Ma Xuan Ye narrowed his eyes.A tidal wave of killing intent surged around him.Within the pitch-black soul sea, the black mist writhing around his form sharpened into hooked chains — each one etched with ancient soul-forging runes, like the sickles of a reaper, honed by countless deaths.
"Enough,"he growled, each word hammering into Liu Chen's soul like nails into coffin wood."You refuse to die?Then I shall erase you completely."
With a roar, his divine soul ignited — condensing into a blood-red sun of oppressive light.It swept across the entire soul sea, leaving no room for shadow to survive.
From the heart of that crimson sun, he drew forth a weapon — a blade of pure soul force, shimmering with killing will.
The Severing Soul Bolt.
An ancient forbidden art of soul destruction, wielded only by those who had slain with their very souls.
Without hesitation, Ma Xuan Ye poured his full strength into the bolt — unleashing it toward the last ember of Liu Chen's soul.
"Even a speck of memory... even a whisper of thought... I shall crush it to dust."
The bolt screamed through the soul sea — tearing through the lingering strands of Liu Chen's spirit.
Fragments of memory flickered as they burned:— A mother's tender gaze.— Blood rituals on snow-stained altars.— A flickering fire in a tattered tent.
All of it disintegrated into ash.
And yet — in that final instant — the remnant did not flee.
It charged forward.
Not to survive.
Not to resist.
But to drag the invader into death alongside it.
A last desperate bite, not meant to triumph — but to kill.
But the gap between madness and reality — between willpower and true strength — was laid bare in brutal clarity.
The bite, however fierce, was like dust before a storm.Like fragile paper before roaring flames.
The Severing Soul Bolt pierced through the remnant with no resistance.
A dry explosion echoed at the deepest reaches of the soul sea.
Silence.
The final remnant of Liu Chen — the one that once howled "I will live!" —was burned away into nothingness.
For a moment, the soul sea was utterly silent.
So silent that even Ma Xuan Ye paused — as if sensing that he had extinguished the last ember of resistance in all the world.
"At last,"he murmured, exhaling slowly.The killing intent around him began to dissipate.
But just as those words left his mouth...
A flicker of smoke — a dreamlike image — rose from the depths of the soul sea.
A memory.
Unbidden.Unwilled.A ghost.
One night —amid the howling winds that shrieked like ghosts between the rocks —a young Liu Chen lay curled beside a sputtering fire inside a ragged tent.Small.Shivering.Wrapped in a torn hide — staring blankly at the trembling roof above.
And in his mind —from as early as he could remember —a vision always appeared.
A vision of a colossal city — engulfed in a sea of fire.Of a sky torn asunder.Of crimson light swallowing the heavens in apocalyptic ruin.
He did not understand it.
No one had ever told him of it.No one had ever taught him.No one had ever spoken of such things.
Yet the vision always returned —each time he hovered near death.Each time the cold gnawed at his bones.Each time hunger clawed at his gut.
It was as if something — somewhere — called out to him from beyond memory.
And now —in the moment when his soul should have perished —when all that he was had been reduced to dust —
That vision ignited.
Etched into the very core of his existence — deeper than memory —older than identity.
From that vision —a spark flared.
Not from Liu Chen's will.Not from his strength.
But from something older.Deeper.Something not even he understood.
A surge of primal instinct —like a beast cornered beyond reason —roared silently into the void:
I am still here.
The last ember — hidden at the very base of his soul —did not vanish.
Instead —it was shielded.
Protected.
By something ancient — something that transcended Liu Chen's name, his life, even his fate.
And from the void —a faint, invisible thread of existence wove itself anew.
In the bone-chilling silence of the ravaged soul sea, a tiny flicker rekindled.
No gods saved him.No destiny spared him.No heavens answered his plea.
Only a fragment of memory —like a flame flickering against the winds of death —shielded the final sliver of his being.
And within that moment —the image of the burning city was no longer just memory.
A tremor rippled through the dreamscape —ancient, mournful, carrying the scent of ashes and the cries of the forgotten dead.
Liu Chen's fragment of soul shivered.
He could feel it —the agony of a long-lost era.The fall of a world.
A grief too deep to be named.
He did not know how —but he knew it was not merely a memory.
It was a bond.
An inheritance sealed within him.
Yet just as that awareness stirred —the vision collapsed.
Like water drained backward.Vanishing into the void without a trace.
Leaving behind only emptiness.
Liu Chen trembled.
He saw nothing —but the sorrow, the tragedy, and the fire of that ancient ruin still burned quietly within the final fragment of his soul.
A sorrow not of this life —but of something far, far older.
A tear — unseen — fell within the colorless sea of consciousness.
Outside, in the desolate ruins of the soul sea, Ma Xuan Ye stood unmoving.
He felt no grand force arise.No hidden will awakening.
Only a vague sense that something was wrong.
He frowned.
Liu Chen's spiritual sea should have collapsed completely.The soul severed.The light extinguished.
And yet...
Somewhere.
Faint.Faint beyond perception.
There was still a pulse.
A beat.
Soft as the sprouting of a blade of grass in the desert.
"The soul has been severed..."Ma Xuan Ye muttered, confused.
He reached out — touching the faint mist before him.
He sensed no resistance.
And yet...Something remained.
A stubborn, inexplicable persistence.
"It's not a remnant soul. It's not external force. Then what...?"
His eyes swept across the empty void.
Finding nothing.
Yet the unease within him grew.
Killing intent boiled up once more.
Not from anger.
Not from fear.
But from cold, calculating instinct.
"He's still alive."