Chapter 88: Sacrifice
Bai Jingxue held Er Ya close, feeling the child trembling in her arms.
She didn’t think much of it, assuming Er Ya was simply frightened by the sudden chaos. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “Don’t be afraid.”
But Er Ya’s trembling didn’t cease. Her eyes were filled with not only fear, but also guilt and panic.
They had initially assumed this was simply a case of a powerful sect bullying a weaker one, but the glowing runes that began to appear on the walls and floor of the inn suggested something far more sinister.
Fang Xin, since embarking on the path of cultivation, had been a diligent student, her studies extending beyond combat training. She had devoured countless ancient texts. She recognized the shifting, colorful runes, her voice filled with a horrified realization. “It’s a Soul Refining Formation!”
Bai Jingxue, based on the formation’s name, understood its purpose. Seeing the fear and despair in the Fang sisters’ eyes, she knew they were in trouble.
Er Ya trembled even harder, tears welling up in her eyes.
Bai Jingxue, her own anxiety growing, gently wiped away Er Ya’s tears. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re here.”
Lü Qingyan, standing beside them, her smile unwavering, as if they weren’t facing imminent danger, added, “Yeah, we’re here for you.”
But behind her smile, she knew they were in serious trouble.
Bai Jingxue unleashed a burst of flames, trying to incinerate the runes, but the flames simply danced harmlessly above them, then vanished.
Her most powerful weapon was useless. Her heart sank.
She glanced at Lü Qingyan, their eyes meeting.
Bai Jingxue’s voice, calm and steady, echoed in her mind. “Can you still teleport?”
Lü Qingyan tried it, relieved to discover that it worked. She easily escaped the formation, then returned, intending to take Bai Jingxue and the others with her, but the moment her hand touched Bai Jingxue’s shoulder, her ability failed.
Seeing Lü Qingyan’s panic, Bai Jingxue understood.
She stared at Lü Qingyan, her voice calm. “If things get really bad, just leave,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
Lü Qingyan’s heart ached, her throat tightening.
It was always like this. Bai Jingxue would always choose self-sacrifice, putting the needs of others before her own. But that wasn’t what Lü Qingyan wanted.
But she couldn’t bring herself to be angry. She stared at Bai Jingxue, her voice trembling with a raw, unfiltered emotion. “Are you abandoning me again?” she asked.
Bai Jingxue’s heart twisted, and she turned away, unable to meet Lü Qingyan’s gaze.
Lü Qingyan, seeing her avoidance, wiped away her tears, her voice rising. “Don’t underestimate me!” she shouted. “I can sacrifice myself too! Do you think you’ll be happy if I die for you?”
“Why do you always leave me to suffer alone?”
“Is it because hurting yourself is easier than hurting others?”
Bai Jingxue couldn’t answer. Her spiritual energy was draining, her body weakening. She sighed, then, seeing that Lü Qingyan was about to speak, perhaps to avoid answering her questions, she leaned forward, her lips capturing Lü Qingyan’s.
The unexpected kiss silenced Lü Qingyan, her anger and sadness forgotten. Her eyes widened, her ears and tail perked up in surprise.
But the kiss was fleeting, a gentle brush of lips. Bai Jingxue turned away, her expression hidden, her voice calm. “I was wrong,” she said. “Consider this compensation.”
Lü Qingyan, however, noticed that Bai Jingxue’s tail was twitching. Her emotions weren’t as calm as her voice suggested.
Bai Jingxue, unaware that her true feelings had been exposed, suddenly realized that her past life was still influencing her actions.
She had always believed that her family was a burden to Lü Qingyan, a burden not only financially, but also emotionally.
She had felt insecure, her personality too quiet and introverted. She had believed that Lü Qingyan deserved someone more vibrant, someone who could bring joy to her life.
She had felt like a burden, her own awkwardness a constant source of frustration. She had often thought that Lü Qingyan would be better off without her.
So she had always chosen to leave, sacrificing her own happiness, believing it was the best solution.
But now, in this new life, she had the power to change things. She could fight for what she wanted.
Every formation had a focal point. She closed her eyes, then opened them, her vision enhanced, the world simplified, but the result was as she had expected.
This formation was different. It had multiple focal points, their locations constantly shifting. She tried to decipher their movements.
After observing them for a while, she realized they were moving along two intersecting circular paths. There were four focal points on the path closest to them, seven on the other.
She unleashed a burst of flames, targeting the nearest focal point. A sound like shattering glass echoed through the air.
But the destroyed focal point instantly regenerated. She realized she had to destroy them all simultaneously.
She calculated their trajectories, then, carrying Er Ya, she approached Lü Qingyan. Seeing the hope in Lü Qingyan’s eyes, she averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing.
But embarrassment was a trivial matter. Escaping this formation was their priority.
Before she could explain her plan, a voice, booming and authoritative, echoed from above, its power making their blood run cold.
Bai Jingxue quickly covered Er Ya’s ears, but it was too late. Blood trickled from the girl’s nose and mouth, staining Bai Jingxue’s white sleeve crimson.
Lü Qingyan’s face was pale, her body trembling. The weaker cultivators in the inn had already fainted.
“The Xuan Tian Sect has no desire for conflict,” the voice boomed. “Hand over the evil god, and we will spare your lives.”
Fang Xin, her voice filled with righteous indignation, retorted, “How can you, a leading sect of the cultivation world, accuse us without evidence? If you claim there’s an evil god among us, then identify them! Provide proof!”
The voice scoffed. “Ask the child in the cat demon’s arms,” it said. “She knows the truth.”
Er Ya’s face paled even further. She looked up at Bai Jingxue, her lips moving, but no sound emerged. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
She then shook her head vehemently. “It’s not me.”
Lü Qingyan, her anger boiling over, shouted, “You’re insane! She’s just a child! What do you expect her to say? That she’s an evil god?!”
The voice, laced with a cold fury, said, “You foolish dog demon.”
A bolt of lightning shot out, aimed at Lü Qingyan’s back.
Lü Qingyan’s fur bristled, and she instinctively teleported, narrowly avoiding the attack. The lightning struck the banister, splitting it in two, its surface charred.
Another bolt of lightning followed, and Lü Qingyan unleashed a burst of flames, intercepting it. The collision created a small explosion.
Fang Xin shielded Lü Qingyan and the others, while Fang Yue Lian protected the unconscious Zhu Er and the Imperial Advisor.
They were the only ones left in the inn. The Xuan Tian Sect had clearly planned this.
“You had a chance to survive,” the voice boomed, “but you chose to defy us. Then perish with the evil god!”
The runes on the walls and floor twisted, their movements serpentine, as they coalesced, forming weapons: swords, spears, axes, halberds.
Bai Jingxue, seeing the weapons descending, grabbed Lü Qingyan, her voice a urgent whisper. “I’ll tell you eleven locations,” she said. “Use your spatial ability to envelop my flames. Release them when I say ‘go.’”
Lü Qingyan’s fists clenched, her expression turning serious.
This plan was risky, but a wide-area attack wouldn’t work. They had to target the eleven focal points.
The weapons struck, and Bai Jingxue unleashed a torrent of flames. Lü Qingyan, her spatial abilities activated, split the flames into eleven separate streams, guiding them towards the focal points.
The weapons, their descent halted, began to crack and shatter, their fragments dissolving into dust.
The runes dimmed, their movements ceasing, then vanished.
Bai Jingxue, feeling her spiritual energy returning, her heart soaring, realized they had broken the formation.
It had all happened so fast that Fang Xin and the others were still stunned.
This was their chance to escape. “Qingyan, let’s go!” she shouted.
Lü Qingyan, reacting instantly, her teleportation ability no longer restricted, activated it. They vanished from the inn.
But their relief was short-lived. The space around them constricted, their escape blocked.
A hand tore through the fabric of reality, pinning them in place.
Fang Xin and the others tried to break free, but their bodies wouldn’t obey. They looked up to see their captor, and Fang Xin’s voice was filled with a horrified realization. “Ancestor Xuan Tian!”
Why was the founder of the Xuan Tian Sect here? He was at the Integration stage, a level far beyond their capabilities. They were doomed.
Ancestor Xuan Tian glanced at Er Ya, his gaze wary, then his attention shifted to Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan.
He tried to divine their fates, but it was impossible. He couldn’t see their paths.
His heart pounded. There were only two possibilities: they were either destiny itself, or they were unbound by the laws of this world.
He had set up the formation to suppress Er Ya’s divine power. If she awakened, the most powerful cultivators in the world would be targeted and eliminated.
The cultivation world would be devastated.
He pondered this, then noticed that Er Ya’s gaze, fixed on Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, was filled with concern.
The god, before fully awakening, still retained a shred of humanity. An idea formed in Xuan Tian’s mind.
“Evil god,” he said, his voice booming, “you have two choices. Come with me willingly, or I will kill them all.”
Bai Jingxue held Er Ya close, while Lü Qingyan, struggling against the invisible restraints, reached out to them.
Er Ya, seeing their struggle, her heart aching, though she still refused to acknowledge her identity as an evil god, looked up, her voice trembling. “I’ll go with you,” she said.
She wriggled out of Bai Jingxue’s arms, forcing a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I was happy here.”
The pressure vanished, and Xuan Tian and Er Ya disappeared.
Bai Jingxue, her fists clenched, her heart filled with a helpless rage, pounded the ground.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Lü Qingyan smiling at her. Their eyes met, and no words were needed. They understood each other.
Bai Jingxue, glancing at Fang Xin and Fang Yue Lian, their expressions filled with concern, forced a smile. “Go back to the Ejian Sect, Senior Sisters,” she said. “We have some unfinished business to attend to.”
Fang Xin, understanding their intentions, wanted to follow, but Fang Yue Lian held her back.
Fang Xin, her anger subsiding, fell silent.
Bai Jingxue, after asking for the location of the Xuan Tian Sect, turned to leave. She had a feeling this might be their last meeting. She stopped, her gaze meeting Fang Yue Lian’s. “You’re not a burden,” she said, her voice soft. “Don’t be afraid to express your happiness. And don’t shoulder everything alone.”
She then turned to Fang Xin, her voice a warning. “Don’t accept any missions involving demon cultivators.”
She then turned and left, Lü Qingyan by her side.
They arrived at the Xuan Tian Sect, Bai Jingxue effortlessly dismantling the outer layers of barriers. Lü Qingyan, her sense of smell acute, quickly led her to Er Ya’s prison.
It wasn’t an ordinary cell. It was a large, sealed chamber, its only opening a small, square window, barely large enough to accommodate an adult’s face. A faint layer of spiritual energy covered the window.
For some reason, there were no guards. This was convenient.
Er Ya sat huddled in a corner, her knees drawn to her chest, her head bowed.
“Er Ya!” Bai Jingxue called out, her voice a low whisper.
Er Ya looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief. She was both happy and terrified. “Why are you here?” she cried. “It’s dangerous!”
They knew it was dangerous, but they had decided to try anyway. And it seemed surprisingly easy.
Lü Qingyan, seeing Er Ya’s confusion, pointed at Bai Jingxue, chuckling. “Even when she was weak, she loved meddling,” she said. “And she always tried to hide it. Now that she’s powerful, she’s even more…”
Seeing the dangerous glint in Bai Jingxue’s eyes, she quickly changed the subject. “Besides, you still owe me a story,” she said, her voice cheerful. “Don’t be a bad girl and break your promise.”
Bai Jingxue interrupted them. “Quiet,” she said. “Let me take a look at this.”
She then carefully examined the chamber, trying to find a way to open it.
Er Ya, watching them, her heart aching, felt a surge of guilt.
She had always suspected there was something wrong with her. Whenever she was sold to a new owner, regardless of their initial personality, they would eventually become cruel and malicious.
They would beat her, insult her, and she would cower in fear, her fear transforming into hatred. She would curse them.
And her curses would always come true. Seas of flowers would engulf those she hated.
But she knew it was wrong. The flowers didn’t discriminate. Innocent people were also consumed.
She had become afraid, her dreams haunted by the faces of those who had died, their voices accusing. She would wake up, only to be pulled back into another nightmare.
A goddess, tall and imposing, her hair adorned with flowers, her face obscured, her voice echoing in Er Ya’s ears, had appeared in her dreams.
The goddess had told her that destruction was her duty, that destruction led to rebirth.
She had shaken her head, her voice filled with a terrified denial. She didn’t want this.
“You are me, and I am you.”
“I’m not!” she had screamed.
She had convinced herself that she was just an ordinary girl.
But the truth couldn’t be denied. That was why she had been so terrified when Xuan Tian had appeared, her memories returning.
She smiled, her gaze fixed on Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, her voice calm, as if she had finally accepted her fate. “You can’t open it,” she said. “Give up. He was right. I am an evil god. I’m just not fully grown yet.”
Bai Jingxue, assuming she had been brainwashed, was about to argue, but Er Ya opened her palm, revealing two seeds.
She picked up a sharp piece of stone, slicing her palm open. The seeds, nourished by her blood, sprouted, two blue flowers blooming in her hand, then instantly withering.
Bai Jingxue stared at her, her eyes widening. Er Ya possessed no spiritual energy. And that fleeting floral scent was familiar.
The wound on Er Ya’s palm had already healed. “The people at the Xuan Tian Sect told me a lot of things,” she said, her voice filled with a weary resignation. “They said this happened in my past life. Anyone who came into contact with me, their negative emotions would be amplified, fueling my divine power. And the stronger my power became, the wider its influence spread. That’s how I destroyed the cultivation world.”
She looked up at Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan, seeing the shock in their eyes, her own eyes stinging with unshed tears. She quickly looked away.
“You’re good people,” she said. “You shouldn’t be corrupted by me.”
Lü Qingyan, her voice filled with a passionate anger, said, “It’s not your fault!”
Bai Jingxue nodded in agreement. But was there really no solution?
Er Ya’s voice, soft and pleading, reached their ears. “I’ve accepted my fate,” she said. “But before it’s too late, will you tell me your stories?”
She was still huddled in the corner, her eyes red-rimmed, a sad smile curving her lips.
Lü Qingyan readily agreed, then she turned to Bai Jingxue, waiting for her consent.
Lü Qingyan, her voice animated, her gestures dramatic, painted a vivid picture of a world Er Ya had never known, a world where humans could fly without spiritual energy.
Er Ya listened intently, her heart filled with a longing she had never experienced before. Her world was a harsh and unforgiving place. She had suffered, her experiences teaching her that in the eyes of her owners, she was nothing but an animal.
She longed for peace, for a chance to experience a different kind of life.
Lü Qingyan then told her about Luo Nianshang and the others, explaining how they had arrived in this realm.
Er Ya listened carefully, her mind absorbing every detail.
“So you came here from a secret realm by the sea?” she asked.
Bai Jingxue nodded.
The details were mundane, but Er Ya listened intently, committing them to memory.
She knew the people from the Xuan Tian Sect would be arriving soon. “You have to leave,” she urged.
Seeing their hesitation, she smiled. “Only a god can kill a god,” she said. “This is the fate I’ve chosen.”
“I won’t die,” she continued. “I’ll simply be reincarnated. But you shouldn’t sacrifice yourselves for me.”
She stared at them, her gaze intense. “Would you be willing to let each other die?”
Bai Jingxue glanced at Lü Qingyan, who was also staring at her.
She turned away, her heart aching. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Lü Qingyan. They hadn’t come here to die. They had simply wanted to help. They would try, and if they failed, they would leave.
She felt a surge of guilt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Er Ya smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for,” she said. “I don’t deserve to be saved. But trust me, we might meet again someday.”
Bai Jingxue’s heart was heavy. “We will,” she said, her voice firm, as if she were reassuring herself. “I’ll wait for you, a thousand years from now.”
Lü Qingyan also felt a pang of sadness, but Er Ya’s constitution was too dangerous. Saving her would harm countless others.
But this was just the present. Perhaps the future would be different. There had been no mention of a flower-related disaster in the future she knew.
She sniffed back tears, then smiled brightly. “See you in a thousand years!”
They had little time left. Lü Qingyan smelled the scent of the powerful cultivator who had taken Er Ya away. Her face paled, and she grabbed Bai Jingxue’s hand, teleporting them away.
Ancestor Xuan Tian approached the cell, his gaze fixed on Er Ya. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice deep and resonant.
He hadn’t expected the second generation evil god to be so selfless, so willing to sacrifice her own power for the sake of others.
Er Ya stared at him, her voice calm. “What about you?” she asked. “You’re sacrificing your entire sect, your own life.”
Xuan Tian was silent for a moment, then he said, “It’s worth it.”
Lü Qingyan pushed her spatial abilities to their limit, teleporting them as far away as possible. They didn’t stop until they could no longer sense any danger.
They hadn’t gone far. The Xuan Tian Sect hadn’t pursued them.
A bolt of lightning split the dark sky, followed by a barrage of lightning strikes, their targets the Xuan Tian Sect’s buildings.
Bai Jingxue watched in horror as a golden formation enveloped the sect, its power amplified by the lightning, destroying everything within its reach.
She didn’t know how long it lasted.
The mountain where the Xuan Tian Sect had stood was reduced to rubble, the lightning and the formation vanishing, replaced by a sea of flowers.
A shimmering sphere, spinning slowly, hovered above the flowers, then expanded, engulfing Bai Jingxue and Lü Qingyan.
She felt like she was floating in water, a voice echoing in her ears. “This is a gift,” it said.
She opened her eyes to find herself submerged in water, her hand grasping something. She turned to see Lü Qingyan’s hand in hers.
They were suddenly lifted from the water, deposited on a beach.
Ying’s voice, filled with disbelief, reached their ears. “What happened to you two?!” she exclaimed. “You’re at the Nascent Soul stage?!”
Bai Jingxue finally understood. They were back. She clenched her fist, feeling the surge of power within her.
So that was the gift.
Lü Qingyan shook her head, then squeezed the water from her tail.
Bai Jingxue, mimicking her, squeezed the water from her own tail, then realized it was a pointless gesture. She could simply use a spell.
She stood up, eager to know how much time had passed.
Before she could ask, a white fox leaped onto Ying’s shoulder.
Ying, cradling the fox in her arms, introduced it. “This is You Mei, my new friend,” she said. “Isn’t she cute?”
She was cute, but Ying was a furry enthusiast.
Lü Qingyan, however, wasn’t happy. She suddenly remembered that it might have been an illusion, that their promise to meet in a thousand years might have been a lie.
She was about to voice her concerns when Bai Jingxue settled beside her. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.
Lü Qingyan, her ears drooping, her tail wagging slowly, said, “That illusion. Our promise to meet in a thousand years… it was fake.”
Bai Jingxue stared at the ocean, the wind whipping her hair around her face. “Perhaps not,” she said, her voice soft.
She turned to Lü Qingyan, her eyes filled with a gentle warmth. “Do you trust me?”
Lü Qingyan’s ears perked up. “Really?” she asked, her voice filled with hope. “Of course I trust you!”
Bai Jingxue nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon, her voice distant. “I don’t think it was an illusion.”
Leave a Reply to Jeji Cancel reply