AUOF - 82

Yanjing Tower was like a pleading dog, watching her approach step by step. His expression shifted from desolation to anticipation and slight nervousness.

“Wan...” Yanjing Tower couldn’t wait to call her name.

“I am not Luo Wanwan.”

The heavy rain carried her voice, making her tone unusually cold.

Sang Li had no intention of engaging in any verbal sparring. Her face remained aloof, devoid of any emotion.

“Today, I will not hide anything from you.” She didn’t deliberately avoid Yanjing Tower’s gaze but instead lifted her head to meet his eyes directly. Compared to his slightly darkened long eyes, Sang Li’s expression was clearer—clear like a shard of glass, effortlessly slicing through his hopes and persistence.

“When you sent Sang Li to Gui Xu, she was already exposed by Ji Hengyu. Your initial suspicion was correct; Sang Li has been dead since then. I am merely a wandering soul from another realm, occupying her body and living through it. So you can consider both Sang Li and Luo Wanwan as dead. We have no connection anymore.”

Every word she spoke felt like a burning thorn etched into her heart.

Yanjing Tower refused to accept: “I’ve seen your spirit form. The spirit doesn’t lie. You are her.” Fearing that Sang Li would deny it again, he raised his voice even more, “I believe what you said, but you saw it too—the soul guide separated your soul. You’ve just returned to where you belong.”

As he spoke, he bent his back even lower, pleading pathetically: “Wanwan... I was wrong. Don’t leave me again. I’ll do anything, explain everything. We can be like before. Whatever memories you’ve forgotten, I will help you regain them.”

He stepped closer, desperately trying to grasp Sang Li’s hand, not noticing the butterfly trembling on the branch. In an instant, a gust of wind arose, intensifying the rain.

The torrential rain startled her, but Yanjing Tower’s words shocked her even more. Her lips turned noticeably pale.

She had lived in the modern world for seventeen years, educated under modern systems.

And this world... this world was nothing more than a novel existing in someone else’s imagination. How could she possibly be Luo Wanwan? How could she ever be Luo Wanwan?

Panic gripped her heart, momentarily cutting off blood flow and leaving her chest feeling suffocated.

Sang Li quickly regained her composure, taking two steps back to evade his hand: “When you thought Cui Wanning was Luo Wanwan, how did the Demon Lord treat me? Oh, no, we don’t even need to go that far. Just this morning, didn’t you want to rip out my inner core? Now that you think I am Luo Wanwan, you suddenly want to showcase your so-called deep love? But all I feel is how cheap your love is.”

She had spoken quite a bit and slowly caught her breath, no longer looking at him: “I’ve figured out my way forward. Though Gui Xu Sea isn’t much better than Yin Prefecture, at least there are people who treat me kindly there. They won’t beat or exploit me at every turn, nor treat me like a disposable chess piece. So from now on, you continue being your Demon Lord, and I’ll keep being that little fox spirit. Stop纠缠 me—it’s both degrading and disgusting.”

The relentless rain continued to batter his body.

Yanjing Tower’s entire body trembled—his limbs, fingertips, teeth. The cold seeped through his pores into his organs, amplifying a hundredfold, chilling him to the bone.

Yes, he wanted to kill her...

He wanted to tear open her stomach with his own hands, extract that spiritual core, and pluck out each of her tails one by one.

Yanjing Tower closed his eyes tightly, tears and rain mingling as they slid down his cheeks.

He had many explanations he couldn’t articulate. In this situation, any defense sounded like an excuse for his incompetence: “...There was a soul-binding bead inside her. I assumed it was you.”

Yanjing Tower hadn’t neglected to confirm.

When he brought Cui Wanning back, he verified countless times—every detail of their daily life, her preferences, the little tunes she hummed, the occasional reminiscences—all gradually dispelled his doubts and made him slowly accept her.

But Yanjing Tower could never recapture the flutter he felt upon their first meeting.

After reincarnation, Cui Wanning’s body was frail, and she was of mortal roots. Even though she repeatedly sought intimacy, Yanjing Tower never touched her once.

One reason was that he didn’t want to hurt Wanwan;

Another reason was a faint sense of repulsion buried deep within him.

Yanjing Tower didn’t know what he was repulsed by.

Wasn’t she the lover he had painstakingly searched for over a thousand years? Whatever she wanted, he should give it to her.

He had even despised himself, thinking that the three-thousand-year separation had made him develop reservations, leading him to treat Cui Wanning better. When he saw traces of Luo Wanwan in Sang Li’s eyes, he suppressed any emerging doubts, refusing to entertain second thoughts.

His heart had already given him hints, but look at what he had done?

Sang Li was absolutely right—he was hypocritical, cowardly, a weakling.

But... but his love for her was undeniable.

It was the beautiful memories from his youth with her that had sustained him, pushing him step by step to where he stood today.

Yanjing Tower slumped, slowly kneeling before her.

His knees pressed close to the puddles at her feet, his tall frame reduced to a pitiful state, drenched yet unbowed.

Sang Li stared wide-eyed in astonishment.

“I deeply regret my mistakes and deserve to make amends.”

Yanjing Tower hollowly glanced at her wrist, which he had broken earlier.

Without hesitation, he clenched his fist, raised his arm, and with a muffled crack of bones, smashed his own hand against a nearby boulder, breaking it.

Torn flesh, tendons, and blood were all exposed.

The crimson liquid was diluted by the rain, flowing into the ground. The damp curtain of rain mixed with a faint metallic scent.

Sang Li was speechless, her entire body stiffening.

“I even thought about extracting your spirit core...”

Yanjing Tower had completely lost his former rationality. His lips moved soundlessly, and with his other hand, he tensed his fingers, piercing his abdomen sharply.

“Enough—!”

“You’ve had enough—!!”

Sang Li was nearly collapsing.

Her eyes were bloodshot with shock, her scream turning hoarse: “What are you doing? Do you want to make me feel guilty? Or do you seek my forgiveness? I am not Luo Wanwan, nor am I the former Sang Li. I can’t say a single word on their behalf! Even if you die here, I won’t sympathize at all! All I feel is disgust! You degrade yourself in the name of love, leaving me burdened with your life because of this unfounded affection!”

Her long-maintained composure finally crumbled at this moment.

Sang Li trembled violently, tears streaming uncontrollably. The tears weren’t voluntary—they seemed to be the body’s final release of emotions, and Sang Li didn’t stop them, letting the drops fall one by one.

Compared to the tears, her expression revealed extraordinary disgust and anger.

Just one more move, and Yanjing Tower’s hand could break through the protective barrier around the spirit core and extract it.

But he stopped.

The pain in his body was nothing compared to the agony in Sang Li’s eyes.

Sang Li took a few steps back, turning to leave.

She walked fast and urgently, stumbling occasionally due to the uneven rain-soaked path.

Yanjing Tower had never felt such panic in his life.

Shakily rising, he chased after her without regard: “Wanwan, A Li, however you treat me is fine, just don’t ignore me. Even if you don’t accept me, do whatever you wish, just don’t ignore me…”

Being treated as strangers was far worse than hatred or loathing.

They had once been the most loving couple. She begged for lifelong remembrance, and he responded accordingly, remembering every day they spent together for three thousand years.

Hate him, kill him, anything but estrangement.

Yanjing Tower lunged forward, finally grabbing hold of her hem.

A flicker of hope flashed in his eyes, but in the blink of an eye, a cold glint passed, and the Huagu Ling pierced through his chest from back to front.

Yanjing Tower hunched over, spitting out a mouthful of filthy blood, his ink-black pupils reflecting the girl’s icy expression.

Puchi!

Sang Li pulled the Huagu Ling sword out of his body.

The blood droplets on it were quickly absorbed by the Huagu Ling. She lowered her eyelids, disdainfully looking at him as he slowly collapsed before her, showing no trace of reluctance or pity.

“This strike was self-defense.”

Self-defense?

Yanjing Tower gave a bitter smile.

Did she mean he was an enemy attacking from behind?

Even being considered an enemy was better than being a stranger.

Sang Li continued walking forward.

After a few steps, she stopped and turned back, reigniting a faint hope in Yanjing Tower, who struggled to lift his head.

Unexpectedly, Sang Li only threw a jade bracelet in front of him.

The jade bracelet was smooth and lustrous, its superior quality unmarred even by the mud. Along with it, she tossed a note.

[Present from Master, birthday gift.

Seventh day of the first lunar month.]

In an instant, the rain blurred the ink on it.

Yanjing Tower looked blankly and dazed at the crumpled paper, having no memory of it at all.

Sang Li wasn’t surprised that he forgot, smirking disdainfully: “I must admit, A Li’s fondness for you wasn’t entirely due to gratitude for saving her life. Perhaps it was a lingering sentiment from Luo Wanwan that influenced her, making her cherish you deeply.”

Yanjing Tower froze.

Sang Li continued: “If you had kept her by your side, even sharing a little kindness, our fates wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

This “we” referred to the little fox spirit, Yanjing Tower, and herself.

She had to admit, she was unwilling.

Despite having long accepted her circumstances, whenever she thought of her once attainable dreams during the quiet nights, sorrow still enveloped her deeply.

Sang Li turned her head away, not wanting Yanjing Tower to see her reddened eyes.

“But you killed her.”

These five words sounded ethereal, her figure even more illusory and distant.

Yanjing Tower couldn’t grasp it. Overwhelmed by pain, his body curled up like a shrimp, allowing himself to fall into the muddy puddle beneath his feet. His shoulders trembled with unexpressed frustration, and a faint laugh escaped his throat, transitioning from laughter to sobs, then to wails.

Bitter tears choked in his throat, causing pain.

His life had been filled with endless sorrow, believing that reaching the pinnacle would grant him everything, only to find it a futile dream in the end. He belonged in the mud, and the one who once extended a helping hand would never pull him up again.

No matter how he cried, felt remorse, or pleaded.

Even enduring thousands of cuts or losing three thousand years of cultivation wouldn’t bring her back.

At the end of his vision lay a pair of silver-gray boots.

For the first time, Yanjing Tower didn’t stand up to face him with a straight posture.

He was a fragile puppet on the brink of life and death, needing just one blow to shatter him completely.

Yanjing Tower’s eyes were hollow, devoid of any vitality.

He opened his mouth, his voice rough and unpleasant—

“Ji Hengyu, kill me.”

He owed Sang Li a life.

Since she didn’t want it, it didn’t matter whom he gave it to.

One lay in the mud, while the other stood in the rainy night.

Ji Hengyu lowered his gaze, observing his half-dead state indifferently, appreciating the sight for a brief moment before lightly fluttering his lashes to say: “You’re dead, how will you receive wedding invitations?”

Yanjing Tower’s body shook, looking over in disbelief.

Ji Hengyu, however, simply stepped over him, his back merging into the rain curtain—a spine unbent by wind and rain, like a tall bamboo born in the snow, resilient and proud.