Chapter 72
The taste of blood was sharp on Xinyu's tongue. His chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, each breath like dragging air through a throat lined with blades. Hua Mo's hand was still at his mark, mercilessly pulling at the thread of his life force. His vision wavered, the world bending at the edges, colors bleeding into one another.
His fingers twitched once, twice. The weight of his own arm felt like lifting a mountain, but still—he raised it. Slow as winter ice breaking, trembling as though the wind might snap him in half. His reddened eyes locked on the object ahead.
The box.
It was as though it felt his gaze. The air around it shivered, a faint hum spilling from within. The moment his fingertip pointed toward it, the lid trembled. Then—
Click.
The seal burst open.
Hua Mo's pupils shrank. But instead of stopping, he only tightened his hold, drinking deeper from Xinyu's dwindling energy.
Far away in the chaos, Mochen's blade clashed with Chi Ruyan's sword again and again, sparks flying with each meeting of steel. At last, with a twist of his wrist, Mochen disarmed her and sent her reeling back. He did not pause—his figure blurred forward, toward where Xinyu was trapped.
Then the ground shuddered.
The rumble began low, like the breath of something ancient stirring beneath the earth, then swelled into a quake that rattled bone and stone alike. Dust rained from above, and cracks raced through the ground.
Hua Mo stood unshaken, unmoving. He flung Xinyu down as though discarding a broken doll, eyes snapping toward the box now flooding the cave with blinding light.
Xinyu did not hit the ground.
Instead, he fell into a familiar embrace—warm even through the cold sweat soaking his robes. Hua Ling's arms were tight, almost crushing, his breath brushing Xinyu's ear as he whispered his name once.
"Xinyu."
The word trembled, as though speaking it would keep him anchored here. Again, softer, "Xinyu."
He shook him lightly, desperate to pull him back to consciousness. Xinyu's mind was hazy, adrift, but his fingers found Hua Ling's robes and clenched weakly.
Hua Ling's heart jolted. He had almost—no, he didn't dare think it. His breathing was uneven, chest tight with fear he had never allowed himself to feel before.
A roar cut through the moment.
Zhou Yuanzhen's sword flashed as he struck at Hua Mo, drawing the demon monarch away. The clash was a storm given form—lightning meeting fire, each strike shaking the air.
Above them, the box hung suspended in midair, turning slowly like an ancient star.
"Hua Mo!" Zhou Yuanzhen's voice was as sharp as his blade. "Stop this—you'll destroy everything around you!"
Hua Mo laughed, a sound like stone breaking. "Destroy? I have lived for this moment, waited years for this! Now it's here, within reach—why should I stop?"
"You are blinded by greed! Let the boy go!"
"Let him go?" Hua Mo's smile was all teeth. "In your dreams, Yuanzhen."
His next blow sent Zhou Yuanzhen crashing to the ground. The air itself seemed to twist under the force of his power. No one could match him—not here, not now.
He turned toward Hua Ling, whose grip on Xinyu only tightened.
"No," Hua Ling said, voice low but steady, shaking his head as if to deny reality itself.
Hua Mo's strike came without warning. The impact hurled both of them toward the cliff's edge. Snow and stone crumbled away beneath their feet.
In that instant, Xinyu's gaze sharpened. He pushed Hua Ling back, stepping forward despite his trembling legs. His finger moved in a quick, practiced gesture toward the hovering box.
The artifact pulsed.
Hua Mo's eyes darted between the two, suspicion rising. Was the boy trying to destroy it? With a snarl, he lunged for the box, snatching it to his chest like a child clutching a treasure.
Too late.
Xinyu's hands danced in the air, weaving invisible threads. The box flared brighter, the runes etched into its surface igniting with a deadly glow.
The pull began—quiet at first, then ravenous. Hua Mo's qi poured into it, siphoned away faster than he could resist.
His knees buckled.
"What… have you done—"
Xinyu's lips curved into a blood-streaked smile. "Go to hell."
The box erupted in light. Hua Mo's scream was swallowed in the detonation, his form scattering like ash caught in a storm.
Hua Ling's eyes widened, breath stolen from him—not by the shockwave, but by the sight of his father vanishing into nothing.
Xinyu swayed where he stood, exhaustion hollowing him out from the inside. Blood stained the corner of his mouth, hair disheveled, robes in tatters. Still, he remained upright.
Hua Ling's limbs felt leaden. His power was gone, body heavy and weak, and yet he could not look away from Xinyu. He wanted—needed—to go to him.
But before he could move, something unseen struck.
It came from nowhere and everywhere—a force that seized Xinyu and flung him backward. His heels skidded on loose stone. Then there was nothing under his feet.
The cliff.
Hua Ling's head snapped up. Their eyes met—black on black.
For the briefest breath, the chaos around them fell away. Xinyu's gaze was soft, unbearably tender, carrying something that struck deeper than pain.
Then he was falling.
Hua Ling's mind went blank, exploding with white noise. His throat tore with a single cry.
"Xinyuuuuuuuuuu—!"
The name echoed off the mountains, lost in the wind.
Lu Rourou crumpled to the ground, sobs shaking her frame. Zhou Yuanzhen's face was drawn and ashen, his hand trembling on the hilt of his sword. Lingque's eyes burned, wet with unshed tears.
Mochen arrived a heartbeat too late. His gaze searched, desperate, and found only emptiness beyond the cliff. His breath caught, disbelief crashing into him like a wave. He could not—would not—accept what he saw.
Yan Zheng and Shen Yao stood frozen, the world a hollow shell around them.
Hua Ling did not move. Could not.
He sat where he was, staring into the endless depths below, the wind cold against his tear-wet cheeks. The cliff's edge stretched before him like the mouth of a beast that had devoured the only light he had left.
And in the hollow of his chest, something broke.