Chapter 127: Withered Heather

The holy sword, the ice needle, and the scythe—every attack aimed at Manluo successfully struck its intended target, seemingly bringing the imminent prospect of Manluo’s total annihilation into view.

The holy sword pierced through the mist, casting a brilliant, iridescent glow that gradually settled back into a pure golden hue. As gentle as sunlight yet concealing immense lethality, the blade gently sank into Manluo’s torso, solidifying the small body into gold.

Following closely in the wake of the light, the ice needles rapidly pierced Manluo’s limbs. Blue, and at times faintly turning black, freezing qi surged madly, flooding into his limbs and swiftly devouring his vitality. Dead silence slowly eroded his extremities; the tender white flesh withered away, life was severed, and death descended.

The scythe, swung first of all, was not the first to arrive; on the contrary, it was the last, the longest in coming, and the most despairing. Slowly tracing a trajectory of death through the air, it descended upon Manluo’s head.

As the saying goes, the head is the seat of human spirit and the dwelling place of the soul. The Grim Reaper’s scythe drifted effortlessly through Manluo’s head, harvesting a faint cluster of white light—evidently Manluo’s soul.

Everything happened in absolute silence. There was no dazzling brilliance, nor any roar akin to a cosmic explosion. At that moment, the Misty Inn fell utterly still. Only the Grim Reaper’s scythe remained, slowly dragging a cluster of white light farther and farther away, as if pulling it down toward an endless abyss.

……

All the strange phenomena slowly faded away. Manluo’s body fell lightly, landing steadily on the floor of the main hall of the Misty Inn. Golden holy light and black freezing qi still roiled across his body. His slightly opened eyes lacked all luster, and a closer look revealed that his pupils had dilated completely. He looked as dead as dead could be.

"Just like that... it’s over?" Luo Hanhai slapped his face in disbelief, turning to ask Macarius beside him, puzzlement in his voice. Everything felt like a dream—so effortless, yet surreal beyond belief.

"That doesn't seem right. It shouldn't be over this soon," Macarius shook his head, rejecting Luo Hanhai’s thought.

"Can he still survive this? Anyone else would be thoroughly dead by now," Stone Silkworm muttered softly from the side.

Luo Hanhai walked up to Manluo, gazing at his cold yet youthful face. For reasons unknown, he felt pity rather than hatred. The sense of unreality welled up in his heart once again. What on earth was his true face? How could he wear so many masks? What an inscrutable fellow he was.

He shook his head hard, banishing all the doubts whose truths he might never uncover from his mind. Taking a deep breath, he began to examine Manluo’s corpse carefully.

……

"How is it?" At some point, Macarius had walked over to Luo Hanhai. Squinting his eyes to scrutinize Manluo’s body, he asked in a still-solemn tone.

"The pulse in his neck hasn't moved for a full minute."

"He has stopped breathing for several minutes."

"His pupils are dilated, matching the condition of a dead person entirely."

……

Luo Hanhai went down the checklist of death symptoms he had read about in the past, one by one. Finally, he let out a long breath and shrugged nonchalantly. "Realistically speaking, this guy is thoroughly dead. Not even immortals could save him now."

"Hah..." Macarius heaved a sigh of immense relief, an expression of gratified relief blooming on his face as if he wanted to say something.

Suddenly, his body stiffened. Observing his surroundings with grim intensity, he spoke in a tense voice: "We were wrong! All wrong! He is definitely not dead yet!"

"Huh? Not dead? What do you mean?" Luo Hanhai looked at Macarius in astonishment, having no idea how he could tell that Manluo was still alive.

"Do you remember what the scene was like after Little Feng died?" Macarius looked straight into Luo Hanhai’s eyes and asked seriously.

"Windflower?"

"Right! Don't you find anything questionable? Logically speaking, we are all transformed from flowers. After everyone dies, they leave behind a flower carrying the power of their origin, including that man in white who also left a flower behind..." Macarius gestured casually toward a corner, only to find that the crystal orchid which had previously been glowing faintly was completely gone.

"Oh no! Watch out for an ambush!" Macarius shouted sharply, startling Manluo and Stone Silkworm. Exchanging a glance, Manluo and Stone Silkworm chose to trust Macarius. The three of them instantly formed a tight circle, standing back-to-back as they scanned their surroundings with acute vigilance.

"That crystal orchid is gone! Manluo didn't leave behind a flower either. He is definitely not dead; he must be hiding somewhere in this room! Be careful not to let him ambush you!"

"You mean..." Luo Hanhai shuddered.

"Old man, you really are sharp. I truly regret not finishing you off first!" Manluo’s voice suddenly echoed from an unknown corner, ice-cold and dripping with a venomous desire to devour flesh and blood.

"You won't get the chance!" Macarius roared, "Radiance of the Divine!"

Dazzling golden light surged out from within his body. Instead of condensing into a beam, the golden light expanded wildly in all directions, illuminating the entire inn hall as bright as day in the blink of an eye.

"Attack!" At Macarius's angry shout, Luo Hanhai conjured a massive block of profound ice out of thin air and hurled it toward the empty corner.

"Ice Crystal Blast!"

"Damn old man!" In the previously empty corner, a somewhat transparent, illusory figure suddenly materialized, shouting frantically in exasperation.

"Let's see where you can run this time!" Fixing his gaze on that figure, Luo Hanhai hurled chunk after chunk of profound ice as if it cost nothing—well... it genuinely didn't cost anything.

"Ahhh! Block him for me!" Tiny flowers blossomed one after another, swaying as they emerged from the void. They were so small as to tug at one's heartstrings, yet their petals were translucent and exquisitely breathtaking. Trembling slightly, they carpeted the entire space in front of Manluo. The sight was magnificent enough to evoke awe, amazement, and deep reverence from the bottom of one's heart...

"Heather! It's Heather!"

The profound ice crashed mercilessly into the tiny, delicate heather blossoms, venting the wrath of the frost.

Under the impact of the cold, the bell-shaped heather flowers emitted a strange sound, resembling muffled sobs. An aura of sorrow drifted alongside the partially opened petals, wringing tears and wrenching hearts.

This was not the first time Heather had been betrayed; arguably, it was already accustomed to betrayal. What it hadn't expected, however, was that this time the betrayal would come from the very host it had chosen—it was tantamount to betraying itself. No pain had ever compared to this; it cut straight to the bone.

The tiny flowers beneath the frost did not last long. Although they naturally grew in polar wastes, this time they could no longer withstand the biting cold.

Born of ice, perishing in ice.

Trembling, trembling, they completely withered, turning into flying snow that filled the sky and melting into the frost...