Goodbye

Lu Yan squinted and smiled. He raised his hand, and from the void behind him, ancient golden chains tore through the air, letting out a sharp, ear-piercing screech. Metal scraped against metal, sounding like something that had slept for far too long being dragged from the depths of the earth. The clanking reverberated far into the snowy night.

Guhan's scalp went numb. A fatal sense of crisis roared in his mind. Having lived for centuries, he had been hunted, cornered, and crushed by experts two major realms higher than him, but he had never felt a terror quite like this. Before he could even clearly see his opponent's move, his body reacted on instinct. He grabbed an Ice Spirit beside him and dragged it in front of him. The Ice Spirit's massive frame acted like a shield, its deep blue ice crystals glinting coldly in the snowy night. He thought it would be enough. But as if possessed by a mind of its own, the chain suddenly veered at extreme speed, as supple as a living serpent. It bypassed the Ice Spirit and lashed heavily against Guhan.

Dozens of chains surged from all directions, wrapping around his wrists, ankles, neck, and waist. His spiritual energy was sealed, his vital energy was sealed, and even his breath was sealed. Suspended in midair like an insect trapped in a spider's web, he could neither struggle nor budge. He wanted to speak, but the chains bound his mouth, allowing him to emit only muffled, incoherent whimpers. Lu Yan looked up at him with a calm gaze, as if looking at a piece of junk about to be disposed of.

“Still trying to block? I can smell the stench of Heavenly Dao assimilation on you from three miles away.” He paused, feeling like something was missing, and added, “Mongrel cultivator.” Respecting the source of inspiration for one's formations was a compulsory lesson for any good formation master.

Guhan's eyes widened to their limits. He wanted to say something, his lips twitching as his throat squeezed out a few tuneless syllables, but Lu Yan didn't listen, nor did he let him finish.

A deep blue pillar of light erupted from the ground. It wasn't fire, nor was it lightning; it was pure energy condensed from spiritual energy compressed to its absolute limit. It engulfed Guhan's body, swallowing the chains wrapped around him along with it. Guhan's body began to disintegrate within the light. Starting from the edges, he dissolved into tiny, fine ice crystals, which then turned into wisps of white steam, dispersing into the snowy night.

Lu Yan withdrew his hand and brushed off non-existent dust from his robe. He looked down at the surging Ice Spirit tide on the ground. Deprived of Guhan's control, they began to scatter, losing all order, tactics, and formation, merely surging toward any sign of life on instinct. He didn't spare them another glance, turning to walk toward the city wall. The snow continued to fall, landing on his shoulders and in his eyes.

Shuangyu did not hesitate to retreat. The moment she saw Guhan engulfed by the pillar of light, her body had already moved backward ahead of her consciousness. She didn't know what methods Lu Yan had used, nor did she know how a blind man could suddenly become like this. She needed time; she didn't want to die here.

The Ice Spirit tide surged behind her like a deep blue wall, blocking the wind and snow, as well as Lu Yan's line of sight.

“Why are you running?” Lu Yan's voice drifted from behind. It wasn't far, sounding as if he were speaking right next to her ear. Shuangyu's pupils shrank violently. Without looking back, she pushed her speed to its absolute limit, her grayish-white robe whipping loudly in the wind. She heard the clanking of chains, a cacophony that seemed to surge from all directions. She waved her hand to condense several ice walls, solely to buy herself some time—enough to run a bit further, just a little further. The ice walls rose in layers behind her, each several feet thick, their surfaces glittering with deep blue spiritual runes. As she fled for her life, she heard the sound of ice shattering. One, two, three—there was no pause, as if they were made of paper. The chains burst through the shattered ice, carrying an aura that did not belong to this era. The judgment of a sinner.

The chains wrapped around her ankles. They crawled up her calves, binding her knees, her waist, her wrists, and her neck, suspending her in midair. Her posture was identical to Guhan's. Her end would be the same. Lu Yan walked up to her, his eyes exceptionally bright, looking nothing like someone who had just killed two people.

“Any last words?” he asked. His voice was quiet, as casual as asking if she had eaten today. Shuangyu did not answer. She knew anything she said would be redundant. She stared at Lu Yan's face, trying to find a single flaw. She found none. His gaze was too calm—so calm it was terrifying. She suddenly laughed, though she didn't know what she was laughing at. She merely laughed like a madwoman, a desolate, sorrowful sound.

“Who on earth are you? You aren't him!”

Lu Yan did not answer. He raised his hand, a pillar of light condensing. “The one who kills you.”

The deep blue pillar of light pierced through the sky, vaporizing Shuangyu. There was no scream, no final words; she simply stared into Lu Yan's eyes until the very end. The pillar of light faded, and Shuangyu was gone. Another life had vanished from the world, yet it brought hope to those who remained alive. Lu Yan withdrew his hand and turned to walk back toward the city wall. The chains vanished from behind him as if they had never existed, his figure receding into the wind and snow.

On the city wall, Du Qi was still leaning against the wall, holding his brush, the tip still dripping with blood. Su Li and Chen San supported each other, barely managing to keep from collapsing to the ground. Yao Wu lay in a pool of blood, his chest rising and falling weakly. Jiang Ci knelt beside him, still clutching a vine in her hand. She looked up, her eyes red, her face wet with a mixture of tears and snow.

Lu Yan squatted down, placed his hand on Yao Wu's chest, and channeled two more wisps of spiritual energy into him. He let out a sigh of relief, turned, and cast another glance at the surging Ice Spirit tide below the city. The dense, deep blue specks of light looked like an overflowing sea. Guhan was dead, and Shuangyu was dead, but this swarm of killing machines remained, knowing nothing but slaughter and consumption.

These Ice Spirits were not soldiers; they were locusts. The city was already dead. The citizens, the garrison, the nobles—those who had fled, those who hadn't, the living, and the dead—were all gone. Shuangyu and Guhan had not brought them here to conquer the city, but to massacre it. Now that the people were gone, this city no longer had any purpose.

Du Qi walked over and stood beside him, looking down at the deep blue tide below the city wall. He didn't speak; he knew what Lu Yan was thinking. Chen San also walked over, drove his axe into the ground beside him, and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Su Li leaned against the battlement, pulling back her scorched tail in silence. Everyone was waiting for him to speak.

Lu Yan stood up and brushed the snow off his robe. The deep blue specks of light below were still surging, still waiting. Who knew how long it would take for them to disperse on their own? A month, a year, ten years. If they didn't leave, the city would forever remain a dead city. He closed his eyes, then opened them. His eyes were still bright, but now they held something else: resolve.

He reached out, his palm facing the Ice Spirit tide below. A formation rose from beneath his feet.

“Goodbye,” he said.

The snow stopped.