Faced with this young woman who had sacrificed herself and the unborn child in her womb, Chu'he couldn’t bring herself to reveal the cruel truth.
If she learned that the man she loved had still died—that a puppet had crawled out of the Gu Pool, taken Chi Yan’s identity, and slaughtered countless people over the past century—her sacrifice would only be overshadowed by an even heavier layer of tragedy.
Under the hopeful gaze of the woman, Chu'he steeled herself and spun a lie.
"He unified the Witchcraft and Gu Sorcery Sects, ended the internal strife in Miaojiang, and became the first leader of the Witchcraft and Gu Sorcery Sect. Miaojiang was freed from the scourge of gu insects and bloodshed. Trade flourished between Miaojiang and the Central Plains, and everyone lived in peace and prosperity—right up to this day."
Chu'he paused slightly, then smiled. "Everyone lived a good life. Only… only he spent his whole life missing you, never forgetting you."
The woman listened intently, her eyes bright with joy. But when Chu'he mentioned Chi Yan, a trace of sorrow and guilt flickered in her gaze. "I abandoned him. Doesn’t he hate me?"
Chu'he shook her head. "Of course he didn’t hate you. Everyone in Miaojiang and the Central Plains knows that the leader of the Witchcraft and Gu Sorcery Sect a century ago spent his entire life longing for you."
"So… it’s already been a hundred years?" Her eyes shimmered faintly as she asked her final question. "Chi Yan… did he pass away peacefully in the end?"
Chu'he’s conscience ached unbearably, but she had no choice but to press on. "Yes. He lived a full hundred years!"
"That’s good… that’s good."
Her tense body relaxed as she let out a soft sigh.
Chu'he clenched the hem of her robe, her heart clawed by an unbearable restlessness.
A ginkgo leaf fluttered past Chu'he on the wind, then landed and dissolved into golden motes of light, vanishing without a trace.
Chu'he froze, then looked up sharply, her pupils constricting. "What’s happening to you?!"
The woman in yellow stood quietly beneath the ginkgo tree. The breeze lifted the hem of her skirt, making it dance alongside the falling leaves. Yet she only smiled.
"It’s time for me to leave."
Her figure began to glow faintly, as if bathed in dawn’s light or steeped in autumn’s hues. Her fingertips turned translucent first, then her yellow robes dispersed like mist, dissolving into countless tiny golden sparks that swayed in the wind.
She blinked, her smile still lively. "No—to be precise, I left long ago."
A century earlier, though the child in her womb had only been two or three months old, it was still Chi Yan’s flesh and blood. In some way, it had been enough to pacify the restless gu insects.
And so, she and her unborn child had vanished without a trace—not even a scrap of flesh remained.
No matter how powerful Miaojiang’s witchcraft and gu sorcery were, they could never bring back the dead.
The woman before Chu'he now was nothing more than an existence condensed from memories—gathered through years of bloody slaughter by someone clinging to obsession.
Chu'he’s throat tightened. "You must know… if you were to… if you—"
She laughed softly. "I would love to see the world outside again. But in this world, there’s no one left I care about. And you—you still have so many people waiting for you."
From the very beginning, she had never intended to seize Chu'he’s consciousness.
Her face remained gentle as she gradually merged with the ginkgo tree behind her. Among the shadows of the branches, the leaves seemed to respond to her departure, transforming into golden radiance that intertwined with her fading form.
"Thank you, Chu'he." Her eyes glistened as she smiled. "Your story gave my dream a beautiful ending."
Chu'he was taken aback. "You know my name?"
"I heard someone outside calling for you. The voice was young—your sweetheart, isn’t it?"
"Ninth!" Chu'he sprang to her feet, scanning her surroundings. There was only endless darkness, no path forward.
But specks of golden light gathered, forming a luminous trail that pointed the way.
When Chu'he turned back, the woman’s figure had already turned translucent in her darkening vision.
Yet the woman showed no fear of fading away. She merely tilted her head slightly and smiled. "Go on."
Chu'he took a step, then hesitated. "I still don’t know your name."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
The next moment, her entire body dissolved into a shower of golden motes, indistinguishable from the glowing light. They swirled among the ginkgo branches before vanishing entirely in a rain of golden radiance.
Only emptiness remained, along with a faint, lingering fragrance in the air—as if she had never left, yet was already gone.
As Chu'he recalled her words—"a beautiful ending"—a strange feeling stirred within her.
Had she known all along that everything Chu'he said was a lie?
The dark space around her cracked like a spider’s web. Chu'he couldn’t dwell on it any longer. The outside world held too many ties she couldn’t abandon—she couldn’t afford to die here.
With resolve hardening her expression, Chu'he stepped onto the path of light.
"Don’t you understand yet, Chi Yan? The person you love is already gone."
"Shut up!"
Chi Yan’s body plummeted from the air and crashed onto the cold ground. He coughed up another mouthful of blood.
Now covered in wounds, his white hair stained with filth, his pale face splattered with blood, and countless bones shattered throughout his body, he was barely clinging to life.
Both he and Chi Yan had emerged from the Gu Pool—the stronger one grew, the weaker the other became. If not for Fang Songhe’s sword strike earlier, he would have died long ago.
As his broken bones struggled to mend, Chi Yan’s crimson eyes fixed on Ninth approaching the altar. His twisted, mangled hand stretched out desperately. "Stop! Stop!"
But the young man had already reached the altar. His bloodied hand lunged for the purple crystal—only for it to shatter into dust the moment before he touched it, its violet mist fully drained away.
His hand froze midair.
"Hahaha… I’ve won. In the end, I’ve won!" Chi Yan leaned against the stone wall, forcing his ruined body to stand. His burning red gaze locked onto Ninth like a predator’s.
"The ritual is complete. She has returned. Chi Yan, your Chu'he is gone. Now, she belongs to me."
As if to confirm his words, the girl on the stone platform opened her eyes—empty, pitch-black voids staring into nothingness.
"Ah’he… Ah’he…" Ninth’s voice trembled as he slowly knelt beside the altar, like a candle flame flickering in the wind. Despair and pleading filled his eyes as he stared at his partner—her body awake, but her soul still lost.
