Chapter Twenty-Nine: On the Brink of Death

Fang Yu’s eyes welled up instantly, tears like broken strings of pearls sliding silently down her cheeks to drip into the dust, stirring up tiny, concentric ripples. Her heart felt as though it had been pierced by ten thousand arrows, shattered beyond any hope of repair. She looked up at that familiar figure—Elder Jian. He staggered, a stark, vivid red overflowing from the corners of his mouth, staining his robes and wounding Fang Yu’s heart. In Elder Jian’s eyes lay nothing but deep reluctance and lingering attachment. He struggled to hold himself up, wanting to speak, yet only weak, labored gasps escaped his lips. Those eyes, once as sharp as swords, were now filled with gentleness and apology, as if he were using his final strength to convey his unspoken wishes and charges to Fang Yu.

Everything around them seemed to stand still, leaving only the sound of Fang Yu’s breaking heart and the fading life force of Elder Jian to compose a suffocating scene.

The Sect Master of the Refining Sect casually flung Yufan aside with his right hand. Yufan struck a temple pillar, his expression contorted in pain as agony wracked his entire body. When Yufan forced his eyes open, his gaze locked tightly onto Elder Jian, who was coughing up blood. Yufan’s voice rang out through the temple, laced with despair: "Elder Jian! Elder Jian!"

Yufan crawled on his knees, rising only to fall again, his eyes brimming with more tears.

Every movement Yufan made was accompanied by searing pain, yet he seemed to have forgotten himself, leaving only an endless worry and attachment for Elder Jian. He struggled forward, his hands leaving mottled trails of blood upon the ground; every attempt to stand was a declaration of defiance against fate. Finally, after countless falls, he relied on his indomitable will to reach Elder Jian’s side, half-crawling, his body trembling uncontrollably from the sheer exertion.

Yufan’s eyes were filled with resolve and grief. He bit his lip to keep his vulnerability hidden, but tears flowed like broken beads, mingling with the blood on Elder Jian’s robes to form a poignant, tragic picture. With trembling hands, he gently stroked the wrinkled yet steadfast face of the elder, as if to etch this moment into his heart forever.

It felt as though Yufan’s body were being torn apart by an invisible force, every struggle accompanied by a wail from the depths of his soul. He knelt on the cold stone floor, the pain in his knees long since drowned out by the despair in his heart. Blood spilled from his lips, staining his clothes and blurring his vision, yet his gaze remained fiercely fixed on the figure of Elder Jian, which was growing increasingly indistinct.

"Elder Jian! Elder Jian!" His cries echoed through the hollow temple, laden with endless sorrow. Yufan’s voice was hoarse and broken, every word squeezed from the deepest reaches of his heart. He tried to prop himself up, his fingers digging deep into the ground until his nails broke, the sound piercingly sharp in the stillness.

The Sect Master of the Refining Sect flashed forward, appearing between Elder Jian and Yufan like a ghost. A cold, cruel smile curved his lips, hiding a profound contempt for all living things.

"You are nothing but ants," the Sect Master said, his voice dripping with disdain. "How dare you stand equal to an ancient being like me?" With a sudden, violent wave of his palm, he unleashed a force of cataclysmic proportions. The air itself seemed to tear, emitting a shrill whistle. Yufan felt an irresistible, gargantuan force shove him aside; he was sent flying like a kite with a snapped string, slamming heavily into the temple wall before sliding to the floor. Blood gushed from his mouth, and his consciousness began to fade.

Elder Jian’s body shuddered under the impact. A flicker of resolve crossed his weary eyes. He turned his head with great difficulty to face the Sect Master, his gaze devoid of fear, filled only with unyielding pride. Yet, the Sect Master’s palm strike ultimately landed with devastating force, slamming directly into Elder Jian’s chest. Elder Jian’s body was struck as if by a heavy hammer, the sheer power sending him flying backward to shatter the stone table behind him. Dust and debris scattered. His eyes slowly closed, a look of release gracing his lips, and he finally fell into silence, leaving only that stark, vivid red slowly dissipating in the air—his final farewell to the world.

The surrounding air seemed to congeal, time freezing in that moment. Only the cold, cruel laughter of the Sect Master echoed in the empty temple, standing in sharp contrast to Elder Jian’s fading life, creating a scene of tragic and heartbreaking beauty.

Yufan knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face, blurring his vision yet unable to wash away the agony in his heart. He reached out with trembling hands, trying to grasp something, but touched only the cold air and scattered dust. Everything around them seemed to have lost its color, leaving only black and white to weave into heartbreaking images before his eyes.

Tears poured out like a burst dam, sliding down his cheeks to mix with the dust on the ground. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms; blood and tears mingled to paint a scene of utter tragedy.

Seeing this, Fang Yu’s last line of defense collapsed completely. She stumbled a few steps and eventually slumped to the ground, weeping across from Yufan.

Her eyes were hollow and desperate, as if all color and warmth had vanished, leaving only endless sorrow and reluctance. Tears like broken pearls fell continuously, merging with the dust on the floor and stirring up ripples that would never again soothe the wounds in her heart.

The two knelt there in silence, tears and grief intertwined to form a heart-wrenching sight, as if the entire world had fallen silent for them.

Her gaze lost its focus, staring emptily ahead. The sword she held in her hand slipped unconsciously from her grasp, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that rang out with piercing clarity in the silent temple. The blade reflected her pale face, mirroring her current state of mind—cold and desperate.