Su Xiashao was struck by that wave of sorrow in her dormitory.
She was getting ready for bed, with only half her clothes off, when the emotion surged up without warning. It was as if someone had poured an entire ocean into her chest, drowning everything.
She remembered the trial from three years ago.
That year, she had been full of confidence, convinced the whole world lay beneath her feet. Before setting out, she had even argued with Su Qiuzhi and said some truly cruel things.
"You're only capable of this much. You'll never catch up to me in your entire life."
She remembered the look on Su Qiuzhi's face at the time.
Many people had died during that trial. Su Qiuzhi had nearly died too, while Su Xiashao had returned without a scratch after being reassigned to another group at the last minute.
When she returned, she went to visit Su Qiuzhi. She found her lying in a hospital bed. Seeing Su Xiashao arrive, Su Qiuzhi managed to tug the corners of her mouth upward.
"I didn't die. Disappointed?"
Su Xiashao sat by the bed, wanting to say something, but unable to get a word out.
Those memories churned up in the flood of sorrow, as clear as if they had happened yesterday. Her cultivation was slipping away beyond her control.
It wasn't being ripped from her. She was giving it up of her own accord. The sorrow was so real that she almost believed that every beautiful thing in the world would eventually be lost, every effort would ultimately be in vain, and every companionship would end in parting.
Every sorrow she had ever experienced, every loss, every regret she had refused to face in the dead of night—all of it was unearthed as that sorrow drew near,