Three days later, Yinuo awoke.
The world was dim at first—blurred silhouettes, muffled voices, the scent of crushed herbs and incense hanging faint in the air. She blinked slowly, her eyelashes brushing against the edge of the pillow.
A hand gripped hers tightly.
"Su Ning," she murmured, voice thick with confusion and relief.
His face came into focus, gaunt from sleepless nights, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—were wet with relief.
"You're awake," he said, voice breaking. "You're here."
Her heart clenched as she reached for him, but there was an unease creeping in. The memory of the serpent, the weight of the decision she had made—none of it felt fully gone.
She shifted slightly, and every muscle ached. Her spirit felt… altered. Not shattered, but still not whole. Something had been burned away—yet something new had grown in its place.
She felt it: a strange, quiet balance. The serpent within her… was silent.
Su Ning hesitated before speaking again. "It's sealed, Yinuo. You did it. Whatever power was inside you… it's locked back, for now."
For a moment, Xiaohong didn't respond. She stood there, unmoving, her mind still processing what had happened. How long had it been since she had felt like this—whole, in control, without the serpent's whispering urgencies echoing in her soul? It was an unfamiliar feeling, one she didn't quite know how to embrace yet.
Su Ning seemed to understand her silence. Wordlessly, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a familiar art piece, a painting she hadn't seen in months. The delicate strokes, the colors faded with time, depicted a small figure, Sha Mianmian, her little child, locked within the painting.
For a moment, everything seemed to still. The air grew heavier, as though the very essence of the painting held more than just an image. And then, as if summoned by the sheer presence of it, Mianmian appeared, her small arms wrapping around Xiaohong, pulling her into a tight embrace.
This time, Mianmian didn't cry out her name, nor did she speak in the way she once did. She simply held her, her tiny form pressing against Xiaohong's chest, as if trying to pour everything she had into this moment.
Xiaohong's arms went around the child instinctively, holding her as tightly as she could, her heart pounding with an overwhelming sense of love and loss. This time, she didn't push away the feelings, didn't try to hide them. She let herself feel every bit of that warmth, that familiar bond that had always been there, even when it had seemed broken.
"Mianmian won't accompany Mother anymore," the little voice spoke, soft but clear. "Mianmian has done her job. Mianmian kept you safe."
Xiaohong's breath caught in her throat. The words, the finality of them, struck her like a blow. She wanted to say something, to protest, but the child continued.
"I'm returning to her now," Mianmian added, her voice taking on a new depth. "I was a piece of her spirit. A fragment of Huian's soul, given to accompany you through your samsara."
Xiaohong's eyes filled with unshed tears. She hadn't known, not truly. She had always wondered about Mianmian's origins, but never dared to ask. Now the truth was revealed, as the child's essence began to fade.
"Mianmian was never really here. I wasn't meant to stay," Mianmian continued, her voice trembling as if she, too, felt the pull of something beyond. "I was only ever meant to protect you. Keep you safe."
Xiaohong clutched the child's form tighter, but even as she did, she felt it—Mianmian was slipping away, dissipating into the air like smoke.
"Mianmian, no… please don't go. Mother still have a lot to do with you." Xiaohong whispered, her voice breaking as she held on, refusing to let go, even as Mianmian's essence began to disintegrate.
But the child's voice grew softer, and she whispered one final plea, a cry that shattered Xiaohong's heart. "I'm scared. I want to be human. I was human! Mom and Father fed me, tucked me in at night… I experienced everything—the joy when you smiled, and the pain when you argued and left me alone. Mother, help me. Please."
Tears blurred Xiaohong's vision as she shook her head in helplessness, unable to speak, her heart breaking for the little one who had been so full of life, even if just for a brief time.
She froze, unable to move, unable to breathe as she felt the warmth of Mianmian fade completely.
"Don't go, my child…" Xiaohong murmured, her voice choked with emotion, her tears falling freely now.
Mianmian's essence whispered, "I've done my part... I'm returning to her... and now, it's time for you to continue."
And then, with that final sigh, Mianmian was gone.
Xiaohong collapsed to her knees, her body trembling. For a moment, she could only hold the air where Mianmian had once been, feeling the child's love lingering even after the physical form was no more.
Su Ning, standing silently by her side, moved to kneel beside her. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. His presence was solid, unwavering—just as it had always been, a quiet support that grounded her even in the depths of her grief.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The weight of what had just occurred hung heavily in the air, a raw, shared silence between them. Xiaohong buried her face in Su Ning's shoulder, her quiet sobs muffled against him.
Yinuo's gaze shifted past him, her thoughts distant. "Zhang Li?"
His absence echoed in her mind like a forgotten memory, the weight of his final letter still heavy in her heart.
Gone.
He had left a single scroll, sealed with his blood.
"Yinou
I won't ask for forgiveness. I have no right.
But I want you to know—everything I did was to protect you, even if I did it wrong.
Live freely now. Not as a vessel. Not as a weapon. But as yourself.
When the wind shifts over the mountains, and the stars seem still—
Know that I am watching, quietly.
Always your brother,
—Li
Her tears fell softly, quiet and bitter. The pain of his departure—the love and sacrifice hidden in his words—struck her deeply, but with Su Ning by her side, she allowed herself to feel the loss.
But that moment of peace shattered.
The ritual chamber trembled beneath the surge of corrupted qi, the very walls screaming in protest as the Shadow Serpent coiled within its ethereal prison. Cracks veined through the floors, through time itself, as the world teetered on collapse.
And there she stood—Xiao Hong, no... Yinuo.
Her eyes, once glassy from torment, now burned with terrifying clarity. Hair clinging to her face, blood caking her skin, her breath came out in wisps, visible in the cursed cold. But she was standing—trembling, yes—but standing between the world and the end of it.
"I can hold it back," Yinuo whispered. The words barely left her lips, but everyone heard them. Her voice felt like it echoed across the planes of life and death.
Su Ning took a step forward. "No. There has to be another way."
"There isn't," Lan Hua said quietly, his voice hoarse with grief. "She's the only one who can absorb the serpent's essence. It responds to her now… because of the samsara cycle. Because of what Huain did."
"I was reborn for this," Yinuo said, smiling faintly, brokenly. "It's funny. All this time, I wanted to live. Then I wanted to die. And now… now I want to protect. Even if I disappear."
Su Ning grabbed her wrist before she could walk further. His hands trembled. "You don't understand. If you bind yourself to the seal, it's not just death. You'll fade. We'll lose all traces of you."
Her voice cracked. "I know."
He saw the crack in her strength, the barely-hidden fear. And then, she leaned in, her head resting weakly on his chest, her arms curling around him like she was trying to keep her own soul from slipping away.
"I might go crazy again," she whispered, her voice small and shaking. "Like before. Like when I killed. When I didn't know who I was."
Su Ning pressed his forehead to hers, tears catching in his lashes. "I know. But even then… I'll remember who you are."
A sob broke from her chest. "I'm scared."
"I'll come with you," he said, barely audible. "Not in death… but in memory. In the seal, if you let me."
"No," she said softly. "You still have to live. Susu, Li Yang, Bai Lin, Mei, the rest—they need you."
He didn't speak. Just held her tighter.
But then came Jiu Tian.
"No! You can't! This isn't what was supposed to happen!" he cried, his voice filled with fury. "I… I betrayed you, Yinuo, but not for this! I didn't want you to die! I wanted the original soul back. I only wanted the real you, the real soul—what you're doing, it's a sacrifice for nothing!"
The words struck her like a physical blow, shaking the last thread of control she had. Anger boiled in her chest—betrayal cutting deeper than any blade.
But before she could react, Jiu Tian unleashed a violent wave of magic. His spell hit her square in the chest, forcing the serpent to surge to the forefront. Yinuo gasped in pain, her limbs jerking as the cursed power inside her began to spiral out of control.
Her eyes widened. "No—! I'm still in control—" but her voice was swallowed by the serpent's roar.
Su Ning rushed to stop her. His body moved instinctively, his hands reaching out, but he knew he couldn't match her power. Instead of fighting with strength, he fought with precision, soft movements that redirected her force, his hands brushing her arms just enough to steer her from attacking those around her.
"You're not lost!" he shouted, trying to reach her, his voice strained. His movements were subtle, his fingers grazing her wrist, her shoulder, just enough to guide her but never harm her.
But it wasn't enough.
In the chaos, Mei, the child she had sworn to protect, was thrown across the room by the force of Yinuo's erratic power. Immortal Lan Hua, attempting to shield Mei, was struck down by a blast. Blood poured her mouth as she crumpled to the floor.
"No!" Su Ning yelled, but before he could reach her, Bai Lin threw himself into the way, stepping in front of Lan Hua. He took the full brunt of the force's impact, the force ripping through his chest. He fell, his body collapsing into the darkened floor.
"Bai Lin!" Lan Hua cried out, but it was too late. He became still.
"No!" Yinuo screamed, but her body moved on its own, her eyes wild and pained. The serpent's power surged within her, and she lost herself again.
And then, Susu arrived. She had been hidden away in the shadows, waiting for the right moment. Her heart ached as she saw Yinuo's destruction.
"Yinuo! Stop!" Susu shouted, running towards her.
Su Ning's eyes caught her, and in that moment, they shared a silent understanding. He could no longer reach her. But Susu—Susu was her anchor.
With tears streaming down her face, Susu reached for Yinuo, calling her name, a soft, pleading sound. "Yinuo… please. You don't have to do this. Come back to me."
Yinuo's eyes flickered—confusion, pain, and recognition all blended into one fleeting moment.
Susu stepped forward, and with a soft touch, she cupped Yinuo's face in her hands, eyes full of love and desperation.
"You're not alone," Susu whispered. "You never were. You don't have to be the weapon anymore. You're mine. You're our sister. We need you."
The warmth of Susu's hands on her cheeks grounded Yinuo, the tension in her body easing. The power inside her began to quiet.
With a shaky breath, Yinuo's gaze softened, and the serpent within her, for the first time in what felt like eternity, fell silent.
And that's when Yinuo came back.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, and with it, her own voice returned, weak but resolute.
"I'm… sorry."
She collapsed into Susu's arms, her body trembling with exhaustion.
Su Ning was at her side in an instant, but he said nothing. Instead, he wrapped his arms around them both, silently vowing to protect them from the coming storm.
For a moment, everything seemed to pause. The air around them, heavy with uncertainty and grief, felt almost still. Yinuo's heart beat in rhythm with the quiet understanding between them—an unspoken promise that, no matter the cost, they would face what was to come together.
But peace is fleeting in such times.
And then, Lan Hua moved.
Her eyes, cold as ever, locked onto Yinuo with a clarity born of desperation. She had seen the way things were supposed to end, the way they must be sealed. This was the only choice left, and she would not let anything or anyone—least of all Yinuo—stand in her way.
With one swift motion, Lan Hua raised her hand, and the air around them thickened with the pulse of raw energy. "You have no choice, Yinou," she called out, her voice filled with authority. "You must become the seal. You must hold back the serpent."
Yinuo's heart dropped. She knew what Lan Hua intended—she would bind Yinuo to the serpent's curse once and for all, locking her away with the demon in the deepest prison of her soul. But there was more—something darker and far more twisted.
Lan Hua's gaze turned to Mei, and a cruel smile touched her lips. The child—the one Yinuo had tried so desperately to protect—was lifted in a swirl of magic, her small body hovering, helpless, in the air.
"Mei will be the sacrifice," Lan Hua declared, her voice laced with grim certainty. "Only through her pure blood can the serpent be sealed for good."
"No!" Yinuo cried out, a surge of panic flooding her chest. She tried to move, but her limbs felt heavy, still trembling from the battle with the serpent's power. "You can't—!"
But before she could finish, Li Yang stepped forward. Her face was pale, her body battered from the earlier chaos, but her resolve had never been clearer.
"Stop," she said, her voice hoarse but firm. She stood between Lan Hua and Mei, his arms outstretched as if she could physically block her from carrying out the sacrifice. "You won't take Mei. You won't take anyone."
Lan Hua froze, the moment hanging in the air like the calm before a storm. "Li Yang, you are wasting your time. The seal requires this sacrifice. There is no other way."
"No," Li Yang said firmly, her voice gaining strength as he stepped closer. "I won't let you decide who lives and who dies. I won't let you use Mei or anyone else to bind the serpent. There must be another way."
Lan Hua's eyes hardened. "Then you would doom us all? You think your love for this child will save the world? You're a fool."
But Li Yang did not back down. Her gaze was unwavering, and there was a fierceness in her that made Lan Hua pause.
Yinuo, her vision blurred with tears and the last remnants of power, looked up at the scene unfolding. She couldn't believe what she was hearing—this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Mei was not the key to the serpent's seal. She should never be.
Before Lan Hua could react, Bai Lin emerged from the shadows, his movements slow but purposeful. He had been near death, but the fire in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Enough," he said, his voice grave, though there was a softness to it. "The child will not be sacrificed."
He stepped forward, his body still weak, but his resolve burned bright. In a swift motion, he pushed past Lan Hua, positioning himself between her and the child.
"You can't do this," Bai Lin said. "If we are to stop the serpent, it will be with our will, not bloodshed."
Lan Hua snarled in frustration, her patience snapping. But before she could strike, Li Yang moved again, stepping between Bai Lin and Lan Hua. She stood there, her body poised, ready to protect.
"Li Yang," Lan Hua warned, her eyes flashing with a sudden fury. "Stay out of this. This is not your fight."
But she didn't move. She couldn't move. Not when Mei's life and Yinuo's hung in the balance.
In the moments that followed, there was no sound but the oppressive weight of magic swirling around them, tension thick in the air. Everyone stood, waiting. And then, the unimaginable happened.
Bai Lin lunged forward, his body colliding with Lan Hua's attack. The force of the magic sent him flying backward, but his determination held. He took the brunt of the blow, sacrificing himself to protect Mei.
"Bai Lin!" Lan Hua screamed, her voice breaking as she saw him fall, blood staining the ground beneath him.
In that moment, the world seemed to stop.
Yinuo's breath caught in her throat as she watched Bai Lin fall. His body crumpled onto the cold floor, lifeless.
"No..." Yinuo whispered, a sob escaping her lips. "No!"
Her body trembled with grief and fury, the serpent's power awakening again within her. But now, it was different. It wasn't just a force she couldn't control—it was the embodiment of her loss, her guilt.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight.
But the only thing she could do was hold on to the fleeting memory of Bai Lin's sacrifice.
The silence that followed Bai Lin's fall was like a final breath—one that no one dared exhale.
Lan Hua dropped to her knees, staring at the man who had once been her ally, her fiercest rival, and perhaps, in another life, her only equal. Her fingers trembled, reaching toward him, but he was already gone. The light in his eyes had dimmed. The last of his qi unraveled into the wind.
Yinuo's vision blurred, tears falling freely. Her fingers curled against the cracked stone floor, the ache in her chest louder than the serpent's roar in her blood. So many had died—for her, because of her. It had to end.
Slowly, she rose.
"Mei will live," she said, her voice like steel under silk. "Bai Lin's sacrifice won't be in vain."
Lan Hua lifted her head, her expression a ruin of sorrow and disbelief. "You're crazy...you can't do it without Mei's pure blood."
Yinuo sneered at her remark . Her hands were steady now, even as the cursed energy wrapped around her like a second skin. "The serpent chose me. This life… maybe it was always meant to end here. But I'll end it on my terms."
Li Yang stepped forward, eyes wide. "What are you goin to do?"
Yinuo turned to her, and a soft smile tugged at her lips. "You said it yourself once, remember? Some endings are written with blood. Mine just happens to be inked in every life I've ever lived."
Su Ning grabbed her wrist. His hands were shaking again.
"I won't let you go," he said, barely above a whisper. "Not like this. Not again."
She turned to him slowly, her gaze gentle and infinite.
"You've always carried me, Su Ning. Through madness, through memory. But this… I have to carry alone."
He shook his head violently. "I don't care if it kills me—I'll fight fate with you!"
Her hand rose to his cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. "You already have."
Then, she looked past him—to Susu, to Mei, to Li Yang, even to the broken Lan Hua.
"You all gave me something no one else ever did," she whispered. "A place where I wasn't just a vessel. You made me human."
A wind stirred, unnatural, heavy with destiny. The serpent within her pulsed, waiting, sensing the truth.
This was the end.
Yinuo stepped toward the altar—the ancient seal, still cracked from centuries of failed bindings. She stood at the heart of it, blood dripping from her hands, the remains of her essence unraveling with every breath.
The serpent within her screamed. The world shook.
"By my name," she whispered, "by the soul that wandered through a thousand lives—I bind you."
The serpent surged up through her veins, roaring to escape, but her spirit clamped down. She gritted her teeth as agony laced every nerve, every thought.
"In this life… and in no other…"
Golden light erupted from the altar, swallowing her whole. Her robes fluttered, caught in the storm of power and qi.
"I offer myself not as a vessel—but as a seal."
"Yinou!" Su Ning cried out, rushing forward.
But it was too late.
Her body lifted from the ground, hair floating in a cascade of starlight and flame. Her eyes, those haunted and resolute eyes ,met his one last time.
"I love you," she mouthed, inaudible.
Then—silence. No flash, no tremor, no warning. Just absence.
The serpent's roar died mid-howl, like breath stolen from the wind itself. The altar, once convulsing with sacred energy, now stilled to a desolate hush. The ritual had ended. But at what cost?
Su Ning stood frozen as Ling Yu's body collapsed to the ground like a marionette with its strings violently severed. His hands trembled. Not from fear, but the horrible recognition blooming in his gut—that something was wrong. Something was missing.
Then he saw it.
Another body, lying next to Ling Yu. Unmoving. Familiar.
Not identical to the face he knew, but close—so close it was unmistakable. The bone structure, the shape of her hands, the faint shimmer beneath her skin like stardust not fully ripened in this world. For so long he thought he'd never see her true face. For so long he believed her body had been lost forever. But Ling Yu's vessel had begun taking her shape, layer by layer, like a mirror restoring what was always hidden beneath.
And now, here she was.
"Yinou…"
He stumbled forward. His knees buckled as he reached her, his breath caught between disbelief and grief. Jiu Tian knelt beside Ling Yu's body, holding her gently before his form flickered—dissolving into spirit, vanishing into the fading ether.
"No…" Su Ning gasped, his voice cracking. "Wait! Don't take her—don't leave me like this—!"
But it was too late. Only silence answered him.
His eyes dropped back to the figure crumpled before him. She was faceless—an empty canvas, but he knew. His soul recognized her.
"Yinou…" he whispered again, this time in reverence. He knelt, cradling her in shaking arms, trying to will her form to respond. Her body was cold. Her dress, once white and gilded with divine threads, was now caked in blood and soil. A ruin of what she once was.
"No," he said, teeth gritted. "Not like this."
He tore off his cloak and wrapped her gently, then summoned a clean robe of snow-white silk with golden threads, woven in fox fur. With painstaking tenderness, he dressed her as if preparing her for a royal celebration rather than a grave. He swept the snowflakes off her brow with the back of his trembling hand, and lifted his fan to shield her face from the falling snow.
Still, she did not stir.
He knelt there for what felt like hours. The others stood at a distance, too afraid to approach, too unsure of what to say. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
"Why…" Su Ning muttered, clutching her closer. "Why did you do this alone? Why didn't you let me carry some of the weight? I told you—we were supposed to do this together…"
Snow collected on his lashes. He hadn't realized he was crying until his vision blurred.
Then—he pressed his lips to hers. Desperate. Reverent. A kiss like a prayer, as if it could summon the soul back into her body. As if it could carve a path between the living and the dead.
But her body remained still.
He held her tighter. "Come back," he whispered, broken. "Come back, even if just in a dream."
And then, as though answering that plea, Su Su stepped forward. Her fingers glowing with faint soul-light.
"Let me… connect you," she said softly. "Maybe she's not gone. Not completely. Maybe… she's just waiting somewhere."
Su Ning's body slumped beside Yinou's as Su Su placed a hand over his forehead, weaving their souls together. And in an instant, he was gone.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing on a wooden boat adrift on a still lake of liquid sapphire. The air was warm. The sky blushed pink. Trees lined the water, their branches draping down like weeping silk, blossoms trembling in the breeze.
"Yinou?"
Laughter rang through the trees.
He looked up—and there she was.
Perched on a branch above him, her dress glowing with life, her eyes dancing with joy. She called down to him, "Took you long enough, Su Ning!"
He could barely breathe.
"Yinou…"
She jumped from the tree.
He caught her in his arms, and for a moment, all the pain faded.
They sat in the boat, her back against his chest, his arms around her waist. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he pressed his lips into her hair.
"I've always wanted to take you away from the chaos," he murmured.
"Then stay here," she whispered. "Promise me. Just for a while."
He smiled. "Forever, if I could."
She chuckled, and with a playful push of her feet, the boat rocked. Su Ning grabbed her waist, but she leapt up with a teasing shriek—and he caught her again. They fell in a heap, laughter echoing into the trees, blossoms raining down.
"You're such a dog fart," she teased.
"And proud," he replied. "Woof."
They lay there, tangled in petals, her head resting on his arm as he cupped her cheek.
"Promise me we'll meet again," she said, voice barely a breath.
"I swear," he whispered, brushing a kiss on her fingers, then her lips. "No matter how long it takes."
Then—silence. No flash, no tremor, no warning. Just absence.
The serpent's roar died mid-howl, like breath stolen from the wind itself. The altar, once convulsing with sacred energy, now stilled to a desolate hush. The ritual had ended. But at what cost?
Su Ning stood frozen as Ling Yu's body collapsed to the ground like a marionette with its strings violently severed. His hands trembled. Not from fear, but the horrible recognition blooming in his gut—that something was wrong. Something was missing.
Then he saw it.
Another body, lying next to Ling Yu. Unmoving. Familiar.
Not identical to the face he knew, but close—so close it was unmistakable. The bone structure, the shape of her hands, the faint shimmer beneath her skin like stardust not fully ripened in this world. For so long he thought he'd never see her true face. For so long he believed her body had been lost forever. But Ling Yu's vessel had begun taking her shape, layer by layer, like a mirror restoring what was always hidden beneath.
And now, here she was.
"Yinou…"
He stumbled forward. His knees buckled as he reached her, his breath caught between disbelief and grief. Jiu Tian knelt beside Ling Yu's body, holding her gently before his form flickered—dissolving into spirit, vanishing into the fading ether.
"No…" Su Ning gasped, his voice cracking. "Wait! Don't take her—don't leave me like this—!"
But it was too late. Only silence answered him.
His eyes dropped back to the figure crumpled before him. She was faceless—an empty canvas, but he knew. His soul recognized her.
"Yinou…" he whispered again, this time in reverence. He knelt, cradling her in shaking arms, trying to will her form to respond. Her body was cold. Her dress, once white and gilded with divine threads, was now caked in blood and soil. A ruin of what she once was.
"No," he said, teeth gritted. "Not like this."
He tore off his cloak and wrapped her gently, then summoned a clean robe of snow-white silk with golden threads, woven in fox fur. With painstaking tenderness, he dressed her as if preparing her for a royal celebration rather than a grave. He swept the snowflakes off her brow with the back of his trembling hand, and lifted his fan to shield her face from the falling snow.
Still, she did not stir.
He knelt there for what felt like hours. The others stood at a distance, too afraid to approach, too unsure of what to say. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
"Why…" Su Ning muttered, clutching her closer. "Why did you do this alone? Why didn't you let me carry some of the weight? I told you—we were supposed to do this together…"
Snow collected on his lashes. He hadn't realized he was crying until his vision blurred.
"I wasn't ready…" he whispered. "I still had things to tell you. I still—" He bit his lip until it bled. "I still wanted to ask if you remembered the dream you once told me about. The lake. The flowers. The peace. Did you dream of it even in the end?"
He looked at her again. The silence was unbearable.
Then—he pressed his lips to hers. Desperate. Reverent. A kiss like a prayer, as if it could summon the soul back into her body. As if it could carve a path between the living and the dead.
But her body remained still.
He held her tighter. "Come back," he whispered, broken. "Come back, even if just in a dream."
And then, as though answering that plea, Su Su stepped forward. Her fingers glowing with faint soul-light.
"Let me… connect you," she said softly. "Maybe she's not gone. Not completely. Maybe… she's just waiting somewhere."
Su Ning's body slumped beside Yinou's as Su Su placed a hand over his forehead, weaving their souls together. And in an instant, he was gone.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing on a wooden boat adrift on a still lake of liquid sapphire. The air was warm. The sky blushed pink. Trees lined the water, their branches draping down like weeping silk, blossoms trembling in the breeze.
"Yinou?"
Laughter rang through the trees.
He looked up—and there she was.
Perched on a branch above him, her dress glowing with life, her eyes dancing with joy. She called down to him, "Took you long enough, Su Ning!"
He could barely breathe.
"Yinou…"
She jumped from the tree.
He caught her in his arms, and for a moment, all the pain faded.
They sat in the boat, her back against his chest, his arms around her waist. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he pressed his lips into her hair.
"I've always wanted to take you away from the chaos," he murmured.
"Then stay here," she whispered. "Promise me. Just for a while."
He smiled. "Forever, if I could."
She chuckled, and with a playful push of her feet, the boat rocked. Su Ning grabbed her waist, but she leapt up with a teasing shriek—and he caught her again. They fell in a heap, laughter echoing into the trees, blossoms raining down.
"You're such a dog fart," she teased.
"And proud," he replied. "Woof."
They lay there, tangled in petals, her head resting on his arm as he cupped her cheek.
"Promise me we'll meet again," she said, voice barely a breath.
"I swear," he whispered, brushing a kiss on her fingers, then her lips. "No matter how long it takes."
The throne room reeked of incense and cold fear.
The grand doors burst open.
Snow clung to the boots of Su Ning and his companions as they entered — bloodstained, wind-scarred, yet alive. Behind them came Immortal Lan Hua, not proud as she once had been, but silent, her once-glimmering eyes now dulled and hollow. Susu's fingers trembled, soul-magic still flickering faintly as she guided the woman in.
"Present them," Emperor Wang Zhaoyan said coldly from the dais, guarded by elite soldiers. "For treason, deception, and the abominable act of breeding a demon-serpent — Su Ning and his faction are sentenced to death."
The court murmured. Dozens of nobles watched with baited breath.
Su Ning didn't bow.
Instead, he threw something across the marble floor — a serpent-scale, blackened and cracked with spiritual rot. Then a sealed scroll. And lastly… a bloodied golden sigil of the Bai Clan, once belonging to the late Bai Lin.
"These are the remnants of your sins," Su Ning said, his voice steady. "You accuse us of treason, yet it was you and Wang Long who sanctioned the creation of that abomination. You dug up forbidden texts. You twisted soul-beasts. You turned Bai Huiling's sacrifice into a mockery."
Wang Long scoffed from beside the throne, dressed in imperial crimson. "And yet it worked. You saw it. The beast could have ended our enemies."
"Ended us all, you mean," Li Yang said, stepping forward, sword unsheathed at his side. "You would've sacrificed every village to fuel its rage."
Zhaoyan stood, voice rising with false righteousness. "You speak in lies and fevered grief. You think yourself saviors?"
"I know we are," Susu cut in. "And Lan Hua will testify."
Lan Hua didn't speak.
She simply walked to the center of the room, where Bai Lin had once stood with her, hand in hand. The image made her tremble.
"I—" Her voice cracked. "They… begged me to look deeper. I didn't. I let the Emperor's words blind me. And now he's dead. Because I let monsters lead the way."
She turned to the Emperor. "And I curse your reign, Wang Zhaoyan. May history never remember you as anything more than a coward in a borrowed crown."
Gasps filled the court.
Zhaoyan's face twisted. "Arrest them all—!"
But the guards hesitated.
Because the people had already seen. In the streets. In the fields where the serpent raged. They knew who had stood between them and annihilation — and it wasn't the man on the throne.
From the back, one guard knelt. Then another. Then the captain of the watch. Swords were lowered. The court turned.
Su Ning walked forward — past Lan Hua, past the crumbling mask of power on Wang Zhaoyan's face — and stood at the foot of the throne.
"Dong Ying has bled enough," he said quietly. "Bai Lin is gone. His bloodline ended because of your greed. There is no one left to bear the Saintess' burden — so I will."
Wang Long stepped forward, eyes crazed. "You dare—!"
She struck.
Su Ning caught her blade mid-air, his palm bleeding as he forced it back — and Li Yang's sword was at her throat in an instant.
"I've had enough of your poison," Su Ning said. "You will be imprisoned. You will answer for Bai Huiling. For Bai Lin. For Yinou. For everyone who burned in your hunger for power."
Zhaoyan trembled. His once-proud robes were soaked with sweat and snowmelt, his fingers twitching near the blade at his hip.
"You will not hold this throne," he spat, voice shrill with desperation. "You're a soldier—a dog trained to obey, not a king! You were nothing before me. And that woman—Yinou—she was a curse. A plague on our house. Her bloodline of a demon was always poison!"
The hall fell into a hush. The accusation hung heavy, but not heavier than the fury that ignited in Su Ning's eyes.
He stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, like the calm before a storm. "Careful," Su Ning said, voice low, lethal. "Every word you speak of her carves your grave deeper."
Zhaoyan's face twisted. He lunged, unsheathing his sword with a scream—not of courage, but of spite. "She damned us all! That serpent—she was the mother of monsters!"
Su Ning moved.
There was no flash of brilliance, no grand display—just precision. The Emperor's blade struck air as Su Ning slipped past it and drove his own through the man's stomach—not deep enough to kill instantly. A slow wound.
Zhaoyan gasped, stumbling back, blood spilling like ink across the marble.
Su Ning did not stop. He followed the Emperor down to his knees, gaze unwavering.
"You speak of her like she was filth. But she bore the pain you caused. She died sealing the beast you created. She carried sins that weren't hers, while you cowered behind a throne built on lies."
The Emperor clutched at his wound, eyes wide. "She—she bewitched you…"
"No," Su Ning said, crouching down, his blade lifting Zhaoyan's chin. "She saved me. Over and over. From war, from vengeance, from becoming like you."
Zhaoyan whimpered, blood at his lips. "Mercy…"
"I am a Wang," Su Ning whispered. "Like her sister who died for this realm. But I will not rule to dominate. I will rule to atone."
Then, he twisted the blade.
It was slow. Deliberate. The Emperor's last breath left his lips in a wet, choking gasp.
Silence fell once more, but it was different this time. Not the silence of tyranny—but of release.
But in silence — as snow began to fall again, soft against the shattered glass of the hall's high windows.
Lan Hua collapsed to her knees.
Susu turned away, tears burning in her eyes.
Li Yang stood beside Su Ning without a word.
Outside, the people gathered — unsure, waiting.
And inside, Su Ning's hand trembled on the armrest.
Five years passed.
Su Ning did not remain a general. He rose, gathered his army, and brought down the corrupted Emperor who had caused it all. From Jiu Tian's last breath, he learned the truth—how Wang Long and the Emperor created the serpent from the soul of Bai Huiling's beloved. A creature meant to devour, to destroy, to be used.
He placed Li Yang on the throne, with Susu as her right woman . And then, he disappeared from politics.
Now, he lived quietly, in the snow-veiled remnants of Yinou's sister's estate, raising the child they had once protected—Mei, now Wang Yansheng.
Each day, he sat by Yinou's sleeping form. Preserved, peaceful.
"Dream a little longer," he would whisper, tucking fox fur around her shoulders. "I'll be here when you wake."