Though her mood was far from good—miserable, even—Clo suppressed her negative emotions and focused on the lunch before her. She placed the wrapped dumplings into a steamer; she chose not to attempt any stir-fried dishes in her current state, as she always struggled to control the heat.
Removing her apron, she walked slowly back to the bedroom. Li Yue was leaning against the headboard. Her somewhat cloudy eyes shifted as she watched Clo enter, seemingly regaining a tiny spark of spirit.
Clo leaned her head against Li Yue’s shoulder, listening to her faint breathing. She maintained her usual silence, sensing the chaos within the girl’s consciousness. She wanted to do something, yet there was nothing she could do. She felt utterly powerless.
She buried her face in Li Yue’s chest and held her, just as she used to hold soft plush dolls.
“Clo...” she heard Li Yue slowly call her name. Clo looked up and saw Li Yue’s expression tinged with pain. Aside from feeling sorrow, Clo was helpless. “I... it hurts...”
“Ugh...” Li Yue clutched her head with one hand. A flicker of ferocity and agony appeared in her cloudy eyes, and her body began to tremble as if she were fighting an internal battle. “Ah...”
“It’s alright... it’s alright...” Clo hugged the trembling Li Yue. Only in moments like these could she feel the unrest within the girl—the intense desires and emotions that Li Yue had always resisted. Now, those very things had turned into demons that tormented her constantly, threatening to drag her into a fallen abyss worse than death.
Li Yue’s body bore no injuries, yet her extremely weakened spirit made it nearly impossible for her to control her own frame. In the early days, she could only perceive her surroundings through faint sensations and unfocused eyes. She could only perform simple thoughts; the moment she touched a past memory, intense negative emotions and a killing intent would sweep over her, forcing her to exhaust every bit of strength to suppress them.
Coupled with extreme mental cold and pain, she almost wanted to give up the so-called resistance.
Now, all she could do was lean against the bed. She could hardly recall her past. Clo told her this was the greatest price she had ever paid, but she couldn’t even remember what that price was. She had almost forgotten who she used to be—though, fortunately, she still remembered Clo.
“Don’t think about those things... I will find a way... to bring you back to the time before you had to endure any of this...” Clo felt Li Yue’s tremors slowly subside. She gently loosened her grip and looked at Li Yue’s still-cloudy eyes. Biting her lip, she slowly placed her hand over Li Yue’s heart.
She closed her eyes and focused her spirit, gradually reaching out to sense the chaotic world in which Li Yue was trapped.
It was a world of blood. Scarlet rain dripped from the sky like tears. Countless remains and skeletons piled high upon the land where she stood. She saw no buildings, no soil, and no vegetation—only shattered bones, exposed organs, severed muscle fibers, and even brain tissue like soft curd.
“This is...” Clo was deeply shaken by the scene. She wanted to push further to investigate, but her spirit was already under immense strain, and a wave of extreme nausea hit her. “No... I can’t... stop here...”
In a daze, her consciousness snapped back to reality. Her body was pushed back slightly by Li Yue’s forceful shove, and her hand was knocked away from Li Yue’s chest. A surge of phantom pain throbbed in her head. The images from that split second continued to stimulate her mind, but a moment later, she could no longer recall the scene. She only vaguely remembered that it was something indescribable.
“Dangerous...” Li Yue panted softly. She looked at Clo, her eyes appearing slightly clearer. “I... I’m fine...”
“A Yue...” Clo gently took Li Yue’s hand and bit her lip again. “A Yue, can you tell me... your full name?”
“...” Li Yue opened her mouth, looking somewhat lost. “I... Me?”
“Ugh...” She clutched her head as a phantom pain several times stronger than what Clo had felt suddenly surged forth.
“Don’t think about it anymore... A Yue... go back to sleep for a while.” Clo soothed her, her brow furrowed as she suppressed her own grief. “You can’t even remember yourself... so why... why do you insist on remembering me?”
“The Royal Court...” Clo whispered the name. “I never expected that I would be... preparing to set out for that place again.”
She watched Li Yue fall back into a deep slumber. She remained silent for a long time. Today’s lunch was destined to be eaten alone.
...
Inside a dark red hall, an old man with entirely white hair slowly rose from his throne. He held a longsword, using the scabbard to brace himself against the floor as he pushed himself up. He looked to be in his twilight years, his strength failing him.
“Your Majesty, may you be well today. May the Divine Lord’s grace be with you.”
“Get straight to the point, Lord Alaric.” The elderly King seemed weary of these tedious daily rituals. His blood-red eyes were already somewhat clouded.
“Sire, I have brought the current battle reports from the Western Continent, though the results... seem a bit strange...” Lord Alaric appeared uncertain. He pursed his pale lips, seemingly weighing his next words. “The speed at which those magic beasts collapsed was far faster than we anticipated.”
“I see.” The elderly King listened to the report without a hint of surprise. “Regarding Silas’s death after his ascension... have those people discussed a conclusion yet?”
“We suspect that he failed to withstand the backlash of the price, and so...”
“But on that day, I felt the aura of the Divine Lord.” The King interrupted him directly, his gaze filled with a touch of disdain.
“Perhaps the death of a deity drew the Divine Lord’s attention.”
“Is that so?” The King snorted coldly. “The Divine Lord.”
He chewed on the words. The more he repeated them, the more ridiculous they felt.
“I wonder which foreign god those praying monks are actually treating as their Divine Lord?”
Alaric did not respond. He glanced at the pitch-black suits of armor lining both sides of the hall. These were the King’s personal guards, loyal death-soldiers. They stood perfectly still, looking as if they were already dead.
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