AUOF - 107

Puppets do not feel pain.

But when Ji Hengyu’s hands gripped that heart, pulling it out with brute force, the tearing sensation brought moisture to his eyes.

Perhaps sensing resistance, the heart began to fight back with its own force.

Ji Xun couldn’t help but glance toward Sang Li again.

To be honest, he didn’t understand human emotions. To comprehend them, he had once gone to the mortal realm—to watch lovers separated by fate and those who struggled to find happiness despite their indifference.

Love, in the end, was nothing but regret.

Ji Xun closed his eyes briefly. His long hair veiled his profile as he continued to resist. Yet the tearing sensation intensified, and a silvery glow—emanating from the heart—illuminated the scene.

Ji Wu’s temple throbbed violently. “Quickly, go stop Master! He can’t kill Ji Xun!”

If Ji Xun died, even if he were remade into another body, he would no longer be the same Ji Xun.

Ji Wu shouted urgently at Sang Li, who still stood frozen: “Don’t just stand there! Go now! Even if you don’t know anything, Ji Xun has done so much for you. No matter what, you mustn’t let Master kill him!”

Ji Wu knew all too well how unbearable extinction felt.

He and Ji Xun had coexisted in this world for a thousand years. Originally, they were mere puppets without thought or feeling. But now, Ji Xun had memories and emotions. How could he stand idly by while his brother was cruelly killed by their master?

Couldn’t they wait until after they were calm to discuss things properly?

Sang Li snapped out of her daze and swung her feathered ribbon, wrapping it around Ji Hengyu’s wrist.

The ribbon contained one of his protective scales, and perhaps the familiar scent made him withdraw his arm immediately.

Seizing the opportunity, Sang Li ran forward to block the two, while Ji Wu supported the faltering Ji Xun.

Ji Hengyu was still not lucid.

His silver hair whipped wildly, and his scarlet eyes startled Sang Li.

Despite her fear, she refused to step aside.

“Ji Hengyu, wake up.”

She realized it must be the karmic hindrance acting up. Her voice trembled as she desperately tried to bring him back to his senses.

Ji Hengyu’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to identify her.

Ji Xun clutched his burning chest, his gaze falling deeply on Sang Li as he struggled to speak: “You… you move aside. He’ll hurt you.”

“You?”

Sang Li stared at him in astonishment.

Before she could fully process his words, a cold wind swept past, and she heard Ji Wu shout, “Be careful!” In the next moment, Ji Wu grabbed her waist, pulling her and Ji Xun away from the sword’s path, leaping onto a tree for safety.

Looking down at the bottomless crack in the ground, Sang Li’s cold sweat soaked through her clothes.

Ji Wu felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Xun, let’s go back. Give the heart back to Master.”

Ji Xun clutched his chest tightly, refusing to budge. “If he wants it, he can come take it himself.”

Ji Wu scolded him in frustration: “You stubborn mule!”

Sang Li looked over. “What heart?” By now, she should have pieced together the situation, but she still couldn’t believe it. “You mean… Ji Hengyu’s heart?”

Ji Xun remained silent, and Ji Wu followed suit.

She stared blankly in the direction of Ji Hengyu. The man seemed caught between calmness and madness. At times, he stood motionless; at others, he slashed wildly with his sword. Even during his most intense karmic episodes, he had never appeared so feral, devoid of any humanity.

Sang Li clenched her jaw and suddenly understood.

“The one who saved me in the illusion, who cared for my clan—it was you, not Ji Hengyu.”

Ji Xun silently confirmed.

The atmosphere grew strange.

Ji Wu sensed trouble and hurriedly explained: “Little fox, don’t misunderstand. Master couldn’t bear the backlash of the entwining silkworm curse, so… this was the only way.”

Even his explanation sounded weak.

Sang Li waved her hand, unwilling to hear more. She already understood.

What she didn’t understand was why Ji Hengyu had chosen to deceive her this way. If he couldn’t accept it from the start, he could have simply said so. Why put her in the middle, even letting a puppet deal with her?

Eight years—from killing each other to knowing each other—he had never confided in her, instead forcing her to uncover the truth in such an unbearable situation.

Her sadness outweighed her anger. Suppressing the rising bitterness in her chest, she forced a smile at Ji Wu. “You take Ji Xun and go first. I’ll figure out a way to calm him down.”

Ji Xun frowned and grabbed her hand.

The worry in his brows was unmistakable. The touch of his fingertips made her body stiffen and feel unnatural.

She quietly pulled her hand back. “Ji Xun, don’t worry. I won’t let Ji Hengyu kill you.” After a pause, she added, “Thank you for saving me in the illusion, and… thank you for the courtyard. I really like it.”

“I really like it.”

But the more polite she sounded, the more it pained him.

Finally, he hummed softly, his features softening: “As long as you like it, I’m happy.”

Sang Li froze, suddenly realizing he was different from a puppet.

His smile carried warmth—not a puppet’s, but more like… a person’s.

A person.

Sang Li was suddenly shocked, then immediately understood. That heart gave him emotions—or perhaps… it was Ji Hengyu’s unintentional act that turned a puppet into a flesh-and-blood human.

Thinking of Ji Hengyu wanting to kill him, her feelings became even more complicated.

Watching Ji Wu drag Ji Xun away, Sang Li flew forward. As Ji Hengyu sensed their presence and prepared to chase, she ruthlessly pierced his thigh with her feathered ribbon.

Ji Hengyu let out a muffled groan, his body swaying unsteadily but not quite falling.

The pain brought him a brief moment of clarity. His hollow crimson eyes reflected her figure.

That red silhouette moved amidst ghosts and demons. Ji Hengyu shook his head violently. “Sang… Sang, come here, come to me. They’ll hurt you.”

The karmic hindrance surrounded him, and his remaining clarity was rooted in protecting her.

Sang Li walked over and took Ji Hengyu’s hand. “Ji Hengyu, no one will hurt me. Let’s go home, okay? You promised me—you’d go back with me.”

His head throbbed painfully.

He roared, clutching his head, and his sword slipped from his grasp.

In the distorted vision, he saw Ji Xun holding his heart, triumphant like a victor.

“How dare you… a mere puppet…”

“Ji Hengyu?”

“You’re just a puppet. How dare you compete with me.”

He sneered, his breath dissolving into the wind.

In the next instant, Sang Li was flung back by a palm strike. Blood surged in her throat, and she choked out a mouthful of blood. There was no doubt—Ji Hengyu had injured himself as well.

Watching Ji Hengyu chase after them, she struggled to her feet and followed closely.

By now, Ji Xun, sensing Sang Li’s injury, stopped in his tracks and resolutely turned to face him.

“Ji Xun! Either flee with me to the sea or return to Master’s body! What’s the difference between this and throwing yourself into fire?”

“Ji Hengyu’s nature is something you understand best.” Ji Xun’s voice was calm, his eyes filled with unprecedented resolve. “He won’t spare me, and I can’t tolerate him. Rather than endure, I might as well fight.”

Ji Wu shouted in frustration: “But you must know—you have no chance of winning!”

“I know, of course I know.”

He couldn’t win.

But… he didn’t want to admit defeat.

The rustling of tree shadows finally brought the two face to face.

Ji Hengyu swung his sword, and after a few exchanges, Ji Xun gradually fell behind.

Ji Hengyu’s swordsmanship was always indestructible in intent, flexible yet sharp, concealing danger within gentleness. But today, his sword lacked form, leaving Ji Xun, who shared his fate, with no countermeasures.

Chii—!

The sword pierced his abdomen. Ji Xun gasped, his stomach tightening painfully. As he drew the sword, he collapsed against a tree.

Ji Hengyu glared coldly at Ji Xun, stepping closer. Suddenly, a voice called out from the forest—

“Ji Hengyu!”

It was Sang Li. She had caught up.

Ji Hengyu glanced sidelong at her. Days and nights of battle had left him disheveled. The elaborate cloud brocade wedding robe was torn and covered in dust. Even the dragon embroidery had been shredded by sword qi, trailing tattered remnants at his feet.

His expression was icy, the red lines etched across his left cheek making him resemble a creature born of darkness.

Sang Li ran, panting heavily. The man before her seemed both unfamiliar and terrifying.

Her eyes welled with tears, which she had held back for so long now spilled uncontrollably.

“Let him go. We’ll go home. By tomorrow, you’ll feel better.”

“Ji Hengyu, please come home with me.”

Her voice cracked. Overwhelmed with sadness and fear, she cried and pleaded with him. Her frail figure in the desolate night breeze seemed on the verge of being torn apart by the cold.

Whether Ji Hengyu heard her or not, his expression remained cold and unchanged: “I want to reclaim what belongs to me. That heart—it’s mine.”

He repeated stubbornly: “That heart—it’s mine.”

Sang Li wiped away her tears and cautiously approached. “If you take back your heart, will you spare him?”

Ji Hengyu didn’t hesitate for a moment: “No.”

“Why?”

His eyes were empty, tinged with a sickly hue. He murmured, “Even if it were myself, I wouldn’t allow…”

Allow what?

Was it the unauthorized affection? Or the rebellious heart of a puppet?

Sang Li didn’t know, but Ji Xun did.

He was selfish and jealous. From the moment he sensed Ji Xun’s faint affection, he had decided not to let him live.

Yet, pitifully, he still harbored a small hope—a wish to remain in the mortal world, sharing their longing.

Anger surged in Sang Li’s chest.

Even without the karmic hindrance, even if he were clear-headed, he would still do this—still choose to kill Ji Xun and reclaim the heart. But he should have known, with or without Ji Xun, she would still choose him.

“Ji Hengyu, it was you who didn’t want that heart.” Sang Li stated the truth bluntly. “You gave the puppet emotions; you created this situation. You granted him humanity, and now you want to annihilate him? But why? Does he deserve to be treated this way by you?!”

Ji Hengyu stepped closer to Ji Xun.

Sang Li screamed—

“Ji Hengyu, stop! Do you hear me?!”

“Stop—!”

She hurled her feathered ribbon to intervene, but it was too late. Amidst Ji Wu’s cries, Ji Hengyu mercilessly ripped out the heart, without a moment’s hesitation.

A dull thud echoed as the body fell like a heavy sack, sinking into the dust.

The surrounding clamor instantly sank into the silence of primordial chaos.

All sounds ceased. A radiant light rested on his shoulder as he cradled the translucent heart in his palm—it still beat warmly. Countless red threads, like a spider web, entangled it, their vivid colors particularly striking in the night.

Slowly, he returned the heart to his body, but the murderous intent in his eyes showed no sign of fading.

Sang Li realized—he was killing for the sake of killing.

A massive stone lodged in her throat. The world spun, and her legs went limp, nearly unable to stand.

Stumbling, she ran over and grabbed Ji Hengyu’s sleeve, looking up at him with tearful pleading. “Ji Hengyu, this… I’m scared. You’ve taken back your heart, so leave him be. There’s no need to…”

Kill him.

In Sang Li’s eyes, Ji Xun was completely innocent.

He was a victim of Ji Hengyu’s self-willed decision. Born with a heart, he had developed emotions, and now, because of a heart, he was to die. What had he done wrong? How unjust was this?

“I won’t kill him.”

Sang Li’s tears stopped, and a flicker of hope lit up her eyes. Beside her, the dejected Ji Wu also felt a glimmer of hope.

But in the next moment, Ji Hengyu spoke—

“I’ll erase his memories and turn him back into an obedient puppet.”

Sang Li’s eyes widened in shock.

Hearing this, Ji Xun tried to evade, but soon, a powerful suction rendered him immobile.

Ji Hengyu placed his palm on Ji Xun’s head, and incantations began to unravel memories like a scroll unfurling.

Those bright fragments unfolded before Sang Li’s eyes.

He often hid in corners, watching her. He secretly placed freshly picked flowers in her room. He followed her through every mission, day and night.

Sang Li’s grip on his sleeve loosened bit by bit. It felt as if she had been thrown into molten lava—the spasms wracking her insides made her body tense. Numb and terrified, she watched Ji Xun, lying on the ground, enduring the torment.

She stabbed herself again, hoping the pain would awaken him.

But it was futile. Even as Sang Li wounded him until he was covered in injuries, he remained motionless like a withered tree, continuing to maintain the spell.

“Ji Hengyu, stop… I beg you to stop…”

But a being consumed by chaos wouldn’t heed anyone’s pleas.

Ji Xun watched unblinkingly as those memories drifted in the moonlight. Suddenly, he thought—so much time had passed…

While Ji Hengyu had waited for Sang Li for seven years, hadn’t he, too, waited outside Phoenix Grove for seven years?

Alas, his feelings could never see the light of day. He would forever be a shadow beneath his wings—even his love was buried in darkness.

Entwining silkworm curse, entwining silkworm curse.

Bound together but unable to live, longing unresolved…

Ji Xun wouldn’t die.

But he thought—he would never truly live again.