. His hair ribbon caught on something, and Bai Yuan suddenly shook his head. The light gold ribbon floated away gracefully, his full head of black hair flying up to cover his eyes that were breaking down from extreme pain at that moment.

“So… you knew everything. So… you hate me.”

“No…” the woman gasped softly, burying her head among the bloodstains, seemingly unable to struggle up anymore. “…Only recently… did I understand.”

The dark, wild gaze like flames from the abyss suddenly focused. The fire in Bai Yuan’s eyes instantly condensed, transforming into two glowing blue-green lamps, burning as they stared at Liu Wan Lan. “Then did you… before… did you ever love me?”

He said with difficulty, word by word: “You… just now poured out your heart through qin music… I couldn’t have heard wrong, couldn’t have heard wrong…”

He suddenly burst into loud, wild laughter. His laughter was even more disheveled than his long hair blown about by the sea wind, echoing far across the water surface, shocking the bright moon dim, stirring up startled waves, making even the distant mountains tremble continuously with hollow, far-off echoes.

Yet that laughter, when it reached its end, became completely soundless.

Great sorrow brings no tears, great enlightenment brings no words, great laughter brings no sound.

…What could have been guarded forever and ever, but because he greedily wanted to obtain more, he lost everything in the end, like the fresh blood now flowing from his chest—once it flows away, it can never be retrieved.

…A lifetime of mad devotion and protection had all turned into these countless torrential waters of the sea’s tributaries. The final qin and flute harmony of his life had become, in the end, her farewell prophecy concealing murderous intent.

That flower he had treasured and carefully tended in his palm for many years had, in the end, brewed poisonous juices in its heart, bearing fruit with brilliant colors and fragrant scent that enticed picking, waiting for him to swallow it without hesitation.

Those who are bound by love are like people carrying torches against the wind—in the end, they burn their hands.

Even through hundreds and thousands of kalpas, the karma created does not perish; when causes and conditions converge, one must still receive the karmic retribution…

Bai Yuan laughed soundlessly, but the blood on his chest had gradually begun to clot. Actually, Liu Wan Lan’s attack was extremely precise, striking right at the front of his heart. The reason this delicate, fragile woman knew human vital points was because he had personally taught her hand-by-hand for her safety.

It was just that she was, after all, near death and lacked strength. Though she attacked a vital point, the killing blow wasn’t thorough.

However, it was still a severe wound that would be difficult to heal for a lifetime.

The queen lying prostrate in the bloodstains suddenly beckoned to Bai Yuan. Her trembling, outstretched finger traced an infinitely fragile gesture in the wind, like the last ghostly orchid flower under the moon, about to wither.

She said softly: “I… will tell you…”

Bai Yuan looked at her with pain, slowly bending down.

What would be the last words of her life?

Bai Yuan’s heart burned with bloody fire, inch by inch grinding through that innocent flesh and blood. Wherever it passed, wildfire spread across the field. Every breath was a vicious torture, every movement was the cruel punishment of broken bones and split skin.

Yet he still slowly drew near that woman, with such desolate hope… Her last words—he wanted to hear them… If he didn’t hear them now, there would never be another chance in this life…

Liu Wan Lan suddenly leaped up.

With all the strength that a dying person could muster after long preparation, she embraced Bai Yuan’s body tightly, then leaped toward the water below the boat!

“In your death, I share destruction!”

In an instant, Bai Yuan’s hand was already pressed against her back.

In an instant, Bai Yuan’s sleeve fluttered as he grabbed onto the boat’s side.

But suddenly he let go of his hand.

The sea wind flowed, and Liu Wan Lan held Bai Yuan as they tumbled and fell.

That moment was as quick as lightning yet as slow as a leisurely stroll.

Bai Yuan and Liu Wan Lan were falling.

On the small boat, Qin Chang Ge suddenly looked up and immediately transformed into flowing light. The long sword in her palm flew like white silk, striking straight upward from below toward Bai Yuan’s heart in midair.

The sword thrust out and penetrated!

The long sword entered the chest of Bai Yuan, who was embracing Liu Wan Lan, piercing through in a shower of blood. Qin Chang Ge didn’t withdraw the sword but, carrying both person and sword, crashed straight through. The enormous impact filled with hatred carried Bai Yuan’s body, pierced on the sword, flying backward away from Liu Wan Lan’s falling form, and he slammed into the boat with a thud.

Crash!

The sword, bearing Bai Yuan, flew across the sky and embedded halfway into the boat’s hull, pinning Bai Yuan to the ship’s side.

Qin Chang Ge hung in midair, suspended from her own sword hilt.

Fresh blood flowed down the sword’s groove and into Qin Chang Ge’s sleeve, instantly staining her plain clothes red. But Qin Chang Ge only laughed—a desolate yet satisfying laugh. She threw back her head, her long hair scattering, her voice carrying far across the sea surface: “Did you think she would say she loved you? Did you think her final song was declaring her farewell to you? Bai Yuan, how could someone like you be worthy?”

The sea wind howled, lifting the black hair of the one pinned there. That blood-stained hair covering his face slowly unfurled like brocade across the ship’s rail, scattering and dancing in all directions like a flag fluttering proudly in the wind.

But whose life’s great banner was about to fall forever, never to rise again?

Dawn’s light appeared faintly white in the distance. In an instant, bright light crossed the sea, illuminating that person’s final countenance.

The first ray of sunlight rushed down from the sky, shining upon Bai Yuan, who was pinned to the boat in the posture of a martyr but not yet dead. Those divine brows and eyes flickered in the ten-thousand-zhang morning sun, still displaying the lush green of a hundred thousand li of rivers and mountains.

He looked down at Qin Chang Ge and finally smiled faintly.

“Qin Chang Ge, are you very happy?”

His expression was both disdainful and pitying.

“Actually, we are all destroyed by those we believe in and follow.”

He laughed softly, and the magnificent, blood-stained hundred thousand li of rivers and mountains were instantly enveloped by that man’s flowing, misty radiance.

“…Everyone is the same.”

The boat began to slowly sink. Before departing, Shui Jingchen’s sword had pierced the boat, and water gradually seeped in. The entire vessel would soon sink into this foreign sea.

Along with those eternally entangled loves and hatreds, a lifetime’s mad devotion, the infatuation that toppled flourishing glory, the destruction staked on a single throw.

And those questions that might never have answers.

Did she love him? Did he possess her? With what feelings did she go to die with her enemy, and with what feelings did he let go of his hand at that final moment?

Qin Chang Ge stood on the boat, watching Bai Yuan gradually sink with the ship, like a deity finally sacrificing himself to his faith, collapsing together with the city he had protected.

Black hair and golden robes disappeared from sight.

The vast blue waters stretched endlessly. Sikong Hen plunged into the water—he hadn’t died. What had been grabbed and hurled at the explosive bolt was merely a prisoner Qin Chang Ge had captured earlier.

The moment he fell, he had already been switched out, and Bai Yuan, across the ship’s rail, couldn’t possibly have seen Qin Chang Ge’s actions at her feet.

What Qin Chang Ge wanted was to “kill” the queen’s most beloved person before her eyes.

When the queen thought her royal consort was dead, having lost her country, her family, and now her love, she finally erupted. Struggling to rise and play the qin, she pretended to pour out her feelings to Bai Yuan, luring him to respond with his flute. Then, with a jarring note from her failing strength, she made Bai Yuan, who had been thinking of her constantly, bend down to protect her. In a flash of flowing light, sharp edges suddenly appeared—her enamel fingernail covers, sharp as ten daggers, plunged deep into the chest of the great minister she had relied upon as her Great Wall throughout her life.

What was torn apart in that moment was not only flesh and blood, but also Bai Yuan’s years of deep, protective devotion—the final emotional bond between them.

Liu Wan Lan must have felt her heart grow cold as death by the end.

He loved her, so he destroyed her. During these days of traveling thousands of li, even though she was seriously ill, she hadn’t lost her ability to think. When such a cold, thorough understanding pressed upon her, how could she bear it emotionally?

Let it all end together like this.

In the moment she embraced Bai Yuan and leaped from the boat, Sikong Hen had already plunged out. However, his swimming skills were not very good, and he thrashed about in the water, nearly drowning. Qin Chang Ge ordered people to pull him out and searched the surrounding area for the queen’s body, but couldn’t find it anywhere. This was water connected to the sea, and today the wind was particularly strong and the waves high, with rushing, tumbling currents. Once a person fell in, the possibility of finding them again was very small.

In the end, the Phoenix Alliance guards only retrieved a cloak from underwater. That pale purple cloak floated gently in the deep blue seawater—at first glance it looked like a person, but it was only a piece of her clothing.

A relic that had been touched by a beauty’s fragrant grace, had covered a beauty’s jade skin, but would nevermore touch the beauty’s body.

Sikong Hen held that dripping wet cloak, leaving Qin Chang Ge with a desolate and despairing silhouette.

Qin Chang Ge gazed at the vast water surface, hazily remembering this beauty who was once called one of the “Twin Paragons” alongside herself, famous throughout the world, yet had never met her face to face. When she was reborn, the other had died. In that moment of sudden change on the boat, with fleeting light and shadow, she had never clearly seen her appearance.

Two peerless beauties, ultimately had no fate to meet.

And the waters of the Li Sea flowed ceaselessly, carrying both his and her bodies into its depths, burying those grudges and loves together at the bottom of the sea.

Perhaps this was exactly her own choice—to seek revenge for Sikong Hen and Eastern Yan, and to accompany Bai Yuan in remaining forever in this deep sea abyss.

Qin Chang Ge looked up. Above the sea and sky, a scroll suddenly unrolled, showing jagged mountain cliffs with the bright moon setting in the west. A man in light gold robes stood on the cliff peak, smiling at that youth-dressed woman and saying: “Life’s most satisfying moment is enjoying such beautiful falling.”

Bai Yuan.

We are all men and women struggling as travelers against the world, falling into fate’s cold chess game.

Shui Jingchen realized he had many opportunities to break through the Phoenix Alliance guards’ water formation, but each time, just as he was about to break through, his body would go numb.

Clearly the harbor where he could reach shore wasn’t far ahead, yet it was like being separated by the edge of heaven, difficult to reach.

Underwater, there seemed to be some strange fish constantly swarming toward him. Though he wasn’t afraid of those creatures, they somewhat affected his breakthrough attempts.

He had grown up in the valleys of South Min since childhood. Though he understood water, he wasn’t particularly skilled at it. But this capture operation had deployed Phoenix Alliance members local to Flame City—these subordinates who had grown up by the water had long been selected and trained by the shrewd Qi Fan in underwater formation techniques. In the water they were as agile as on land, dividing waves and riding currents, flexible as fish. So despite their martial arts being far inferior to Shui Jingchen’s, they managed to use terrain and formation to trap him for quite a while, buying time for Qin Chang Ge.

The task Qin Chang Ge had given them was: don’t think about injuring him, just delay him for a moment.

Shui Jingchen fought while wading through water, the qi sword in his palm swallowing and spitting light. Each time he was about to pierce through an enemy, they would dodge like fish, using water’s fluidity to move much faster than on flat ground.

Anxiety gradually arose in his heart. Shui Jingchen glanced back slightly at the sinking ship—Bai Yuan must be dead by now, right?

This person… could actually die too.

He had known him early on. Though Bai Yuan was younger than himself, his depth and wisdom were astonishing. It was Bai Yuan who first mentioned to him that the Shui family’s accumulated problems were deep-rooted and couldn’t be reformed without destruction. It was also he who, when Shui Jingchen was planning to build a new Yi Lan but lacked funds, generously offered assistance. The construction of Yi Lan had begun preparations long ago, and the financial resources required were truly staggering. Without a nation’s master’s full support, given his time constraints and various inconveniences, it would have been impossible to complete.

Of course, he knew that someone like Bai Yuan would never do anything without return. The interactions of intelligent people are quite simple. He had asked him: what do you want me to do?

Bai Yuan had smiled at him then, saying lightly: “Kill someone.”

When he learned who was to be killed, he was quite surprised. When he actually went to kill, he was even more surprised. How could Bai Yuan, from thousands of li away, control the arrogant and unruly Yu Zixi? How could he make the famously devoted Xiao Jue dig out his own empress’s eyes? How could he use various forces to weave an impeccable net that firmly trapped that woman known as the world’s foremost?

Even more miraculous was that it was an assassination without consequences—he could actually prevent the Xiliang Emperor from seeking revenge for his empress.

Without extremely thorough understanding and control of Qin Chang Ge, Xiliang’s situation, and the interest relationships among Xiliang’s high-ranking officials, it would be impossible to set up such a scheme.

How did Bai Yuan know those secrets hidden deep in the hearts of those shrewd and profound nobles?

When a person’s control over human hearts reached such precise calculation, was such a person still human?

This made him feel cold dread, not daring to betray Bai Yuan. After all, his career had indeed received Bai Yuan’s assistance, and Bai Yuan was always good to his friends, though ruthless to enemies.

When South Min was destroyed, the new Yi Lan was preserved because he withdrew in time. Bai Yuan found him and asked him to do one final thing for him.

He wasn’t without hesitation. The current situation was different—Xiliang’s flames were burning bright with great momentum. Offending them too severely might lead to the destruction of the Yi Lan he had painstakingly rebuilt.

But Bai Yuan merely smiled faintly and asked him: “Is Old Master Shui’s remains properly settled?”

He immediately felt a chill in his heart—the Cai Ju sword technique was the Shui family’s forbidden technique, originally long destroyed, yet there was still a stone carving under the coffin in the Shui family ancestral secret chamber. That was the Shui family disciples’ forbidden ground, where legend said anyone who entered the stone coffin chamber would surely die. Yet his father had secretly entered before his death and made a rubbing of the secret manual.

Immediately after, his father indeed began falling ill. When he rushed back, his father only had time to pass the sword technique to him. Before dying, his father said there were corpse insects in the secret chamber, and he must have been infected. At that time, he had a sudden inspiration—those things that killed upon contact would indeed be the best weapons. So he wanted to bring his father’s corpse along. At that time Yi Lan was about to be destroyed, and he needed to leave by waterway. To preserve the corpse, he hollowed out his father’s internal organs and wrapped him tightly in oiled cloth. After reaching the new Yi Lan, he had been trying to extract the corpse insects hidden deep in the corpse’s skin, but had never succeeded. This was his greatest secret—yet how did Bai Yuan know about it?

Vaguely he suddenly recalled—how had his father known that there were Cai Ju sword technique stone carvings under the ancestral secret chamber coffin? No Shui family disciple had known this before.

Who told his father?

Thinking this way, cold dread flowed through his entire body. Looking at Bai Yuan was like seeing a mythical beast of deception, a spirit fox coiled in darkness.

Thus came the Battle of Gui Zhen, thus came the Flame City reception.

…

Ahead, black shadows crossed, and the formation was turning but hadn’t completed its turn, revealing an extremely small gap for an instant.

To an ordinary martial artist, that gap would be impossible to break through, but in the eyes of a top expert like Shui Jingchen, it was equivalent to a huge opening.

Shui Jingchen’s finger sword qi turned, condensing into the form of twin halberds, sweeping across the waves and stirring up water, striking at those crossing figures.

One person’s body swayed slightly, instantly sliding past. Just this one sway was enough—Shui Jingchen rode his sword upward, his form turning sideways, already flowing like clouds past that person’s side, and with a backhand sword thrust, he pierced that person’s back.

Blood splashed as the person groaned and fell backward. The blue seawater beneath immediately turned bright red. That group of strange fish that had been following Shui Jingchen’s feet immediately swarmed over frantically, crowding and pressing together like snakes, desperately trying to bite at the corpse, but unable to get a grip because of the slippery water gear.

A few drops of that person’s blood fell on Shui Jingchen as he brushed past. Shui Jingchen slid forward without looking back—the formation was broken, and ahead was the beach. Once on shore, no longer affected by the water’s limitations, he could escape and never again be subject to any coercion.

Ahead was shallow water, with a line of clean white beach spread out. Shui Jingchen’s smile was also clean and white, holy as a lotus.

Suddenly his foot went numb.

As if someone had lightly pulled his leg tendon, his leg gave way beneath him. Shui Jingchen was greatly alarmed—there was clearly no one near him!

Looking down, he saw a long, strange fish shaped like a black snake but thicker than a snake’s body dart out from under his foot. Its slippery body bounced and jumped until it reached his knee, then its thick, long tail suddenly whipped onto his sleeve, immediately trying to burrow into his sleeve pouch.

Shui Jingchen immediately shook his sleeve, flinging the fish far away. When he shook it, he felt his arm go numb again, though when he looked carefully there was no wound. He frowned at his sleeve, suddenly remembering that when he came out earlier, he had hastily stuffed the Cai Ju sword manual that had been in the jade box into his sleeve pouch. He had also been splattered with blood just now. Dimly recalling that his father had once told him that corpse insects that hadn’t been cultivated and awakened wouldn’t randomly infect human bodies, but when they encountered fresh blood, they became highly toxic. The victim would be completely unaware, but their body’s scent would become abnormal. Though humans couldn’t smell this abnormality, it held special attraction for sea creatures—could it be that the corpse insects he had been searching for but couldn’t find weren’t in his father’s corpse, but on that sword manual?

This thought chilled him to the bone, his body involuntarily stiffening. From behind, familiar laughter already reached him.

Familiar, clear, yet carrying indescribable mockery and coldness.

Shui Jingchen’s heart sank—this damned strange fish had ultimately made him one step too late.

Suddenly bright light flew across his vision, shooting toward him. Shui Jingchen looked up to see the morning sun gradually rising at the horizon, slowly burning away the morning mist and transforming it into brilliant golden light. At the end of the golden light, layered clouds were all dyed, creating a stretch of gorgeously intense yet clearly layered red. A ribbon-like rose-colored dazzling light wave swept across the water surface, extending from the endless misty waves to his feet.

Another bright day—so brilliant yet so dim.

Suddenly he felt the desolation of a man born in the wrong time. Throughout his life his heroic heart remained unchanged, yet he was always controlled by others. The Shui family sage shone with brilliant light, yet couldn’t match State Teacher Bai’s contrary winds and clouds. Rebuilding Yi Lan through countless hardships, in the end it might very well be making a wedding dress for others.

And at this moment, above the vast sea, he whose surname was Shui but whose water skills were poor could see the shore right before him, yet was hindered by that person and that fish, unable to take another step forward.

Behind him came the sound of qi currents surging, soundlessly approaching, followed by the surrounding enemies all raising their hands and each swallowing a pill.

Shui Jingchen let out a long howl and leaped up, but the patch of seawater beneath him instantly turned deep purple, congealing without dispersing, and moving along with his light sword beneath his feet, always swirling within a zhang’s radius around him.

Without looking, he knew this substance couldn’t be touched.

A voice came from behind, leisurely and laughing: “This thing is useless on flat ground—it’s specially designed for water. As long as there’s water, it won’t dissipate for three days. Third Young Master, today you’re destined to dance above the water surface until death.”

Standing on her light boat, Qin Chang Ge opened her arms in an intoxicated, appreciative pose. “On solid ground I’m no match for you. No matter what tricks I use, I might not be able to trap the supernaturally gifted Third Young Master Shui. But now, I can tire you to death even if I have to.”

She beckoned, and more Phoenix Alliance guards jumped into the water. The formation was laid in three layers. Shui Jingchen sneered coldly and suddenly flicked his sleeve.

A faint pink mist instantly vanished from his sleeve, clear and beautiful like peach blossom miasma.

Qin Chang Ge sat leisurely at the bow in the distance, casually waving her sleeve and laughing: “Young Master Shui, the wind direction is wrong today. And also, look—though you have many poisonous tricks, poison can only drift in wind or on water surfaces, while my people are wearing very stylish gear.”

All the Phoenix Alliance guards who had entered the water wore oiled sharkskin water suits and simple diving mirrors that Qin Chang Ge had ordered made as soon as she arrived in Flame City. They were excellent swimmers and could dive deep underwater. Shui Jingchen’s poisons dispersed in air and on water surfaces were useless against them.

Of course Shui Jingchen could also dive underwater to avoid that persistent purple mass, but underwater combat would prevent the full deployment of the Cai Ju sword technique, and his abilities would be greatly reduced. Besides, how long could he hold his breath underwater? The heavily surrounding enemies could take turns surfacing for air, but he couldn’t.

Most critically… his left arm, which the fish had desperately tried to burrow into earlier, suddenly felt a stiff numbness, followed by a cold breath slowly pressing from his fingertips downward toward his lungs.

Ahead, the gap he had broken through earlier had closed again due to that strange fish’s momentary obstruction, becoming even more densely layered than before.

Outside the great formation, on the light boat, that woman who had died by his hand in a previous life stood facing the wind with her hands behind her back, looking at him with an expression of fight-to-the-death.

Shui Jingchen’s gaze passed over her, looking far away toward the south of the water surface. There, the new Yi Lan stood silently, but the Shui family disciples had already dwindled, and he himself would probably never return.

“The river’s head is not where the wind and waves are worst—there are other difficulties in human life’s journey.” All things pass like cloud and smoke, heroes eventually meet their end. When did this terrible fate begin mocking his and his father’s greed, laying such a sinister trap? He had stumbled into it so blindly without knowing, and these years of effort and ambition had ultimately dug his own grave. Those struggles that abandoned emotion and righteousness had finally pushed him into death’s bed.

The wind roared in his ears like his father’s sighs. Shui Jingchen deflected an approaching water spear with his sword, his sword light expanding as it tore open that person’s chest and abdomen, who fell into the water… Suddenly he remembered his father’s gaping chest and abdomen, that night by candlelight when he gently lifted out his internal organs… Old Master Shui had died with his corpse incomplete.

Turning around, he kicked away a short sword behind him. The short sword bounced away and collided with another water spear, the crisp sound of shattering like his little sister’s laughter… Little sister… That day she had knelt on the ground crying, desperately clutching his sleeve, while he gently extended his finger and made one cut.

The robe’s corner tore apart.

“If you turn your back and leave now, you will nevermore be a member of the Shui family.”

Little sister collapsed crying on the ground. He looked at her one last time and turned away.

That one glance was the final one. He had clearly understood in his heart at the time, yet still cut through the robe corner she gripped tightly, giving her an ending of slowly falling to earth.

…Life in this world is like being in a thorn forest. If the heart doesn’t move, the person doesn’t move recklessly, and if one doesn’t move, one isn’t injured. But if the heart moves, then the person moves recklessly, injuring the body and paining the bones, thus experiencing all the world’s various sufferings.

The thorns along the road pierced his body and lay hidden without manifesting, only surging forth at this moment.

Shui Jingchen smiled gently, still with that saintly smile from years past that had once startled people with its ethereal beauty. Under the sunrise with its steaming rosy clouds, his figure danced like pear blossoms, rising and falling above that mass of deep purple. White light like silk and sword qi dotted the air, blooming complex and gorgeous flowers above the blue sea.

Pointing, stabbing, slashing, chopping, striking, thrusting—facing those black-clothed guards who could never be completely killed and that woman who appeared and vanished unpredictably, striking like lightning from time to time, enduring the numbness slowly creeping up his left arm. When his left arm couldn’t be used, he switched to his right; when his right arm couldn’t be used, he switched to both legs… Endless, ceaseless.

…Since it was nothing more than an illusory dream, perhaps he might as well risk everything.

On the 12th day of the 3rd month in the 6th year of Qian Yuan, Eastern Yan’s State Teacher Bai Yuan was trapped by passion on the tributary of Li Sea, pierced by sword and sunk into the sea.

On the 13th day of the 3rd month in the 6th year of Qian Yuan, the head of the Shui family clan, known as the foremost sage Shui Jingchen, was surrounded by Qin Chang Ge’s Spinning Wood Formation at the mouth of Li Sea’s tributary. Furthermore poisoned by severe toxins, he fought tirelessly, killing nearly a hundred Phoenix Alliance guards in one day and night, wounding Qin Chang Ge, until finally his true qi was exhausted and he fell into the blue waters, dying from complete exhaustion.

Bai Yuan was buried in the sea’s abyss, Third Master Shui died in water.