Is it worth it? Xu Xian asked himself one last time. Whether it was worth it or not no longer seemed to matter.
“That’s not how it’s calculated,” Xu Xian said.
The Twilight Emperor seemed slightly surprised. “Oh?”
Xu Xian stood up and walked out of the grotto, step by step.
He left the dim cave, passed through the falling leaves of the locust tree, and stood at the peak of the green mountain...
The wind hitting his face was violent.
Looking into the distance, amidst the vast smoke and dust between heaven and earth, terrifying figures like gods and buddhas were locked in a fierce slaughter.
Roars filled the sky!
Holy blood rained down!
Inside the mountain gate, Wendao Square had already fallen. The flames of war had spread to the Seven Peaks...
Across the Thirteen Halls, the jade buildings and pavilions had collapsed into ruins.
At his side, the black mist that was the Twilight Emperor continued to press him. “If not that way, then how should it be calculated?”
Xu Xian said solemnly, “What I once wanted to save was never a single person or a specific group of people here, but the entire world.”
“Heh...” The Twilight Emperor gave a mocking laugh. A hand formed from the black mist, pointing toward the distant sky. “Is there a difference? Right now, is it not the same—the whole world coming to crusade against you alone?”
Xu Xian glanced at him, and it was only a glance.
Then, he smiled without saying a word.
The world was not simply black and white.
Good and evil.
They were merely different perspectives.
Right now, they had come to attack Wendao. Xu Xian felt hate, anger, and resentment, but to those people, they were not necessarily in the wrong.
Human nature was inherently selfish. It was only natural to seek benefits for oneself and one's race.
If the Sky Gate were to open right now and darkness descended, they would likely turn their sword points to face the darkness, and this conflict would end naturally.
But conflict would always rise again...
From their perspective, Xu Xian thought he would probably do the same.
Years ago, to establish the Sword Tower, had he not also used every means at his disposal—tricks, deception, and scams?
In these people, he saw the shadow of his past, and naturally, the shadow of his future.
If there even was a future...
The Twilight Emperor simply found it inexplicable.
Things had already reached this state, yet he could still smile.
Was he a fool? Or just mindless?
...
“It is time for an ending.”
Xu Xian drew an immortal sword and rode the wind away.
The Twilight Emperor asked, “Where are you going?”
Xu Xian said softly, “To leave no regrets.”
The Twilight Emperor watched the youth's back as he approached the battlefield and couldn't help but mutter, “What a moron.”
Leaving no regrets.
Once you're dead, what regrets could you possibly have?
When a person dies, it is like a lamp going out; everything returns to zero.
Along the way, the little book spirit tried to persuade Xu Xian. “Master, do you really have to fight?”
“Yes.”
“You can't win!” the little book spirit said with certainty.
“Even if I can't win, I must fight.”
“You will die.”
“I know.”
“If you die, will there really be nothing left?”
Xu Xian squinted and smiled. “Is there a difference?”
The little book spirit was stunned.
Xu Xian looked back at the mountain below and said slowly, “If I don't fight, everything will be gone just the same.”
Once the mountain gate was breached and this battle was lost, darkness would descend upon the world. Not a single soul in Fanzhou would be spared.
Whether he fought or not, whether he stayed or left, he could not change that outcome.
Since everything would be gone anyway, what was the meaning of living?
If he failed the heavy trust of his master and lost everything he cherished, even if he managed to survive by some fluke and attained longevity, what would be the point?
He would only be left with a lifetime of regret and a heart full of sorrow.
Rather than living in pain, it was better to fight a satisfying battle.
Until the very end!
The little book spirit fell silent again.
It understood the determination in the youth's eyes all too well.
Its new master was someone with a powerful and righteous will.
On ordinary days, he seemed cynical and irreverent.
But when he set his mind on doing something, no one could stop him, and no one could talk him out of it.
Just like now.
He was going to fight.
Either he would win, or he would die.
There was no other choice.
It could not persuade him.
Xu Xian said to the silent Shuer, “I am someone who has already died once. I am not afraid of death. There is nothing to fear in it.”
The little book spirit only half-understood.
Xu Xian instructed, “After I die, you should go back to sleep. Ten thousand years, a hundred thousand, a million, or even longer... eventually, another 'me' will appear again and wake you up...”
Shuer felt an inexplicable sadness. As a spirit, it suddenly felt like crying. It stubbornly refused. “I don't want that. I only want you to be my master...”
Xu Xian smiled and said gently, “Believe me, this world will never stay the same forever. Even if darkness truly descends upon Fanzhou, there will eventually come a day when it is replaced by light. The changing of dynasties, the rise and fall of species, the succession of eras... it is just like the rising and setting of the sun, or the passing of spring and autumn.”
“Though the night may be long and distant, there will eventually be a dawn when the sun sheds its morning light...”
“Though the pain may be deep and unforgettable, it can also be diluted by time and forgotten in the passing years...”
His voice suddenly stopped. Xu Xian turned his head and looked directly at the little book spirit, smiling as warmly as a spring breeze. “Just as you forgot Ye Wujiang, you will forget me too.”
Shuer bit its lip, its eyes wide, and shook its head violently.
It wanted to say something more, but Xu Xian interrupted.
“Shh!”
The youth made a silencing gesture, and the little book spirit swallowed the words it was about to speak.
Xu Xian requested with a smile, “Say no more. Just stay with me for one last battle, alright?”
The little book spirit was dazed for a moment before gradually coming back to its senses. The sorrow in its eyes faded, replaced by a firm persistence as it nodded heavily.
“Alright!”
Xu Xian withdrew his gaze and looked ahead.
His hand gripped the hilt, slowly drawing the blade.
The corners of his mouth curled into a wicked smirk—the same arrogant confidence that had belonged solely to him in his youth.
He said, “Born without fear!”
“Fighting to the end!”
He charged forward, joining the chaotic battle with his seventh stage cultivation.
His tragic figure was instantly swallowed by the chaotic tide of spiritual energy.
It was like a drop of water falling into a marsh, unable to cause even the slightest ripple.
His appearance did not cause the enemy's assault to weaken. The scales of victory still tilted heavily against the Wendao Sword Sect.
This time, he could no longer do as he had five hundred years ago—Inquiring the Sword against the world to turn the tide.
This time, he was destined to fail.
Just as right now, he was single-mindedly seeking death.
Giving his all, fighting until his strength was exhausted, and leaving without regrets—who cared if the world suffered after that?
The sword strike from five hundred years ago was called Settling Scores!
The sword strike five hundred years later was called No Regrets!
A swordsman, like his senior brother, should be exactly like this!
Life as brilliant as summer flowers, death as quiet as autumn leaves.
I came, I fought, I possessed, I gave my life... it is enough!
The Twilight Emperor hovered in the clouds, watching the mortal world with a single eye, ignoring all the smoke of war.
He watched the youth charge and kill.
He watched the youth risk his life.
He watched the youth burn his very life force.
He watched him dance.
He watched him go mad.
He watched him bathe in the blood of the battlefield.
Once again, he felt a flicker of compassion.
What a fine young man. What an outstanding genius.
If only he could have stood side by side with him, how wonderful that would have been.
He was not made of wood or stone; how could he be entirely heartless, even if this was all a delusion?
Whether it was out of pity for talent or a sense of shared experience, he couldn't say for sure.
He simply felt that Xu Xian should not die like this.
At the very least, he should not die silently, nor should he die at the hands of these pieces of trash.
They were not worthy.
A genius falling at the hands of mediocre fools was the ultimate desecration of talent.
Just as he had fallen at the hands of those fools years ago.
Stirred by the scene, he recited a poem with deep emotion.
“If from the very beginning,”
“You had submitted to me,”
“How would I have come to this?”
“Do not blame me,”
“Blame only your pride, like a plum blossom,”
“Blooming in this long, bitter winter...”
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