Chapter 43

After Taihe’s left hand was severed, they barely saw each other for a few days. Tanyin didn’t notice anything unusual about him and even began avoiding him more when he mentioned he would be forming a bond with Han Nu.

Scenes shifted rapidly: one moment, Taihe was alone inside, stroking his severed arm; the next, he was outside with Han Nu clinging to his arm like a victor, as he announced his bond with her in front of Tanyin.

After Tanyin left in sorrow, Taihe’s body dissolved into countless threads, which Han Nu gathered into her hand.

So, it was all a lie.

Tanyin suddenly felt like laughing.

So much had happened without her knowledge.

What she took for granted was actually a complete tragedy.

Taihe’s soul had long dissipated, and his body had been perfectly preserved for five thousand years only because it was sealed in the Divine Crystal.

How many times had she stood before the Divine Crystal, reminiscing about his smile?

How many times had she sighed at the sight of his empty left hand?

Perhaps she had even blamed him for selfishly choosing to sleep, leaving her to wait alone for so long.

He said nothing, and no one told her.

No one.

Stupid man.

But then, wasn’t she a foolish woman?

“…You waited five thousand years, pushing me to descend to retrieve Taihe’s left hand, just for this day?”

Tanyin asked Han Nu in a low voice, but she still didn’t answer.

The truth was already clear.

Tanyin’s feelings for Taihe weren’t enough to cause her to undergo the human tribulation, and revealing her demonic nature too early wouldn’t benefit Han Nu either.

So, she tormented her, made her suffer, and chose the perfect moment to deliver a fatal blow—she had indeed succeeded.

Tanyin pulled off her gloves, no longer needing them.

Her forearms had already turned into transparent particles of light, and soon, it would spread to her upper arms, shoulders… Then, like Taihe, her soul would dissipate.

Behind the transparent barrier, Taihe’s body was sealed within the Divine Crystal. His left hand had already started to disappear.

She had mistaken the scattering divine power for the exhaustion of divine power from a wound, and quietly sealed his divine body.

The empty Taihe Hall was silent, but soon another figure appeared before the Divine Crystal—Han Nu. She looked up at the flawless, massive Divine Crystal as if admiring a painting, then smiled and said, “I don’t believe you’ve just fallen asleep, Taihe. Where is your consciousness hiding?”

She acted as if playing hide-and-seek, walking around Taihe Hall, softly calling, “Taihe, where are you hiding? Come out.”

Tanyin felt a chill down her spine.

The gentler Han Nu’s voice and smile became, the stronger the feeling grew.

She slowly crouched down, tightly covering her ears.

She didn’t know if she had the courage to witness the rest of this.

Taihe’s consciousness slowly emerged from behind the Divine Crystal.

His expression was blank, his eyes cold and guarded like shattered ice as he looked at Han Nu.

She smiled so widely her eyes narrowed, “I knew it. How could you sleep peacefully?”

Taihe quietly watched her and suddenly spoke, “You’re strange.”

“Oh?” Han Nu was surprised, “What’s strange?”

Taihe slowly smiled but said nothing.

Han Nu curiously asked, “What exactly is strange about me? Is it that I care too much about Wushuang? Or that I kept getting between you two? You were harmed by Wushuang, and now you blame me? Do you suspect I did something?”

Taihe said indifferently, “I just meant that your consciousness fluctuations are strange. You said all that—is it out of guilt?”

Han Nu rarely showed an embarrassed and angry expression.

She had preemptively asked so many questions, which indeed revealed her guilt.

Perhaps everything had gone too smoothly before, making her arrogant.

Taihe turned his head and said, “It seems you’ve meddled quite a bit in my and Tanyin’s affairs.”

Han Nu didn’t answer.

She slowly stepped back, seemingly wanting to leave Taihe Hall.

With a “crack,” her heel suddenly stepped on a piece of thin ice.

Han Nu’s expression froze, and she stopped moving.

At some point, Taihe Hall had been covered in ice.

The bluish ice spread from her heel up her calf, freezing her in place.

“Trying to run?” Taihe’s consciousness appeared before her, staring at her coldly.

“Han Nu, your consciousness fluctuations are a sign of demonic transformation. You’re very strange.”

Han Nu forced a smile, “Oh? Did you just realize it, or did you know all along? Seems you’re more useful than I thought.”

“Don’t forget, I’ve killed more demons than you’ve ever seen gods,” Taihe said, gently touching his empty left hand, his voice low, “I knew that after I fell asleep, you’d definitely come. Now that you’re here, don’t think of leaving.”

“What can you do without your left hand?” Han Nu asked, confidently.

Taihe waved his long sleeve, and thick ice instantly engulfed her body, “To deal with you, I don’t need my left hand.”

Han Nu’s body was sealed in Tianhe’s ice, unable to move. Taihe, looking somewhat tired, turned around, intending to summon the gods.

Suddenly, he heard a cry from behind the hall.

It was Tanyin’s voice.

“Taihe?!” Tanyin rushed in, panic-stricken.

She was shocked to see the hall covered in ice and Han Nu frozen like a statue. “What happened? Han Nu… this…”

Taihe gently said, “Don’t worry, just wait a moment.”

Tanyin anxiously stopped him, “What’s going on? Why did you attack Han Nu? Don’t you like her?”

Taihe smiled bitterly, “Are you that stupid?”

Tanyin was stunned, unable to speak for a long time.

“Let’s talk later.”

Taihe smiled at her, as if remembering something, and then asked, “Can you break open the Divine Crystal? I don’t need to sleep anymore.”

“Don’t need to sleep anymore?” Tanyin foolishly repeated his words.

Taihe took up a brush, controlling it with his consciousness as he began to write a summoning decree for the gods.

“Yes, I’ve woken up.”

“But,” Tanyin mumbled, slowly approaching him, “I think it’s better if you sleep a little longer.”

Taihe turned around, startled.

Before him was a massive embroidery, with dark and blood-red colors intertwined, filled with ghostly shadows.

Countless transparent hands reached out from within, pulling and wrapping around him, trying to drag him into the embroidery.

Tanyin’s innocent and childlike smile appeared behind the embroidery, her gaze eerie, “Keep sleeping; sleep here with me, Taihe. I’ll keep you company.”

The embroidery flew up like a living creature, wrapping around his consciousness.

Everything was so sudden and bizarre that Taihe, completely unprepared, was pulled into the embroidery, disappearing without a trace.

The frozen Han Nu collapsed, turning into countless threads, which Tanyin gathered back.

Threads moved on her face as well, soon peeling away to reveal Han Nu’s delicate features.

She put the embroidery back into her sleeve and glanced back at the hall covered in ice.

A slight smile appeared on her face—a victorious smile. All the light vanished, plunging the void into deep darkness.

Han Nu’s ghostly voice echoed from all directions, “You were right. I’ve been waiting for this day for over five thousand years. Wushuang, you had to die for me to pass the human tribulation. You’re too much like her, and I was trapped by this past, unable to break free. Today, you died by my hand. If I had been caught by you, then I would’ve died by yours. Between people, it’s always a matter of life and death. So, don’t hate me. Hate yourself! Hate this world!”

No one spoke anymore. The smell of blood and thick smoke filled the air, overwhelming everything.

This was a world of despair.

Tanyin stood up, dazed, as the pain of her burning soul grew more intense. Her hands could no longer maintain their shape, and transparent fragments fell like rain.

She walked forward slowly, each step illuminated by a golden light.

She knew she would die here, in this small world.

Taihe had died here as well.

What had he been thinking in his final moments?

Did he have any regrets?

Did he hate her?

As these thoughts crossed her mind, illusions began to emerge around her.

Taihe, trapped in the embroidery, struggled desperately.

She could even hear the clear sound of his soul being torn apart as he died.

He called her name over and over again, sometimes gently, sometimes with despair.

What had she said the last time she saw Taihe?

In their final meeting, she had hidden behind a pillar, watching as his eyes turned red, listening to him say, “I once hated you.”

What had he been thinking at that moment?

“Tan..Yin, Tan..Yin…” His voice called out to her again, an unstoppable sound that reached deep into her soul.

She had once loved Taihe, felt heartbroken because of him, and had waited for him.

But she never imagined that one day he would make her feel such despair, a despair deeper than death itself.

Was she about to be annihilated?

Was this human tribulation?

She was going to die here, not by Yuan Zhong’s side—that might be her last regret in this world.

Her legs could no longer move.

They shattered into fragments of light, and Tanyin collapsed to the ground, her face pressed against the scorching earth.

It was hot, and it hurt, but she couldn’t move anymore.

In a daze, she felt as if she had experienced a similar scene before—a burning floor, a small blue pond by the bed, translucent carp, and the thin, fairy-like girl beneath layers of curtains.

That’s right, that little girl had even helped Han Nu’s body quickly transform into a human form, whether for good or ill; she couldn’t tell.

Sealed memories flooded her mind, but at this moment, remembering everything, all she could do was smile bitterly. Successfully passing the human tribulation would make her a primodial god, but in the past five thousand years, no god had survived the trial.

Naturally, she would be no exception.

It was too late to think about this now.

Perhaps quietly dissolving into nothingness in this desolate world was the best outcome.

Tanyin closed her eyes.

The searing pain of the tribulation was about to reach her heart.

Let it all end quickly.

“Tanyin, Tanyin…” Someone was calling her again, but she could no longer tell whose voice it was.

It sounded like Taihe, his gentle laughter when they first met by the milky way; it also sounded like Yuan Zhong, who held her tightly, whispering in both joy and despair, “I love you.”

Tears rolled down her face, and suddenly, everything before her turned pure white.

The scorching ground and the black-and-red sky disappeared.

It felt as though she was lying on an endless snowy plain, with snowflakes silently falling like willow catkins.

A hand gently stroked her head.

Tanyin struggled to look up and saw Taihe’s smiling face.

His figure was faint and ethereal, like a shadow drawn with bold strokes of ink. He smiled as he gently touched her hair, pointing towards the south with his other hand.

In an instant, he was gone, and so was the snowy plain.

The fiery, black-and-red world returned.

Was it a dream?

Not a dream?

Tanyin looked down at her hand; a single snowflake remained on the back of it, still unmelted.

She looked towards the distant south, where she could barely make out mountains and villages.

Gritting her teeth, Tanyin gathered what remained of her divine power, shielding her heart, and drifted southward.