Chapter 112: The Dissipation of Divine Awareness and the Onset of Turmoil

“Miss, you possess profound knowledge—from the heavens above to the earth below. You must surely know where the remaining few are. Please, we implore you to show us the way,” Yin Boxuan pleaded persistently, his tone oily and insincere. He refused to believe that this woman would remain so tight-lipped. After all, his charm was irresistible; no one could bear to refuse him. They had already exhausted every means to extract information.

This time, even Yin Boxuan had resorted to using his allure to coax from her that priceless prophecy. If they failed to uncover anything now, they would truly be at their wits’ end. But this woman was no ordinary player—how could she abandon her steadfast principles for a man who was merely passable in appearance? She cast a disdainful glance at Yin Boxuan, whose eyes were filled with a pitiful plea, then snorted coldly and turned away.

Slowly, she approached Meng Youyuan and spoke with a gentle tone, as if transformed: “You need no longer devise schemes to extract words from me. I am famously tight-lipped. Should I inadvertently soften and reveal what ought not to be spoken, the consequences would be dire—defying the heavens themselves.” With that, she fixed the group with a strange, unsettling gaze, a malicious smile curling at her lips.

Lan Wu, upon seeing the woman’s triumphant expression, was incensed and retorted sarcastically, “You’re no longer among the living; why fear such so-called consequences? Besides, the form before us is but a wisp of divine consciousness. Even if heaven’s wrath falls upon you, it would only hasten your fading. You cannot linger here forever, and since you favor darkness, is this not what you desire?”

In truth, aside from her peculiar nature, the woman was not as detestable as Lan Wu had imagined. Moreover, she had gone to great lengths to assist them. By rights, Lan Wu should have softened her opinion. Yet, she found herself still deeply repulsed. After all, though the woman had wronged Wang Ke, she had never harmed Lan Wu personally. Lan Wu was growing more perplexed by her own feelings and the tangled secrets between them.

At first, Lan Wu had simply assumed the woman had betrayed Wang. But given the current circumstances, it seemed Wang may have wronged her as well. Considering the heinous acts committed in the celestial realm, Wang would hardly harbor no grudges to shelter her. Though Lan Wu had severed ties with the celestial realm, Wang’s merciless nature suggested he would have slain her on the spot to vent his wrath.

Could it be, as the woman claimed, that all of this was a carefully orchestrated conspiracy by Wang, with them as mere pawns? If so, they must be wary indeed. Yet, in Lan Wu’s eyes, the woman’s lure had ulterior motives. She refused to believe the woman’s warnings stemmed from pure goodwill. In short, neither of these two could be fully trusted.

“You may think me timid and cowardly, but I shall not reveal what should remain unsaid. Yet all things have their laws, and among people there are bonds that cannot be severed. The ties between you run deep; sooner or later, you will reunite. The others will appear in due time. You must be patient—seeking them prematurely will only leave you empty-handed,” the woman said softly, her face shrouded in mystery.

“You’re quite the master of suspense—saying nothing is as good as saying everything. It seems even my remarkable gift of foresight falters before your riddles,” Xun Mishuang quipped after hearing the woman’s words. Were it not for witnessing some of her abilities earlier, she might have dismissed her as a charlatan. Such exasperating remarks were truly impressive.

“You are the daughter of a great deity from another realm, and the reincarnation of a certain powerful being, Xun Mishuang?” The woman’s gaze sharpened as she recognized the familiar features. Her surprise was brief before she composed herself and inquired further. To her, the girl resembled that person too closely—as if cast from the same mold. Had she not encountered that individual before, she might have believed it was a resurrection.

“You truly have skill. The one you mention is indeed me. Why such surprise? Is there something I do not know?” Despite the woman’s best efforts to mask it, Xun Mishuang’s keen eyes caught the subtle change in her expression. Why such astonishment toward her? Did some grudge lie between them?

“There is much you do not yet understand. Were I to explain, three days and nights would not suffice. I shall leave a veil of mystery for you to unravel—that is far more intriguing.” The woman’s astuteness and wisdom were evident as she deftly returned the question. The group silently thanked their fortune that they had not confronted her head-on; otherwise, their fate might have been grim indeed.

“You speak truly. Some truths are best discovered firsthand. To rely on others’ words leaves truth and falsehood entwined,” Xun Mishuang responded, sharp-tongued as ever. Honestly, she bore no fondness for the woman, perhaps resenting her air of confident machination, as if all was within her grasp and none could escape her control.

“Enough. I have said what I must and done all that is required. It is time to leave this place, to return to my shadowed abode,” the woman said with no bitterness, but tinged with sorrow. Her tone mingled relief and resignation, yet above all, a deep reluctance and concern for Meng Youyuan. Perhaps only he remained in her heart’s grasp, the one she could not relinquish.

“No!” Meng Youyuan suddenly cried out, her voice filled with desperation. The shadowed abode was none other than the sunless tomb. She intended to consign her sole remaining divine consciousness to oblivion, immersing herself in boundless darkness. She tried to rush forward to stop the woman but was restrained by Lan Bingxian, powerless to intervene, watching with sorrow as if mourning a past life.

The woman brought her hands together, slowly raising them to her chest, then performed a graceful spin—like two beautiful white lotuses entwined. A radiant white light blossomed between her palms, intensifying. As it neared eruption, she smiled faintly at the crowd and suddenly absorbed the light into her body. Her form wavered, dissolving like a wisp of pale smoke.

Just as she was about to vanish completely, she transformed into twinkling stars that scattered gracefully, bathing the room in shimmering, melancholic light. Like the violet glow of the underworld, when its destruction comes, so too marks the end of this existence. Though fleeting, it left an indelible memory—alive in the hearts and minds of some.

Thus, she disappeared from this world entirely, leaving only a whispered message floating in the air: “You, Yuan Yuan, must live well in my stead—joyfully and without regret. Should you one day meet another girl, tell her to cast aside all restraint and live fully for herself. That one is worth her waiting, worth her forsaking all.”

“Why must you leave me so cruelly? I have finally felt the warmth of family, yet you heartlessly abandon me again. Am I doomed never to know kinship?” Meng Youyuan, freed from her bonds, collapsed in despair, weeping bitterly. The others, witnessing her anguish, were at a loss, silently hoping that her sorrow would ease with time.

“Foolish girl, how could you be abandoned when you still have me—a man who cannot let you go, who stays by your side, cherishes and cares for you?” Lan Bingxian’s heart ached seeing his beloved so sorrowful. The pain spread like poison through his veins—not instantly fatal, but tormenting beyond measure, an agony far worse than death.

“You have us as well. I’ve always regarded you as a dear little sister. How can you say you feel no kinship?” Lan Wu stepped forward, crouching beside Meng Youyuan, whispering softly. Seeing the girl’s sorrow nearly brought tears to her own eyes. Meng Youyuan was truly important—she had taught Lan Wu the warmth found in caring for another.

Before meeting Meng Youyuan, Lan Wu had always basked in the love of those around her, accepted as a sister by all. But when she met this girl, everything changed—she gained a friend like a sister. Through caring for her, Lan Wu came to understand what true affection meant—not just accepting love, but giving it sincerely.

At first, caring for others felt unfamiliar, but gradually it became a joy. Seeing those she cared for happy lifted her spirits inexplicably. When they were sad, she shared their gloom, tears falling in tandem. This was genuine emotion—a mutual, heartfelt bond.

“Yes, I too have always treated you like a little sister. How can you say you have no family, no warmth? I’d be angry if you did!” Yan Xuesu approached, taking Meng Youyuan’s hand with a mock-scolding expression. She was perhaps the one who understood this little girl best. Sometimes, the absence is not of warmth itself, but the particular comfort of blood ties.

No matter how good others are, they can never replace true family. That subtle feeling remains elusive. Friends may temporarily fill the void, but only kinship can revive the soul. Such affection cannot be substituted by friendship or love, for these bonds cannot compensate for one another.

“Not only those here but everyone cares deeply for you. Though some refuse to show it, I believe seeing you like this pains them as well. For our sakes, and for his, you have cried enough. Let it be; no more sorrow!” Xun Mishuang spoke, her eyes glancing toward the old director, silently hoping he might be moved to reveal his own heart.