“Blood, the scent of blood.” Demons are most sensitive to blood; in the air, she smelled the delectable aroma of fresh blood. Saying this, Murong Youxue, now transformed into a fierce ghost, lunged at Xiao Tu. Her sharp nails dug into Xiao Tu’s left shoulder, drawing blood. “Snap!” There was a crisp sound as Xiao Tu used her magic to slap away Youxue’s hand. “Want to drink my blood? Not so easy!”
The scent of blood grew stronger, exciting Youxue further. The two clashed in mid-air, pink beams of light against black mist. The golden cherry blossom mark on Xiao Tu’s forehead emitted a bright light, which shone on Murong Youxue, causing her to hesitate in her advance. The golden light also struck the specters, turning them into white smoke. However, the small beams of golden light could not save many; as more blood flowed from Xiao Tu’s shoulder, Murong Youxue grew more excited, relentlessly pursuing her. Any lapse in focus could result in another wound.
Some were already at their limits, and even the soldiers summoned by the four elders were injured. The air was thick with the scent of blood, which only invigorated the specters further. Amidst the chaos, no one noticed a green figure in the corner, strangely avoided by the specters. His hands were covered in coagulated blood, still reeking of blood. He gave a resolute smile, “Youxue, I’m not worth all this…”
“I swear by my identity, by the name of the Prince of the Demon Curse Clan, I offer everything I have to banish these specters and revive Murong Youxue.” With that, he pulled out a dagger glowing with white luminescence and cut his wrist. Blue blood flowed, contrasting with his snow-white skin, each drop forming a circular pattern on the ground. Seeing the pattern take shape, he smiled, raising his arm at the center of the hall. “All of you, return to the darkness, this place isn’t for you.” Instantly, a vortex formed on the ground, sucking in all the specters. Wang Xie’s expression softened as he regained calm. The black mist receded from Murong Youxue, and a sharp scream pierced the air as the ghost possessing her revealed its true form—a mix of ghost and monster, struggling before being sucked into the vortex.
The black mist completely left Youxue, and she lay peacefully on the ground, her previously severed left arm now whole. Seeing her safe, Mo Li smiled, giving Xiao Tu a meaningful glance, filled with both gratitude and resentment…
“Youxue, I’ll go first. Don’t do anything foolish again,” he said tenderly, like coaxing a child. From his feet, Mo Li’s body began to fade, turning into tiny green specks, like playful sprites, jumping around the hall, healing wounds as they touched them. “Mo Li…” Xiao Tu couldn’t help but cry out, her heart aching, wanting to hold onto the fading spirit.
When Murong Youxue opened her eyes, she saw Mo Li’s almost transparent body, still with that smile. “Brother, don’t leave Xue Er behind…” Her cry of despair echoed as she watched him vanish into green light. This word “Brother” shocked everyone.
“Brother, without you, what’s the point of all this!” Watching the last speck of green light disappear, her tears flowed like a river…
“Mo Li, brother…” Xiao Tu watched as the man who had just recently dined with her, cared for her, and covered her with a blanket, now fading away, her heart ached. Although only a few days had passed, she had already considered Mo Li as her older brother. Tears streamed down her delicate face, “Mo Li, rest in peace.” Murong Youxue’s mournful cries echoed in the hall for a long time, leaving everyone in a state of shock, as if the overwhelming darkness had been nothing but an illusion.
Elder Yu approached Murong Youxue and said, “Alas, this is a matter from a thousand years ago. I didn’t expect you still couldn’t let go.”
“Let go? How can I let go when I never truly held on? Once held, how can one let go? He’s deeply rooted in my heart, perhaps he was never in my heart, or perhaps he was always there. Why, why did you do this to me, Mo Li?”
Seeing her heart-wrenching sobs, Xiao Tu could understand Murong’s feelings. The death of Bai Hua had given her a similar shock. Watching her despair, Xiao Tu felt a sense of vindictive satisfaction; she harbored resentment towards Murong Youxue. She was human, not a saint, and it was impossible for her not to hate the one who killed her beloved. However, Mo Li’s death made her feel even more guilty, a guilt that sank even deeper. In her mind, that green figure lingered, stuck in the last moment of that complex smile. “Murong Youxue, the situation you find yourself in today is a result of your own actions, and you have no one else to blame,” Elder Fire Fox said disapprovingly. “My actions? Ridiculous. Aren’t you going to say that it’s her doing?” Murong Youxue pointed at Xiaotu, her voice filled with hatred. “Murong Youxue, now that Mo Li has died for everyone, he has died for you too. You can say whatever you want about me, but I can only tell you this: whatever entanglements we had in our past lives, I do not know. But in this life, there is a deep hatred between us. You killed my husband, and I will never let this go. Today, for the sake of Brother Mo Li, I will not hold it against you.” Holding back tears, she spoke these words, her body gradually weakening. In just these short two days, both people close to her had left; human life was indeed so fragile. These words left Murong Youxue speechless; Mo Li had indeed died for her. She remembered his last words, “Don’t do anything reckless anymore.” Tears rolled down once again, realizing that in his heart, all she had done was considered reckless. “Mother Empress, you truly disappoint me,” Muyao suddenly walked out from a side door, looking at Murong Youxue with contempt. “Yao’er.” The orange figure stood tall in the center of the great hall, looking at Murong Youxue and said word by word, “You abandoned your throne for that man, nearly lost your life, was it worth it?”
