Chapter 113: Twenty-Two

Cang Tong ran against the wind, her strong and powerful limbs serving as her greatest support in this moment. Behind her, a massive Silver Wolf leaped high into the air, swinging its sharp claws as it lunged at her again and again.

Her subjects threw themselves forward with their flesh-and-blood bodies, desperately trying to block the demon beast’s path, sacrificing their lives one after another.

Screams echoed endlessly behind her, blood splattering everywhere around. Cang Tong trampled through the muddy gore, swift as the free wind. She heard someone shouting, “My king! Run! Keep running, my king!”

Others yelled, “Hold that Silver Wolf back!”

But far more voices cried out, “Save me! Save me!”

“My king! Please save me!”

Their homes and kingdom had long fallen, yet the remnants of her subjects still sacrificed themselves for this powerless ruler. Many urged her to flee, but even more wept and screamed for their king, hoping she could save their lives.

In the end, what was a king?

Was it a helpless child hiding behind their people, protected by them? Or a leader who stood before the masses, shielding them all?

She should be a leader. She must be a leader.

Everyone here would face death—Cang Tong knew this clearly in her heart. Running further would only delay the inevitable. No matter what, they couldn’t escape the dynasty’s encirclement.

If that was the case, then in her final moments of life, she would protect her people.

Cang Tong gazed toward the distant horizon, her youthful face filled with resolve. She brought her wrist to her mouth and bit down hard. Blood immediately gushed forth.

On the vast plain, a mysterious call arose—the child of the Silver Moon summoning its mother: “Ancient and sacred ruler of the black night, sole master of the vast starry expanse…”

“Please turn the daylight into night, descend upon the mortal world at this moment…”

“Silver Moon Sovereign, heed the call of your child.”

In that instant, the earth shook and mountains trembled. The Silver Wolf chasing Cang Tong lunged forward, opening its gaping maw to clamp down on her head.

Its razor-sharp teeth snapped shut, and a burst of white light exploded from the Silver Wolf’s mouth. Countless rays of white light scattered, illuminating the ground in a blinding white haze. All the wolf pack froze, turning as one toward Cang Tong and the Silver Wolf.

The next second, they released their prey and charged toward the Silver Wolf en masse.

The wind rose, whipping into a fierce gale across the grassland. Clouds churned overhead, dark storm clouds blotting out the sky in an instant. The once-bright day plunged into night.

Every living creature on the ground grew restless. The Xia Kingdom soldiers stared at the pitch-black night in panic. “This is… this is…”

“The divine glory of Night Lord Muli!”

Suddenly, a blood moon appeared in the blackened sky. In a flash, crimson light bathed Cang Tong’s body, still gripped in the Silver Wolf’s jaws. Then they saw it—countless Silver Wolves swarming forward, devouring the broken body of the young king.

The ravenous beasts tore into the corpse, licking up every drop of blood that fell to the ground. They turned with their massive leader, fixing their gazes on the distant Xia Kingdom soldiers.

Their ice-blue eyes gleamed coldly. The next moment, they charged toward the soldiers, knocking them from their horses one by one.

Bloodshed spread across the grassland. The children of the Silver Moon, who had offered their souls in sacrifice to their mother, led their remaining subjects in a final counterattack.

The battle was utterly brutal. Everyone who appeared on this grassland sacrificed their lives.

When the last Xia Kingdom soldier fell, the massive Silver Wolf staggered and knelt to the ground. It lifted its gaze, staring at the carpet of corpses. In the darkness, it seemed to see countless drifting souls approaching it.

The Silver Wolf struggled to its feet and staggered toward the riverbank. It led these phantoms silently back to their homeland.

In the wind, ghostly voices seemed to murmur a low chant: “Do you still remember those nights under the pristine Silver Moon, when the children of the Silver Moon gazed across the Er Ma River, yearning for days long gone…”

From then on, all the fallen souls followed their sovereign back to their long-lost homeland.

After filming this scene, Ye Can stood rooted to the spot for a long time, unable to snap out of it. She remained at the filming location, staring at the prop blood strewn across the ground, her mind still replaying the images she’d conjured.

In that same desperate situation, the king of this small tribal nation hadn’t let herself be slaughtered. Instead, she’d given everything—upholding her people’s faith, granting peace to all her fallen subjects.

This, perhaps, is the light of humanity.

Ye Can thought, paying respect to these unyielding beliefs and heroic warriors.

Maybe this world is absurd, despairing. But when facing such a world, escape isn’t the only path. Tearing oneself apart is just the act of a coward. True bravery means exhausting every option, even in desperation, to find the best way out—like the one in this story.

Despite how awful life could get, the sun still warmed their bones, didn’t it?

Ye Can tilted her head up, watching Lin Zixi approach. In this moment, she gained her own enlightenment.

Ye Can had performed brilliantly in this scene.

Especially the sacrifice—it had gripped Lin Zixi, watching from off-set, with heartache. So when she came to drape a down jacket over Ye Can, her face was still unnaturally pale.

As she did so, Ye Can grasped her hand, asking with deep concern, “Why is your face so pale? Did you get too cold?”

Lin Zixi shook her head. “No, your acting just blew me away.”

Ye Can smiled and pulled her into an embrace, whispering softly by her ear, “And that’s what blows you away? So what words will you use to praise me in the future?”

The future… what a wonderfully beautiful word.

Lin Zixi wrapped her arms around Ye Can’s waist, leaning on her shoulder with a laugh. “When it comes to vocabulary, I’ve got plenty of confidence. If you want to hear it, I can find a new way to compliment you every day.”

Lin Zixi thought, starting tomorrow, I’ll shower Ye Can with all kinds of lavish compliments.

Unfortunately, Lin Zixi never got the chance. That very night, she came down with a fever.

It might have been the fierce northern wind—she’d caught a chill during the day—or perhaps the bloody intensity of Ye Can’s scene that day. All night, besides the fever, she was plagued by endless nightmares.

In her dreams, she wandered through thick darkness, trudging through muddy blood, pushing past the clamor of slaughter, until she reached a riverbank blooming with crimson flowers.

She stood by the shore, gazing endlessly at the pitch-black opposite bank. A skeleton clad in black robes poled a small boat back and forth across the water, ferrying the departed.

Whenever the shore fell silent and empty, the skeleton would row over to her and ask, “Miss, care to cross?”

She shook her head, refusing.

Time passed—who knew how long. The skeletons changed shifts, their address for her shifting from “miss” to “madame,” then slowly back to “miss.”

In the dream, time flowed in chaos. Memories blurred; she couldn’t recall how long she’d waited there, or for whom.

Until one day, vague figures appeared along the riverbank. Skeletons poled canoe after canoe, ferrying the shadows to the other side. In the end, only she remained.

Just then, a White Skeleton rowed up beside Lin Zixi and said, “I know what you seek. Come with me.”

Its words held some enchanting power. Without further thought, she boarded the wooden boat with It.

A lantern flickered to life at the bow, piercing the surrounding darkness. She sat primly at the stern, watching the long pole slice through the inky water as the boat sailed into the misty abyss.

In the vast fog, the White Skeleton stood at the prow, its bony jaws clicking as it spoke: “You’ve waited too long over there, so this is an exception…”

“That person… their sins are grave, unrepentant. You’ll never wait for her return.”

She didn’t fully grasp what the White Skeleton was saying, only sensing faintly, I’ll meet her again in the next life…

The White Skeleton cackled. “Someone like her? Straight to the beast realm. No next life.”

Hearing this, she simply gazed ahead calmly and said softly, “It’s fine. We’ll meet at least one more time.”

The White Skeleton poled the boat, shaking its head. “You people are the trickiest.”

The pole splashed through the dark water, and the surroundings gradually turned red. Red everywhere, as far as the eye could see—hiding behind it, countless wails of agony.

She saw long-tongued hungry ghosts lapping at living bellies, a sudden blood rain falling. She saw unpiloted blades slicing living flesh into a thousand pieces.

The sights terrified her; she clutched her clothes tightly.

The little boat pressed on, finally halting before a small mountain of skulls. The White Skeleton tilted its head up, pointing to the peak. “There. She’s right there.”

So she looked up and finally saw the one she’d awaited so long.

It was… her king.

Atop the Skeleton Mountain’s summit, countless swords pierced her body, propping her up high. Ghostly winds whipped at the tattered royal robes, revealing the king’s scarred and battered form.

Countless vengeful spirits, transformed into black eagles, dove down, pecking at the king’s heart. They tore open her chest, devouring the flesh within, only for her body to reform when they departed.

In this endless cycle of torment, the king hung her head, staring down at the skeletons below with a numb, expressionless face.

Seeing the king’s demeanor wrenched Lin Zixi’s heart. She clutched her aching chest and asked the skeleton beside her, “How much longer must she endure?”

The White Skeleton extended a long finger bone, laughing. “Another century.”

She turned to gaze at the king suffering atop Skeleton Mountain, tears welling in her eyes. “A century… that’s far too long.”

The White Skeleton laughed again. “Not long—just one of your reincarnations. If you’re willing… we can make a deal.”

She stared at the White Skeleton, at Its chattering jaws, her mind buzzing. “As long as you remember… we…”

Remember what? We what?

She couldn’t make out the rest.

All that lingered from the dream was that figure, torn by myriad ghosts—etched so vividly.

Gazing at the king’s numb expression wrenched her heart again. In the dream, she woke sobbing.