Chapter Fifty-Four: The Oriole and the Awakening.

"Little girl, there’s no need to rush off in such a hurry. Besides, even if you leave this place, how far can you really go? The person you’re carrying on your back has lost his soul, yet he’s managed to cling to life until now—a little longer won’t make a difference," Bone Netherworld said, his tone almost nagging, his words a mix of truth and falsehood.

In any case, he had no intention of leaving. When he first saw the Demon Queen Zhou Zhou, his instinct was to flee as far as possible. But now that the Demon Queen had asked him to protect this person, there was a bond between them, and suddenly Bone Netherworld felt he had regained some confidence.

Li Suizhu hesitated as well. By now, they were far from the tunnel, and she could barely remember where the entrance had been. She glanced at Zhou Zhou, who stood not far away—her face composed and calm, and yet somehow, Suizhu found herself unable to approach. The Immortal Realm was truly vast, and she realized she was nothing more than a frog at the bottom of a well in the Qin Kingdom.

Pain seared her back again—had it already swollen? Yet the person she carried seemed to remain fast asleep. Why haven’t you woken up yet?

"I really can’t hold on any longer." In that instant, all the negative emotions flooded the sixteen-year-old girl. The perilous surroundings, the endless array of strangers and formidable enemies, the countless hidden schemes—it was as if she were a tiny boat, tossed helplessly in a storm.

"Please wake up soon, I can’t keep going," Li Suizhu murmured softly.

Seeing her stop, Bone Netherworld assumed his words had done their work and continued, "You might as well wait here. When his soul returns, it’ll be easier to find his body."

Li Suizhu nodded lightly, then sat down cross-legged and laid Wu Yue down, letting his head rest on her lap.

She gazed down at Wu Yue. Her long hair draped over them, veiling both their faces. One by one, her tears fell, dropping onto Wu Yue’s face and running from his nose to his lips—tears like pearls, falling silently. Yet for all her tears, not a single sob escaped her.

Bone Netherworld felt as if his heart had been struck hard. How many years had it been since he’d felt anything like this? He found himself momentarily lost in thought.

Beside them, Twilight looked up at the sky, sand pelting his face from above. He spat it out, his expression complex, a mixture of laughter and anger flickering across his features.

At that moment, two battles—half-formed yet intense—were unfolding in the field.

The first: Tuoba Yu wielded his broken bow, its movements like silver serpents dancing wildly. Song Leizhou, meanwhile, grew braver and stronger with every clash, his resilience mounting with each setback. With just his left fist, he radiated the aura of towering mountains and surging rivers—an air of true mastery. The coarse edge of battle was fading from him, replaced by a subtle, unadorned power, as if he were on the verge of transcending himself.

Tuoba Yu’s killing intent only grew heavier, but he was helpless. At first, he’d held back, not wanting to reveal his strength, yet now found himself reduced to another’s whetstone. Now that he wished to give his all, it was already too late. Song Leizhou, in a state nearing perfect unity of body and spirit, simply accepted every challenge that came.

Tuoba Yu’s five companions wished to help, but their strength failed to match their hearts.

The second battle was far more mysterious.

On either side stood two figures, reciting incantations—words that seemed to shape reality as they were spoken.

Ashu, eager for a swift victory, found himself facing an evenly matched opponent. To make matters worse, the Demon Queen Zhou Zhou stood nearby, making it impossible for him to go all out. Even his most team-savvy subordinate, the Holy Knight, dared not intervene rashly.

"May the light shroud the darkness," Ashu intoned, his face full of compassion. He extended his right hand toward Fan Xiaohua, and a radiant hand of light—much larger than his own—materialized. It seemed a hand of mercy, about to descend upon Fan Xiaohua’s head, yet behind its seeming benevolence lurked boundless killing intent.

At the very last moment, Fan Xiaohua reached to her crown and summoned a thick tome into her hands. Though the situation was dire, she remained unhurried and composed.

Flipping through the pages, her voice rang out, lively and clear: "Let all the myriad sects disperse; fivefold purple lightning, destroy the demons!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, a bolt of lightning split the sky, shattering the hand of light. A second bolt followed, arcing straight for Ashu’s head.

"The god of light is merciful to those who repent, but those who repeat their transgressions shall not be forgiven," Ashu said, bowing his head slightly.

With these simple words, the second and third bolts of lightning vanished in succession. The fourth and fifth never even had a chance to appear.

“If one insists on sinking into darkness, let them receive the light’s punishment.”

With his words, the sky became a blaze of radiance, brighter than the sun itself. The gloomy landscape was suddenly illuminated, casting light all around. Apart from Tuoba Yu and Song Leizhou, nearly everyone was drawn to the spectacle.

"The god of light proclaims: Light should shine upon the world."

Sunlight poured down like the gentle rays of morning—warm, clear, almost tangible in its brilliance.

Fan Xiaohua’s expression grew solemn as she recited, measured and precise: "The heavens birth all things, the Way transforms the heavens. A single flower contains a world, a single tree, a Bodhi."

A leaf drifted through the air, swaying in the curtain of sand. Sunlight caught it perfectly, refracting across its surface.

Elsewhere, Bloodshadow and Song Leizhou’s men eyed each other warily, the tension on the verge of erupting into violence. Yet after half an hour, they remained locked in a silent standoff.

"I need a mirror," Wu Yue said coolly, standing by the window. The white curtains had been drawn aside. The glass—its construction a mystery—remained sealed tight. Outside, the fountain sprayed at intervals. There was neither wind nor sunlight.

At least, Wu Yue had not descended into madness.

He stood there, as if simply admiring the scenery. Am I also a part of someone else’s painting? he mocked himself, lost in idle thoughts.

Time passed. The sky darkened. The curtains were drawn once more.

"What a powerful remote system," Wu Yue muttered, returning to the bed. He gazed down at his pale hands, at the deep lines in his palm.

And so time drifted by, though he had no sense of its passage. He knew all of this was an illusion, but could do nothing about it.

Was it solitude or loneliness—what was it that made existence so hard to endure? He recalled the third inscription at the crossroads.

Suddenly, a bitter taste filled his mouth. Deep inside, a voice called to him—a faint pain twisted in his heart. Wu Yue sprang to his feet; in that instant, his mind was perfectly clear.

"I must never lose myself!"

This world—this white, false world—began to tremble gently.

In the empty tunnel, the sound of a chess piece striking the board rang out.

"Patient in bed seven needs a strong sedative!" Four or five people burst through the door.

Wu Yue pointed a finger—Stacked Fire Technique.

Stack the fire in my heart. Even if the flame is unseen, the smoke will rise.

ps. Third chapter delivered! Haha…