Chapter 41: Life-Death Soul

Ye Jingqiu’s face was ashen white, and she didn’t dare ponder the grim implications.

If the Instinct Potion imposed such a massive burden on the body, did that mean every activation of Instinct was like subjecting oneself to death by a thousand cuts?

Ye Jingqiu had no idea what to say. She recalled those medical dramas she’d watched before—the protagonist in a car crash rushed to the hospital on the brink of death, top surgeons battling to save them through a day and night of grueling procedures. Finally, wiping sweat from their brows, they’d tell the family that everything now hinged on the patient’s will to live. Cue the relatives gripping the protagonist’s hands, tears streaming as they reminisced about happier times, and snap—the patient pulled off a medical miracle.

But no one ever talked about how to save someone who had no will to live in the first place.

“Teacher Xiao Xu,” Ye Jingqiu stammered, her words tumbling out in a desperate plea, “please don’t use Instinct anymore, okay? The Base will have a way to fix this. We promised each other—you’re supposed to make sure I get to school on time after classes start. Let’s get out first. Please, let’s just get out…”

Another suffocating silence fell, broken only by the frantic pounding of her heart and Xu Xianyue’s.

She didn’t dare say anything more, just kept repeating the word “out” like a mantra. A long while later, Xu Xianyue finally spoke, her voice a soft sigh from behind:

“…Okay.”

She said okay?

Ye Jingqiu was stunned, as if she’d been bonked on the head by a golden ingot falling from the sky. “R-Really? Teacher Xiao Xu, you’re not tricking me, are you? Promise you won’t use Instinct again!”

“Mm, no tricks. Didn’t you say you needed to find your Captain?” Xu Xianyue’s tone was as gentle as ever. “I woke this dragon prematurely. It’s still not fully aware, so let’s slip out while we can.”

Ye Jingqiu’s fear evaporated in an instant. She nodded vigorously, shoving down the lingering unease in her chest. Reactivating Wind Slash, she steered them toward the vaulted ceiling of the Golden Hall.

The Candle Dragon let out a long, rumbling cry as it circled in place, its serpentine neck craning in all directions. It exhaled blasts of searing Dragon Flame. Just as Xu Xianyue had said, the beast seemed to be in the midst of recovering its wits.

“Teacher Xiao Xu, there don’t seem to be any other entrances or exits here. How did you get in?” Ye Jingqiu dodged nimbly, the wind roaring too loudly around them. She had to shout over her shoulder.

“The Candle Dragon Scale—they told me it’s the only key to getting in and out of here,” Xu Xianyue called back. “But I only have one piece.”

“No worries. We’ll grab a second one right off that dragon,” Ye Jingqiu said with a laugh, her bright eyes blazing with determination. At last, she’d found something she could actually do. “Freshly harvested—guaranteed to work!”

Wind Slash surged to life once more, invisible wings unfurling around them. Ye Jingqiu banked sharply, hurtling back toward the very spot she’d been so desperate to flee moments before.

Thin trickles of blood seeped from her hands— a richer crimson than even the dragon’s scales. Ye Jingqiu knew it was a side effect of overusing Instinct. She glanced at it once, then summoned a gust to scatter the droplets before Xu Xianyue could notice a thing.

The Candle Dragon seemed to spot them now. Its massive, coiling body undulated like a swimming fish. Crimson Bone Spikes and scales flared open as the ancient behemoth slowly parted its ranks of jagged teeth. Ye Jingqiu braced for a repeat performance—but then the dragon reared back slightly. In the next instant, it launched forward like a spring compressed to its limit.

Snowy-white fangs reeking of bloodlust hurtled toward them in a flash. The dragon’s upper jaw clamped down viciously, like the gates of a dam slamming shut!

“Down!” Xu Xianyue shouted.

In the blink of an eye, Wind Slash reversed course. With gravity pulling them, they plummeted just in time to evade the bite. Ye Jingqiu lunged out, fingers clamping desperately onto the Candle Dragon’s neck!

“ROOOAR—”

The dragon’s furious bellow exploded like a thousand bronze bells tolling right in their ears! The shockwave blasted into Ye Jingqiu’s ear canal, sending a spike of agony through her right side. Then, as if a switch had flipped, the entire world fell eerily silent.

Warmth trickled down the right side of her face. Ye Jingqiu wiped it carelessly, her palm coming away slick with blood so thick she couldn’t tell its source.

Her eardrum had burst.

Dazed from the impact, she clung to the scales and whispered a command to the world: “Re…pair!”

Vitality flooded back into her, but this time the healing was noticeably slower. Her head swam with fog; she’d reached her limit.

Activating Instinct required channeling elemental forces. She might wield power equal to the dragon’s, but a human body and a dragon’s frame were worlds apart. The amount of elemental energy her flesh could contain was like night and day. If this dragged on, the Candle Dragon wouldn’t even need to attack—she’d burn herself out.

She really shouldn’t have flown so high.

As the saying went, know thyself and know thy enemy, and you’d win a hundred battles. This was her first time relying on Yan—her word-becomes-law power—for such a prolonged fight. Next time… well, screw next time. Just survive this one first!

Ye Jingqiu yanked off her jacket and swiftly looped it around a dragon scale, securing both herself and Xu Xianyue in place. The dragon’s neck was as thick as a palace pillar; even without one sleeve, her jacket barely covered half the circumference.

The Candle Dragon thrashed its head, trying in vain to reach them, but Ye Jingqiu had picked the perfect spot. Unless it wanted to unleash a Dragon Flame barrage and risk killing itself along with eight hundred enemies, it was stuck letting these two little bugs crawl all over it.

Ye Jingqiu tentatively touched Xu Xianyue’s wrist. It was still shockingly cold—inhumanly so. Xu Xianyue must have been rattled by the roar too; her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was unusually still.

“Okay, okay… it’ll be quick. Real quick… we’ll be out soon.” Ye Jingqiu panted the reassurance, deliberately ignoring Xu Xianyue’s bloodless lips. With trembling hands, she drew her knife and set to prying at the dragon scale.

As expected, it wouldn’t budge.

Fire? Wind? Water? What would dislodge this thing?

Ye Jingqiu murmured incantations under her breath, cycling through all four elements in rapid succession. The Candle Dragon was slowly rising now; the massive coils piled on the floor had nearly unraveled. Who knew when it might decide to take them on a rollercoaster ride?

“Don’t think—just don’t think about anything… Focus. Pull it out! You can do this!”

Ye Jingqiu muttered to herself, hating that dragon with every fiber of her being. Why couldn’t it have stayed asleep down here like a good little apocalypse? Why did it have to wake up and try to end the world? Villains were just so damn hateable!

She inexplicably thought of the Captain. If the Captain were here, what would she do? Ye Jingqiu clamped down hard on the dragon scale, recalling Shi Zui’s pitch-black eyes that always seemed utterly calm.

In a hazy blur, she could almost hear her voice. What had Shi Zui told her?

【You’ve changed a lot already. I believe in you.】

That’s right—even the base’s undisputed top agent had unwavering faith in her. So what did she have to worry about? She just needed to yank out the dragon scale, and Teacher Xiao Xu would definitely be okay. The Captain was no doubt waiting for her right outside the door.

She recalled those protagonists who clawed their way back from the brink of death, waking up to gaze soulfully at their families in tearful silence before bawling, “I knew you wouldn’t give up on me, waaah!”

Sure, it was corny, but wasn’t that trust in its own way? Ye Jingqiu wondered if it’d be okay to tease the Captain about it later.

Of course it would—they were battle-hardened teammates who’d stared death in the face together!

Ye Jingqiu suddenly burst out laughing. Ink-black flames surged up from her right hand gripping the Quick Knife. Her entire body was leaking blood that threatened her life; this human frame simply couldn’t handle unleashing Instinct so frequently anymore.

But no matter. Half the dragon scale was already sliced off! It was lodged in Ye Jingqiu’s grip, its flawless, razor-sharp curve gleaming with an almost divine luster. She kept sawing away with all her might. She truly had the dragon scale in hand now—but it had her just as firmly in its clutches!

The blade-like edges of the scale were embedded deep in her palm. The pulsing scale throbbed on, slicing through her veins. Blood hissed out in torrents, only to evaporate into mist under the flames an instant later.

The pain tore at her heart and split her soul. Ye Jingqiu clenched her teeth to stifle any cry, every hardship of her first half-life compressed into this moment.

But there was no time left for levity. Xu Xianyue’s awareness seemed to be fading fast—no more delays. Ye Jingqiu ignored the throbbing ache screaming through her nerves. She slammed her right foot down on the dragon scale, Ignited Instinct once more, and wrenched outward with savage force—

Out it came! A vibrant, pulsing, pristine dragon scale. The Candle Dragon bellowed in outrage, its earth-shaking roar echoing like thunder.

None of it mattered anymore. She could get out now. She’d come storming back with the Captain, and if that dragon didn’t drop to its knees whimpering “Milady, I was wrong,” she wouldn’t deserve the name Ye!

“I’ve got the scale!” Ye Jingqiu lunged forward in a rush, clutching Xu Xianyue’s wrist tight once more. “Teacher Xiao Xu, how do we use it? Let’s go—right now, out of this place!”

Xu Xianyue opened her eyes.

Ye Jingqiu’s elation shattered. In the depths of Xu Xianyue’s gaze leaped a pure azure flame, blazing fiercely and uncontrollably—the same azure as the Mirror Domain’s inferno, the same uncanny shade as the He Ju Beasts’ spectral fire.

“Teacher Xiao Xu…” All the blood in Ye Jingqiu’s body turned to ice. “You lied to me. You lied.”

Fat teardrops mingled with blood and trailed down. Ye Jingqiu trembled, words failing her. She watched Xu Xianyue seize her hand and press something hard into it.

A piece of chocolate.

“I tossed the dragon scale ages ago. I never planned to make it out alive.”

Xu Xianyue spoke softly, dabbing at Ye Jingqiu’s tears with the one clean sleeve left on her. But the tears wouldn’t stop. “Xiao Qiu, did I ever tell you why I like chocolate?”

Ye Jingqiu bit her lip bloody. She shook her head.

“It was actually my mom who loved it. That day, they took me out for a stroll. Mom suddenly said she wanted to buy some candy. I told her I couldn’t walk anymore, so she said, ‘Then wait right here for us, okay?'”

The Candle Dragon sensed something. It roared skyward in a frenzy. The azure flames in Xu Xianyue’s eyes darkened further, yet she kept smiling. “Then it all went down like this. I only saw their backs swallowed by the firelight—nothing else. Not even a handful of ashes left for me.”

The cold, ashen flames flickered wildly. Xu Xianyue seized Ye Jingqiu’s hand on the dragon scale, her voice eerily serene. “Truth is, this dragon wasn’t supposed to wake until tomorrow night. I knew your mission was to kill it. I wanted to help you all.”

A wisp of azure flame sparked in Xu Xianyue’s palm. She eased it toward the dragon scale—and in a heartbeat, the impenetrable slab that shrugged off bullets and fire began to burn.

Xu Xianyue shoved Ye Jingqiu away hard. Azure flames erupted in a wall behind her. Ye Jingqiu felt an invisible conduit sweep her up. She thrashed to break free, but her drained body refused to respond.

“No, no, no!” Ye Jingqiu screamed with everything she had. Her vision swam; all she could make out was Xu Xianyue, stripped of Wind Slash’s shield, plummeting like a shooting star.

“Xiao Qiu, I’m sorry.” Those were Xu Xianyue’s final words.

Boom—

The azure flames detonated. Xu Xianyue and the Candle Dragon vanished together in the all-engulfing blaze. Ye Jingqiu went rigid, staring as Xu Xianyue plunged into the endless inferno. In that heartbeat, her heart turned hollow, cold as dead ash.

Aether elements converged in a flash. The world before her eyes dissolved into pure gray. She was back at the nexus of reality and the Heterodimensional Space.

Ye Jingqiu drifted aimlessly in the sterile gray void, shying from the word “death.” Despite giving her all, she’d failed to bring Xu Xianyue out. Helplessness churned like a storm in her chest.

Her head pounded as if splitting. Scattered memories resurfaced. Ye Jingqiu snapped awake as from a nightmare—the instant of Xu Xianyue’s fall replaying like celluloid, fusing with some buried fragment of recollection.

I’ve messed up again. The second time.

Ye Jingqiu thought.

Why does it always end like this? She’d believed she could save herself, that her Instinct had grown mighty enough. But reality kept slapping her down, scoffing, “Dream on—you’re not cut out for it.”

Am I really that useless? It feels like I can’t save anyone.

A wave of desolation crashed over her like the tide. Ye Jingqiu felt her eyelids growing unbearably heavy and sore. Her hands, slashed open by the Dragon Scale, were still oozing blood, the deep crimson staining nearly every inch of her skin.

But she couldn’t sleep. She still had so many things left unfinished.

“Xiao Qiu.”

A familiar voice suddenly rang out. Ye Jingqiu snapped out of her haze and forced herself upright, straining to tell if this was a dream.

“Xiao Qiu.”

The voice repeated the name, and Ye Jingqiu found herself enveloped in a warm embrace. She opened her eyes, an overwhelming urge to cry surging within her.

It was Shi Zui.

Shi Zui’s eyes were as deep and dark as ink, just as always. Her hands, gloved in combat gear, gripped Ye Jingqiu’s bloodied palm tightly. Pristine white bandages were wrapped carefully, one layer at a time, around Ye Jingqiu’s wounds.

Ye Jingqiu wiped the blood from her face. She was fully awake now. Throwing caution to the wind, she reached forward and clutched Shi Zui tightly. In that instant, all her loneliness and helplessness evaporated like mist. She had bet correctly—her back was always guarded by the Captain!

Grief and pain burst forth together. Like a weary traveler finally home, the tempests she had weathered outside now had an outlet. Choking back sobs, Ye Jingqiu hugged Shi Zui and voiced the question whose answer she already knew:

“C-Captain?”

Shi Zui hummed softly in response. She had no idea what horrors her little teammate had endured, but she had seen the razor-sharp bloodstains crisscrossing Ye Jingqiu’s body all too clearly.

So she simply held Ye Jingqiu with utmost care, repeating her words with unwavering certainty:

“It’s me. I’m here.”

In this moment, amid the endless expanse of pure gray, Shi Zui alone was the anchor of reality in a sea of illusions.