The wind at Jialing Pass carried the scent of lingering smoke and blood as it swept over the silent Heaven Dou Army. Lin Zhixia stood beside Tang Hao, her gaze fixed on Tang San in his arms—the blue-gold divine robe was soaked in blood, the wound in his chest still bore the black traces of Rakshasa's evil power, and his once-brilliant eyes were tightly shut, utterly devoid of life.
Xiao Wu knelt nearby, both hands tightly clutching Tang San's hand, her knuckles white from the force. Her tears fell soundlessly, dripping onto the back of Tang San's cold hand as she murmured "Little San" over and over. Her voice was so hoarse it was nearly unrecognizable, and grief engulfed her like a tide, even the glow of her soul skills dimming as though about to go out.
Lin Zhixia's fingertips trembled slightly as silver-violet star power silently gathered and dispersed in her palm. The flames of vengeance burned fiercely in her heart. Bibi Dong's sinister smile and the sight of the Rakshasa Demon Scythe piercing Tang San's chest replayed in her mind again and again, each time wrenching her heart like a blade. She knew all too well that from the moment Tang San fell, there had been no turning back from this vengeance.
Not far away, Bone Douluo slowly approached, carrying Gu Zhinian's body. The wound from the Starfall God-Locking Shot remained on Gu Zhinian's chest, the traces of stardust burns not yet faded. His face was pale as paper, and he had long since stopped breathing. That cold body was like a thorn driven viciously into Lin Zhixia's heart—it was the arrow she had fired herself, the bond she had severed with her own hands. Yet as she looked at him now, it felt like the greatest irony