CHAPTER 331 SPLIT UP (PART ONE)

"Elsa! Are you okay?" The grief that radiated out from Elsa pierced Callie's heart. She wanted to

comfort her as much as she could, yet she was at a loss for words. The baffled cultivator could not

think of anything better to do except being with her for the moment.

"I am okay. I guess this is just the way life is. Let's go and find Hailey." Elsa gave a bitter smile while

turning her head to look at Callie. She wanted to show her that she had already accepted her fate. At

the bottom of her heart, she just made an unwavering decision.

"You know what is going to happen to Hailey if she won't do that, right?" Callie asked while staring at

Elsa's back.

"I have no clue. But I have seen what I should know. Those visions are enough for me." Elsa stopped

for a second before she continued with her shaky voice. "Callie, can you do me a favor at least? After

Darren and Hailey are done with the act, can you please make up some excuse so that you can take

me to them?"

"Why do you want to put yourself through something like this?" Baffled, Callie asked out of her instinct.

She could not understand Elsa's request. If it was Callie in her shoes, under such circumstances,

wasn't she supposed just to pretend not knowing anything to get through the ordeal of the whole

process?

"I have to find the closure that I need so that I can leave all this behind me." As she uttered those

words, Elsa's voice echoed across the gray surrounding, filled with frustrations. After such phrases

filled with uttermost grief escaped her mouth, Elsa slowly walked out of the hut with her spirits detached

from her body. Callie could sense how miserable she was even when she tried so hard to suppress it

inside her.

Left alone beside the well, Callie grew silent after Elsa's departure. She was heartbroken and was Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

almost as miserable as Elsa. She was obliged to sympathize with the woman's sadness.

On the other side of the palace, even without Callie's help, Hailey's Spirit Power alone was enough to

keep Darren tied and immobilized.

Now that Callie had learnt Elsa's decision, she hurriedly went back and reported to Hailey. Hailey was

relieved to hear the news from Callie. She was not in the position to feel any guilt at the moment. She

knew that what she would be doing would, though it might be wrong in the first place, it would be for the

greater good.

"I am sorry, Darren. I have to do this. Hope you can forgive me," Hailey avowed as she burst into tears.

"Master, I am asking for your permission to request the use of your magical skill." As she declared that,

Callie bowed to the direction of the hut.

Instantly, a light green light shot towards Darren. As soon as the strange force hit him, immediately,

Darren was stunned and could not move any longer. The young warrior was as helpless as a pig about

to be butchered for a feast.

"Hailey, you may take him now." A dry sound came to Hailey, but she chose to remain silent. She wiped

her tears and grabbed Darren with her porcelain-like hand, leading him inside the hut where they could

be more private in performing the ritual.

Lying on a clean and tidied bed, Darren could not look away from Hailey as if he was in a trance.

Though his spirit struggled and wanted to escape, his body was forced to do the exact opposite.

With guided hands, Hailey slowly removed her clothes and let them drop limply on the floor. As the

intercourse commenced, Darren could do nothing but just close his eyes and surrendered to Hailey's

discretion.

The moaning of combined pleasure and pain could be heard from the hut for three full days. Days and

nights passed, and Elsa didn't miss every action and sound that commenced in the lowly hut. Each

sound tore and powdered her heart to pieces.

"It is about time now. The seed of the Heavenly Repression should sprout by now. Callie, you take the

others away from here now." The witcher looked at the indigo light that flickered out of the hut. Waving

his withered hand, the trail formed by his hand developed into a weird pattern, flying towards the

shelter.

As the pattern enveloped the entire hut, sounds of pain and pleasure were as audible as the hooting of

an evening owl. This time, however, the sound felt like that a particular soul was ripped apart—more of

pain rather than pleasure was heard.

Whomp!

A black thunder flashed through the sky, carrying the weight and power that could wipe out every living

soul in this world. It was the Thunder of the Heavenly Repression.

A green light flashed through the witcher's eyes as he caught a glimpse of the thunder. He looked up

into the sky and felt a chilling sensation creeping down his spine.

"Why would there be a force of Heavenly Repression? That was not supposed to happen." The witcher

panicked. He had defended Hailey from the Heavenly Repression once, and now he was way too weak

to do it again for the second time. Desperate, he searched his mind about any witchcraft he knew that

could fool the Heavenly Repression. However, he was still spotted, blanked out, and demoralized at the

turn of events.

His black robe rustled by the waves of the gale. He fixed his eyes on that hut, and then finally

understood the reason why the thunder appeared.

Two strong powers were confronting each other in that hut. The dark gold internal force and purple gold

internal force both shot straight to the air as if the entire space was about to be shattered into pieces.

Not anticipating the incredible scene, the witcher walked over to the hut briskly. His black robe

suddenly expanded and covered the two confronting powers, confining them entirely and not letting

them escape.

He hunkered down in a curved position while floating into the air. Joining the palms of his two hands

together, he began to cast some dark spells to ward off the threat.

Right at that moment, both powers were blocked entirely, and not even a strand could seep through the

witcher's black robe. With that, the black thunder finally dispersed and vanished into thin air. However,

underneath that black robe, the withered body of the witcher was pulverized like sand. He was slowly

descending from the sky like a weightless feather.