Even a long time after Lady Yue leaves, Lan Xiaohui remains deeply affected by the two visitors she had. No, not just those two visits; everything that has happened thus far is on her mind, in one way or another.

Her long journey to this point has been filled with many twists and turns, though the one that she expected the least was meeting Wu Yulan, followed closely by meeting Yun Fei.

In this dark cell, it seemed as if those strange shadows that have been lurking in her heart had all retreated into the corners, about to disappear entirely. Those shadows belonging to Yu Shun, who would soon disappear from this world. At least, so she hoped.

One of them would disappear.

Though she faced death many times — once with absolute certainty — her heart was never at this much peace. Even Wu Yulan — as deviant as she is — never felt peaceful being close to death; only excited.

For the first time, in a few years at least, Lan Xiaohui felt like she could breathe. Even the outcome seemed less important than this moment of freedom and peace.

Likewise, for the first time in years, she allowed herself to cry. She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t happy.

She was just relieved.

Gradually — extremely slowly — that feeling of freedom and peace became smaller and more distant with each passing hour, until it was nothing more but white noise in the background of storming thoughts.

By the time her cheeks have dried, and she finally sighs, I decide to intervene.

“What is the matter?” I ask.

Lan Xiaohui sniffles and glances over her shoulder to the corner of the room where I am leaned against the wall. “It’s just that I feel like this will never end,” she says.

“Explain,” I tell her, as my form hovers into the air and floats toward her waiting embrace.

“They will never let me kill Yu Shun,” she says. “I have a feeling that the elders will intervene.”

It is a reasonable assessment. Yu Shun is the future patriarch of the sect; naturally, they would never let him die.

“Even if I manage to defeat him, which might not even be possible for me,” Lan Xiaohui continues explaining her thoughts, “They will certainly interfere, even if it means they will lose face.”

Her logic is sound and reasonable, and I have nothing to add.

“It will just continue, won’t it?” Lan Xiaohui asks. “I will never be good enough. No matter how fast I run after him, he will always be out of reach. No matter how strong I become, it will never be enough to kill him. He will always loom over me.”

“It’s the Heart Sacrifice Sutra,” I tell her. “It is twisting your thoughts.”

Lan Xiaohui’s heart trembles at my words.

“You were in the Qi Condensation realm not that long ago. Now you are almost in the peak of Core Formation,” I explain. “You cannot catch up to him? If you had another few years, he would be so small compared to you, you wouldn’t even be able to see him.”

“You are right…!” Lan Xiaohui exclaims, albeit quietly. I don’t know whether it is true that the [Heart Sacrifice Sutra] can affect her thoughts, but a white lie can’t hurt her if it helps her overcome her doubts.

At the end of the day, Lan Xiaohui is still just a nascent person; even her personality is barely developed. It is not that strange for her doubt to overcome her convictions, though, I did not think that would be possible. After all, her convictions are extremely solid.

Perhaps there is truth to what I told her about the [Heart Sacrifice Sutra].

“I don’t know if I have it in me to wait another few years…” Lan Xiaohui whispers. “Every time I got this close, it has been ‘in another year’. I don’t even have that much time. If I don’t kill Lu Long too…”

“What if you could kill Yu Shun, without a doubt?” I ask.

Lan Xiaohui frowns. “If I used Dead Flowers, Everlasting Moon, I am certain I could kill him, but…”

But she would also die.

“But I don’t want to disappoint Wu Yulan,” Lan Xiaohui says, then chuckles. She never voices the thought that makes her chuckle, but I can guess what it is. Her life isn’t her own anymore, even though she tried her best to make her heart as empty as it could possibly be.

That is why the thought of having only twenty years left to live doesn’t bother or scare her; she already considers herself to be dead. Merely a ghost animated by her desire for revenge. Or so she thought.

Now, she too has things she can’t afford to lose.

“There is another way,” I tell her.

“Fractured Sword?” Lan Xiaohui asks, lowering her head. That same feeling of not good enough returns.

So that’s what it was. That is what is bothering her.

“I still can’t use it,” she says, voice even quieter. “It feels like it is always just out of reach. No matter how hard I try to grasp it, it just falls through my fingers.”

All that talk of chasing Yu Shun, being in his shadow, and never being able to catch up to him — it wasn’t about Yu Shun; she was reaching for me.

The shadows in her heart are me.

It was the same way in the Pagoda of Introspection, and it likely will forever remain that way. Unless…

For a brief moment, my sentient core feels sorry for Yu Shun, but I cannot echo that sentiment.

Yu Shun, I need you to die to trick my owner into letting go of her perceived inferiority.

“I can make sure that you can wield the Fractured Sword,” I tell my owner. “But it will come at a heavy price.”

Lan Xiaohui blinks, then swallows. She remembers all the costly prices she already paid, so it is no surprise that her tone quivers when she asks: “What is… the price?”

“If you are lucky, your gold core,” I tell her.

“And if I am not lucky?” Lan Xiaohui asks, tightly wrapping her arms around me.

“All your martial arts, and your entire cultivation.”

I don’t need to be able to peek into my owner’s heart to know that my statement makes her ears ring.

After a long moment of silence, she finally speaks. “That is it…?” she asks. “Only my martial arts and cultivation?”

“That is it.”

Technically, she could also die, or be unable to cultivate ever again, but that is only if she is really unlucky, or I am very wrong.

“How…?” she asks, but as if anticipating my answer, she is already undoing the sash on her dress, in order to — unnecessarily — give me access to her gold core.

“The gold core I gave you is created from the principles of the Fractured Sword martial art; the advanced laws of space are the reason why it is so small — it is being crushed by its own gravity,” I explain, but I doubt Lan Xiaohui understands a word I am telling her. “That is also the reason why you can create sword energy with the same laws of space, but not able to the martial art; it is not small enough.”

“You held back for my sake…?” Lan Xiaohui asks.

No, I did not know that this would turn out this way. Other than that, if I did use more of the dissociated laws of space from [Fractured Sword], not only would the process have killed her ten times over — like it almost killed Wu Yulan — but the gravity of her gold core would’ve crushed her internal system.

[Fractured Sword] is simply not meant to be used by cultivators below the Nascent Soul Ascension realm, and in the time we have left, there is no way for me to help her cultivate to that stage — and even if she did, it would take another several months just for her to get used to the new realm of cultivation.

“Do you remember, shortly after we met, you said you wanted to stop being Lan Xiaohui and become someone else?” I ask her, though I doubt she needs convincing.

She nods.

“This is what this is,” I tell her. “After you use the energy generated by that core, it will collapse into itself and disappear. All your martial arts, all your cultivation, will likely disappear with it. You will be reborn. After you use that sword, Lan Xiaohui will cease to be and your journey will come to an end.”

My words have such a profound effect on her, that she is stunned speechless for several minutes. I cannot even tell what she is thinking or feeling.

“It will… really… all come to an end…?” she finally asks.

“Yes,” I reply. “What do you want? Do you want it to finally be over?”

Once more, tears slide down her cheeks.

“I… I do,” she stutters, crying more than speaking — even more than she cried just a few hours earlier. This time, it is not the illusion of relief, but the very real taste of it. “But…”

“But?” I ask.

“If I… if I lose it all, right after I kill him… won’t they just… kill…”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I reassure her.

My words please her more than I anticipated, because those few tears that follow my statement are more out of mad joy than relief.

“Then please help me… be free...” she whispers, allowing her dress to — once again, unnecessarily — slip off her shoulders.

“When you wake up, it will be the last time you will be Lan Xiaohui,” I tell her, perhaps to encourage her, though I am not certain why.

Lan Xiaohui smiles. “In that case, can you do one more thing for this Lan Xiaohui?” she asks.

“What is it?”

“Can you say my name one more time…?”

What a foolish girl.

Maybe after this, once she clears her path of the shadows and insecurities, she will finally consider herself to be my owner and my master.

I can only hope.

“Lan Xiaohui,” I transmit telepathically, attempting to make the words sound warmer, though I have no concept of warmth — the same as these creatures do.

Lan Xiaohui giggles. “Whether I am Lan Xiaohui or Zhu Xuelian, in this life or the next… Yaoyue, I will always be yours.”

With those words, she impales me through her chest — though I pierce through her spiritual vessel — and grants me access to her internal systems.

Without hesitation, I form a sword through [Fractured Sword] and blow a massive hole through her gold core.

Her agonized screaming echoes through the room, and even as she writhes like a dying snake, she still holds onto me, hugging me to her chest, unwilling to let go.