A flash of light swallowed Yin Long's world. He was too slow. His seconds were longer than a second, he was stronger than ever before. But in the end, he was too slow. That bright green flash, that beautiful light, it was the mark of his failure, the scar of his weakness.

It didn't bring with it a terrible explosion or a horrible rumbling as it tore open the earth. No, all it brought with it was a scorching wind and a terrible silence, a silent scream with no voice or words, a scream of suffering with no source.

What a terrible heat, what a horrible burning. Yin Long had never felt a sensation like this before, he felt like he was burning alive. The fire scorched his skin, cracked it like dried leather and used the cracks to slither into his body. Tongues licked across his flesh as they rose, his skin bubbling as it melted and subsequently ballooned due to the warm air rising from the fire. Bones cracked and nerves sizzled as they were fried.

Yin Long was burning. No. No, right now he was fire. His being was fire, his existence was suffering, and like flames dancing across wood, he burnt ever brighter as he suffered. Was he screaming? He couldn't tell, the fire swallowed even his words, his sounds. All that came out of his mouth was the roaring of fire, the crackling of sparks. He suffered, but he was fire. He was fire, so he suffered.

The green light eventually faded, taking back the burning wind that turned him into fire. But the suffering remained, what was once fire could never go back to being anything else. But with the light fading and his eyesight returning, he found something else to take his mind off the suffering of fire. Yes, he found a much greater source of suffering he could drown in.

There was nothing in front of him. A scorched landscape where a handful of plants started to grow in the places where a trace of the green light lingered, that was what greeted him, that was the suffering he had created. No Jin Wang. No Lang Ru. No Lang Huo. No Fang Yau. No Lan Yun. Only an empty landscape devoid of the warmth he was used to, only suffering.

In this hellish landscape, there were only two people. Yin Yu and Starblood's manifestation. The manifestation was on the other end of the scorched landscape, clearly far more wounded than it was previously. But honestly, that entity barely registered in Yin Long's brain, even as it slowly started to stride towards them. No, his attention was now almost fully drawn to Yin Yu, the only thing he had left here.

She was facing him, her back shielding him from the scorched land and the approaching Starblood. She was a beautiful woman, her extended training sessions resulting in a small tan covering her body. So why was she so pale now? Why did she look almost as white as paper, only a few charcoal black marks creeping up from the back of her neck adorning her with some colour?

Her sapphire blue eyes, flickering like the endless sky, why were they so dim and dark, covered by a murky sheen? Her silky hair, tied into a black ponytail that reached her buttocks, where had it gone? Why were there only a few strands left right above her forehead? Why? Why was there steaming blood trickling out from her mouth?

"Ah...Ah..."

Her mouth opened, perhaps to provide Yin Long with an answer, an answer he already had, an answer he didn't want to accept. But no words came out of her mouth, only smoke, rising to the sky, her silent scream.

She looked down at him, at his burnt figure. Ah, what a shame it was. That silver hair that shone like the moon in the night, it had burnt away. Eyes as dark as the night, as powerful as obsidian, they had become like charcoal. She failed. She wanted to protect him. He was the first to ever give her a choice, the first to ever protect her. She wanted to do the same for him, but she failed.

She could feel it, death approaching. It wasn't Starblood. No, she would be dead before he arrived, she could feel it. Death. Such a scary and painful thing, such a horrible sensation. How many times had he felt it? When they trained, how many times had he died? As he lived, how many times had he died? How many times did he have to suffer, enveloped by this horrible sensation?

"Ah..."

Ah, what a sad thing it was. He had lived like that, yet he smiled. He fought like that, yet he smiled and moved forward, always to the next battle. Ah, what a sad thing it was. Why couldn't she have been at his side, even if it was just to lighten his load a little? Why couldn't she be there to bear at least some of that suffering?

Her legs gave out and she crumbled to the ground, falling into his grasp. Had he raised his arms because he wanted to catch her, or was it just an unconscious action? She didn't know, but she was happy either way. So carefully, so gently, he held her like she was a treasure that would break from just a breeze. How nice, how calming and peaceful this was. If it was like this then she felt like she could fall asleep even while Tao Tiankong chased them, even while death approached.

She felt something sticky on her back, beneath his gentle palms. It was pulsating, moving in tune with her breathing. Ah, were those her lungs? She was surprised that they had survived the heat, she thought they would have turned to ash along with the rest of the flesh on her back. What luck that they were still good, what luck that she could still draw breath.

She placed her hands on his shoulders. Sturdy shoulders that never faltered, sturdy shoulders that guarded her against Tao Tiankong. So weak they had gotten, so low they had sunken. Ah, how badly he must suffer right now, how horrible he must feel. Lost, he lost it all, in a single breath. What a sad fate.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

She put all her remaining strength into her arms to lift herself from his arms. She couldn't even remember when she last felt like she used this much strength, when she last felt this weak. But thanks to her efforts, she was finally face-to-face with him, one pair of murky eyes meeting burnt charcoal, suffering meeting suffering. And then she leaned forward and gave him her lips.

Burnt flesh, scorched copper, thick smoke. What an unpleasant taste her first kiss brought with it, what a horrible sensation it was when dried and cracked lips met each other, rupturing further with small pangs of pain. What a horrible sensation, what a horrible first kiss. But what a sweet first love it had been, what a sweet taste of freedom it had been. She separated from his lips and locked eyes with him again. She pushed her lungs, her burnt throat. Smoke came out of her mouth, but she had to squeeze out the words, it was now or never.

"Ah, I loved you."

It was... Painful to admit, but she was a bit happy right now. Lan Yun, she had bloomed without being able to say anything in the end. The last thing she got to say was that she would become someone useful to him, what a sad set of last words. But she, she got to say what she wanted, she got to pour out her heart, even if it was only this once.

Her arms lost what little strength was left in them and she fell forward, her head landing on his burnt chest. Her vision quickly darkened as her eyelids slid shut, the taste of smoke and scorched copper still lingering on her lips as she breathed her last, finally honest in the end.

Yin Long's hands were wet. He could feel it, and now see it. Yin Yu's back was entirely gone, her spine so scorched that it was amazing that it even still functioned. Her lungs were on full display from behind, a smoky black layer covering them as they laid there, their silence so loud that it hammered against Yin Long's scorched ear drums.

Dead. Dead and gone, every last one of them. They gathered around him, they chose to help him, and he killed them all. He had killed many people in the past, but never had he felt like his hands were stained with blood. Life was easy, life was light, that was just how it was, you lived and died. But now, now his hands felt more stained than ever before, now they felt heavier than ever before.

The weight of life, the weight of trust, why couldn't he have felt it earlier? If he had felt it earlier, couldn't he have done something differently? Couldn't he have saved them all? Could he have grown stronger fast enough to not be stopped by a mere manifestation? Could he have grown strong enough to be faster than Starblood's Netherworld energy? Why? Why did he have to learn so late?

"I told you. The price I paid was more than expected, but I warned you."

A voice reached him as he looked at his own hands, as he looked at the ruined corpse of the woman who used her last breath to pour out her heart to him. His eardrums were so scorched that they barely worked, but he could hear that voice clearly. But he didn't raise his head. His gaze remained on his hands, on the woman who gave her life to buy him just a sliver of time, who gave her life for that minuscule chance that he could escape.

But she had failed. He could feel it in his soul. The golden sword, the cyan blade, the fractured silver one, even the swirly black sword, all of them had vanished. He died in that flash of green light, he died multiple times so his soul ate his swords to keep him alive. Now he only had two left, only the two who gained a sliver of sentience remained. But Starblood was right in front of him, the two last swords would vanish in no time when he attacked. He was weakened drastically, but Yin Long was already at death's door, it would take nothing to push him over the edge.

He touched upon his soul and drew them out, a pitch-black sword landing in his left hand and a dark blue one landing in his right. He couldn't even lift his arms as they landed in his grasp, they combined with the weight of the blood and brought his arms to the ground, helplessly laying there.

Foo..oood?

Is this where the next trip will be?

The thoughts of the two blades reached him, they had been in his soulsea so they didn't understand the situation, they were only able to slowly take it in after he brought them out. He held them dearly, his soul seeping out from his body to surround the blades, to lock them up.

And then he cut them away. He tore away the string that connected them to him, the knot that tied together his soul with the bits used to form the sword. Without that knot, the pieces of his soul around them would just become ownerless energy. They would retain their shape, just like a corpse's energy retained its appearance even as time passed. But they would no longer be tied to him, they would no longer shatter for him even if he died.

Sorry. No more trips, no more food. I hope... I hope you can find someone else who can treasure you, don't just fade away. But maybe... just maybe... I'll find you again one day, when I'm more worthy.

He tapped into what remained of his Qi, he was still connected with the fractured space around him so he could easily influence it. Teleporting here would be very hard, but taking advantage of the fractured space to open a tiny little hole? Oh, that was more than easy with how space here was broken. So he did just that, he opened two small holes in the space and pushed his weapons into them, hopefully sending them to a brighter future.

"Really. Already at death's door thanks to your own actions yet you're still willing to waste energy just to send away some weapons. Exactly what I said, Yin Long. Too caring."

Starblood's voice reached him again, this time from right in front of him. He saw a foot reach forward to push aside Yin Yu's corpse, but he held the body close so that it couldn't be separated from him. He still didn't raise his head, looking at the two holes as they closed up.

"They gained sentience... Thanks to me. They are my children, and I will not let them fade here."

They weren't just swords, his weapons had never been. And those two, they were special above all others. They had gained sentience, will, they were as alive as he was. And they had gained it through him so they were his children, and he would not allow even his children to fade away here with him, he would have at least that much strength, as pathetic as it was.

He looked down at his hands. He couldn't even see the burns on them, all he saw was blood, crimson blood that should never have been spilt, the weight he should have realized sooner. What a monster he was, what a horrible being he was.

Something buzzed in his ears from the hairpin that had miraculously stuck to his robe, Hongzai was probably trying to speak with him. But he couldn't hear her. Would she be angry at him, for being so weak? Would she be sad for his fate? Or would she try to comfort him, would she try to help him turn his suffering into a blade to scratch the world? He didn't know. Now, now there were a lot of things he didn't know.

He used one hand to hold Yin Yu's body close and brought the other one to his throat, his fingers resting on the base of it as his Qi started to move. Many things he didn't know, but some others he did know.

"Starblood. I will curse your name, your existence. My hands are stained and heavy. One day, one day I will wash them with your blood. Be it when you sink below or when I crawl back up."

Curse the man, curse the name, curse his own weakness. He had to curse all three things that resulted in him ending up like this, all alone. He had never been lonely like this before, he felt like he was cut off from the rest of the world. It was like he was in his crumbled world again, but this time it was his prison. Droplets of Qi all around him, each of them reflecting only him. He was alone, his hands had cut away everyone else around him.

Would he ever get his revenge? He didn't know, he didn't even know if he would arrive in the Netherworld like he did last time, fully conscious. But he had to curse, he had to do at least that much for those who weren't reflected in his lonely prison.

He still didn't raise his head to look at Starblood, the only thing reflected in his eyes was his own prison and the corpse that gave him its heart. He could feel Starblood start to move, but he had no intentions of letting Starblood do as he pleased. The Qi in his fingers moved, a small blade growing from each fingertip, digging into his own flesh.

His already burnt throat was rent, pierced through by his own blades. He had killed all those close to him, those who chose to trust and help him, it was only right that he did the same to himself now at the end. His consciousness darkened as he felt himself fade. There were no swords to save him this time, no one to take the fall for him, no pills to drag him out from the Netherworld. Just this once, he would properly die, just like he should.