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墨書 Inktalez
In the "Lost Dream of No Return," the "Water Prison" ripples with countless black patterns.
" An Wusheng " struggled to move his hand, then opened his eyes. A sliver of light appeared above the "Water Prison," small and narrow, resembling a very deep well.
Soon, footsteps echoed above him.
" An Wusheng."
He leaned against the cold stone pillar, looking up, but he could not make out the face that stood there, shrouded in darkness, its expression unreadable.
"Qingchou, you have changed."
He stirred the water, pressing his face against the stone wall, trying to make his voice clearer for her to hear. "If you hate me, just kill me. Don't use that ghostly hypnosis anymore. The people of Yao Hai are too weak to bear such soul-controlling magic."
Qingchou stood with her hands bound, looking down at the depths of the "Water Prison."
It was indeed ironic; after ten years of not killing him, now at the end, she clearly intended to hollow out his heart but ultimately could not bring herself to do it...
It seemed she would never be able to kill him in this life; she could only trap him in the "Lost Dream of No Return," granting him eternal torment.
As for hypnosis, she did not need him to interfere.
" An Wusheng, are you afraid? This place may very well be where your remaining life comes to an end. There is not a glimmer of light; all that exists is endless darkness and cold."
Darkness and cold? For ten years, which day had not been like this? She simply could not see it.
An Wusheng fell silent. From the moment he let go, he had already prepared himself for a dead end, so how could he still be afraid?
"Qingchou, do you still... hate me?"
After a long silence, An Wusheng finally asked.
He clasped his hands together and gently tapped on the iron pillar, a secret between him and her: three short taps followed by two long ones, meaning "don't be afraid."
Years ago, remnants of the Sea Demon had captured her and imprisoned her in a place of torment. He came to rescue her, enduring countless humiliations from the dark hands that reached out to her, holding her tightly in his embrace.
He told her that three short taps followed by two long ones were their secret signal. From now on, wherever she was, as long as she heard that sound, it meant An Wusheng was coming to save her.
He had once been high and mighty, but that night, pressed against her body, he allowed those disgusting people in the place of torment to have their way with him.
Such a proud and invincible person had actually knelt for her.
Suddenly, tears welled up in Qingchou's eyes. She struggled to hold back her sobs but couldn't help but choke on her emotions.
She was born in the Lost Dream of No Return and had learned the Dream Soul Technique since childhood, gathering the purest hearts in the world and doing all she could to comfort others. But one day, she discovered that more and more people were having their homes destroyed by a man named An Wusheng, who killed friends and family—her own brother included... She told herself that she must take revenge for them.
But how could she fall in love with such a wicked man?
How could she?
"An Wusheng, how many people have you killed? Can you even count them? I just want to ask one thing: do you still say you have no regrets?"
An Wusheng's eyes froze, and he collapsed onto the cold water below. The damp moss wrapped around his arms, sliding up his face along the back of his feet, making him gag involuntarily.
His pale face became even more striking in the darkness. "If I said that the Northern King is not dead, would you believe me?"
Qingchou suddenly froze, as if restrained. She wanted to ask him what he was talking about, but her rationality shattered. Suddenly, she seemed to go mad, holding her head and rolling on the ground, her hair a wild mess like a beast.
Slowly, she released her grip, and a clear flute melody emerged from beneath the water.
An Wusheng followed that single ray of light and swam upward, finally grasping Qingchou's hand just as he broke through the surface.
She lay there, her eyes dim like a desolate wilderness, causing him an inexplicable heartache.
He set down the Soul-absorbing Flute and held her in his arms, gently stroking her face with his fingertips. "You've lost your way, Silly Girl."
If he hadn't been prepared and taken the Soul-absorbing Flute from Misty Manor to fight her again, he truly didn't know what kind of brutal battle Yao Hai would have faced.
All his pride and dignity faded before her. An Wusheng held her tightly; it was a wounded expression he had never shown in thousands of years of wandering in Yao Hai.
"No one can use your hands to hurt me, Qingchou. I would be sad too."
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