Chapter 48

The memories sealed within the embroidery by Han Nu were finally drawing to a close.

Light and sound became chaotic and disordered.

From the day she descended into the mortal realm, she had already been destroyed, endlessly struggling between despair and forgiveness.

In her memories, the image of Tanyin sometimes appeared as Ah Chu and at other times transformed into the white-robed goddess—an indescribable blur.

Suddenly, the surrounding light softened and became hazy.

Han Nu had descended to the mortal realm again without their knowledge.

Many years had passed, and Ah Chu was now old and frail, lying on a worn-out bed, her breaths labored and shallow.

Outside it was midsummer.

Vibrant wisteria flowers covered the railing of an unfamiliar village, while children ran and shouted joyfully along the fields. Inside the small wooden house, Ah Chu lay alone, gravely ill, with no one attending to her.

The shrill chirping of cicadas filled the air, echoing her ragged, heavy breathing, creating an oppressive atmosphere.

Han Nu quietly sat beside the bed, gazing down at Ah Chu—the one she had once poured all her love and effort into protecting.

This woman had betrayed her, led her to death, and afterward, her life had been filled with hardship.

Now, at the end of it all, it was Han Nu who was by her side.

“Ah Chu,” Han Nu softly called her name.

In the mortal world, she revealed her divine form and gently brushed aside Ah Chu’s sweat-soaked, graying hair. “Ah Chu.”

In her half-conscious state, Ah Chu opened her eyes, seeing only a figure bathed in a faint, clear light.

She stared in confusion for a long time until fear suddenly appeared on her aged face.

“…It’s you! It’s you!” she muttered hoarsely.

“Have you come to take me away?! Are you here to claim my life?!”

Han Nu remained expressionless and shook her head.

Perhaps due to extreme shock and fear, Ah Chu began coughing violently, desperately trying to shrink back into the bed.

She rasped, “Are you here for revenge?! I’m not afraid of you! I’m not afraid!”

She grabbed whatever was at hand—fan, hairpin, and the like—and hurled them toward Han Nu.

With a light sweep of her sleeve, Han Nu caught all the items in her palm.

Ah Chu’s fear intensified, and her breathing grew more strained, as if she were on the verge of suffocating.

Han Nu placed the objects on the cabinet and, after a long pause, quietly asked, “I’ve always wanted to ask you myself… Ah Chu, why?”

Ah Chu’s voice was weak and intermittent.

“You… you hate me… Why bother saying so much… Just take me away! To the underworld, the mountains of blades, the seas of fire… I’m not afraid…”

“Why did you betray me?”

“I’m not afraid…”

“Why?”

Suddenly, Ah Chu fixed her gaze on Han Nu and smiled with a complex expression.

“Are you asking because you want release? You were wronged, killed by me, trapped by resentment? And now you want an answer to set you free?”

Han Nu fell silent for a moment and then slowly nodded. She had been bound by this cursed fate, enduring the days as if they were years.

She knew well that this mindset was destroying her.

Now, she was begging for release, and only Ah Chu could provide it.

Whatever her answer, it would bring an end to their mortal entanglement.

Ah Chu laughed mockingly.

“Sister, you’re so selfish. All you care about is your own release… I lived my whole life in your shadow, never a single happy day. Finally, when you died, I was abandoned by that man… You want release, but why don’t you think about my release? If it weren’t for you, my life wouldn’t have turned out this way…”

“You were gifted from a young age, spoiled by our parents, while no one cared about me… In the end, they died because of you, and they deserved it!”

Hatred gleamed in Ah Chu’s eyes as memories of her life’s disappointments surfaced.

“So what if you could embroider? Heaven had eyes! It turned everything you made into monsters and demons to harm others! If our parents knew from the afterlife, they’d regret ever loving you! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been bullied all my life. Every time I came home and saw your fake smile, I wanted to tear it apart! I fell in love with Brother Anping, but you had to stand in my way. If you had died sooner, how happy I would have been! I wouldn’t have been cursed by Brother Anping for being heartless! Do you even know how rumors spread later, forcing me to wander the world with my daughter, living a miserable life?!”

Han Nu’s face turned pale.

She spoke quietly, “That… was your own doing.”

“Yes, it was my own doing.” Ah Chu laughed bitterly.

“Didn’t you always pride yourself on being a good sister? Always meddling in my affairs? Weren’t you always putting me first? Why aren’t you showing your grand love now? Why did you come to me? After learning the truth, shouldn’t you still love me and not mind it at all? That would be real love! So, what are you doing now? You can’t find peace either? You hate me? Ha ha ha ha! So you’re just like everyone else after all!”

The sound of the cicadas grew louder and more chaotic.

Han Nu stared at Ah Chu’s wrinkled smile in a daze.

She felt that instead of finding release, she was falling further into an endless abyss.

Her back alternated between chills and heat, and her chest tightened and loosened with each breath.

“I don’t care what you’ve become now—whether you’re a vengeful spirit or a ghost who died unjustly… I won’t let you be free… I… I won’t let you get your way… You want revenge on me, and I won’t let you succeed…”

Ah Chu’s gaze gradually turned unfocused, and her voice grew weaker, “I won’t let you succeed…”

Suddenly, the noisy cicadas fell silent, and a suffocating stillness enveloped the surroundings.

Han Nu abruptly stood up, feeling as though she were losing her mind. She grabbed the frail body on the bed in despair, only to discover that Ah Chu had already stopped breathing.

She had died just like that—her soul now headed to the underworld, returning to the cycle of life and death.

Despite being a goddess, Han Nu could not intervene, and she could only watch as Ah Chu left her behind, alone.

She had watched Ah Chu die peacefully, ending her tumultuous life with a satisfied smile on her face.

Staring at the faint smile on Ah Chu’s lips, Han Nu suddenly let out a scream.

Thousands of threads burst from her body, shredding the aged corpse into a bloody mist.

She collapsed to the ground, her once pale skin peeling away, burned and blackened.

She was back on the pyre—no, she would forever be on the pyre, never able to escape, never able to leave.

The tide of threads consumed everything around her.

The crimson threads, like flames, like blood, filled the space.

The sky was pitch black, the ground an endless sea of fire.

Han Nu was trapped in this small, embroidered world, screaming in anguish.

No matter how radiant and graceful her outward appearance might be, Tanyin knew that this was her true self—forever trapped in this moment, endlessly struggling.

Tanyin recalled how, in the divine realm, Han Nu had once asked her in a sorrowful voice: “What do I do with my hatred?!”

Ah Chu had died, a mortal, entering the cycle of reincarnation.

In her next life, she would have no connection to this one.

No one would ever find her again.

Han Nu’s hatred would remain here, festering, twisting, taking root, and spreading, ultimately spilling over onto innocent people.

This was Han Nu’s tribulation—a trial with no solution.

From the day she became a goddess, all that awaited her was despair.

Tanyin looked around.

The illusion had ended.

All that remained was the swirling black mist of resentment, and at its center, the threads, as red as blood and fire. Inside them, Han Nu wailed, her voice hoarse and sorrowful.

Tanyin had found the crack in this small world.

With her eyes tightly shut, she gathered the last of her divine power, forming it into the shape of giant scissors, and without hesitation, slashed at the threads.

In the blink of an eye, the threads were severed and fell, revealing a bloodied figure beneath.

For over five thousand years, Han Nu’s heart had been trapped on the pyre, burning over and over again.

Her cloudy eyes gazed vacantly into the distance—was she still looking at the small wooden house on the mountain? She was waiting for Ah Chu to return, but what she had received was betrayal.

The intense feelings that had supported her during the flames had now become the very thing trapping her in the fire, unable to break free.

“Han Nu!”

Tanyin called out with all her strength.

The figure on the pyre swayed and turned her head, her eyes meeting Tanyin’s in a daze.

“Ah Chu is already dead!” Tanyin shouted hoarsely, unsure of what to say but feeling the need to speak.

“I’m not Ah Chu! Wake up! It’s been five thousand years! Why won’t you let yourself go?”

There was no response.

Han Nu’s eyes drifted away again, continuing to stare vacantly into the distance.

With a long sigh, Tanyin directed the scissor-shaped divine power toward the figure consumed by flames.

A sound like the tearing of fabric split the air, accompanied by Han Nu’s incredulous scream.

The dark, blood-red sky was torn open by a wide fissure, revealing the bright sunlight of the world outside.

They could leave now.

Tanyin gently touched her wrist, recalling the sensation of dry snowflakes falling in the illusory snowfield.

Even now, the memory of the cold lingered on her wrist.

Taihe, come with me out of here!

The small world was shrouded in eternal darkness, making it impossible to tell time. By the time Tanyin broke free of the embroidered picture, it was already late at night outside.

The sky was dim, with only a few stars accompanying the sparse moonlight. She could vaguely sense that this place wasn’t Mount Xiang, but rather the summit of a familiar yet nameless mountain—the mountain where Han Nu and Ah Chu had once lived.

A gentle night breeze brushed her cheeks, carrying with it a sigh.

“You actually made it out,” came a deep male voice—it was Tang Hua’s voice.

Tanyin’s entire body trembled.

She turned quickly and saw Tang Hua, dressed in purple, standing at the edge of a cliff.

The night wind tugged at his robes and long hair.

He was pressing a sleeve against his chest, and when he saw her looking, he smiled faintly and lowered his arm—revealing a large hole in his chest, where red demonic energy and golden divine power intermingled, pouring out.

Was Han Nu still possessing Tang Hua?

Tanyin floated backward cautiously, silently staring at him in alarm.

What had caused the hole in her chest?

Was it because she had broken the small world?

Could it be that the embroidered picture didn’t just contain Han Nu’s resentment, but also a part of her soul sealed within?

Han Nu glanced down at the hole in her chest, as if with a bitter smile.

“So, you found that place… How did you find it?”

“…Taihe told me,” Tanyin slowly replied.

Han Nu laughed mockingly.

“He hasn’t completely vanished yet? He left part of his soul in the embroidery? I never would’ve guessed his feelings for you were so deep.”

Tanyin said nothing.

Han Nu’s sharp words could no longer hurt her or shake her resolve.

She studied Han Nu, realizing that perhaps Han Nu hadn’t taken over Tang Hua’s body arbitrarily.

There was only one reason—Han Nu’s original body had completely disintegrated.

Her demonic consciousness had lingered, so she had no choice but to possess Tang Hua’s familiar body to deceive others.

But Tang Hua’s body was failing too. Perhaps, in order to better consume Taihe and Tanyin’s souls, Han Nu had sealed a part of her consciousness in the embroidery.

Now that part had been utterly shattered, something even Han Nu herself had not foreseen.
“You’re nearing your end,” Tan Yin said coldly.

“You’ll dissipate before I do, and I’ll witness it with my own eyes.”

Han Nu chuckled bitterly, her eyes filled with resentment.

“Do you hate me that much? Why do you hate me? Haven’t I treated you well? Even in death, you won’t allow me some mercy, won’t let me be free…”

“Look closely. I’m not Ah Chu.”

Han Nu’s lips pressed together tightly, then she suddenly turned and looked down at the sprawling village at the foot of the mountain.

She raised her hand, and with a sweep of her long sleeve, the village was instantly engulfed in flames.

In no time, the mountain wind carried the sounds of screams and cries to them.

Han Nu’s face lit up with a satisfied smile, relishing the sounds.

“I lived here once,” she murmured.

“I hated everything about this place. Now, finally, I am no longer a goddess, and I can personally bring it all to an end.”