The candlelight in the Angel God Temple flickered, its golden glow shimmering on the cold, white jade floor.
Qian Renxue stood beneath the statue, her fingertips tightly gripping the white feather with burn marks hidden in her sleeve.
The feathers were slightly cool, yet subtly warm in my palm. A faint, pure, and gentle aura of light slowly seeped into my soul through my fingers.
Scenes from the dense forest outside the city replayed repeatedly in my mind.
She should have drawn her sword, vanquished Asura evil spirits, and personally killed the son of her enemy.
But she sheathed her sword, couldn't bear to hurt him, and countless uncontrollable ripples stirred in her heart.
Even during their confrontation just now, she absurdly felt that Tang San, who was full of murderous aura and possessed the Asura Divine Power, had a dazzling light hidden in his eyes.
Deep within his soul, the dark red divine aura that had altered the divine decree had long since faded, but the lingering sense of disorder and tearing remained clear and piercing.
The will of the ancestral god, twenty years of faith, hatred etched into her bones, and her emotions that had just been forcibly twisted—all clashed together, shattering her mind and spirit.
She looked up at the angel statue above her with its eyes lowered. The stone's texture was solemn and unchanging throughout the ages, seemingly compassionate towards humanity, yet cold and devoid of any warmth.
Why?
From childhood to adulthood, she adhered to the rules, followed traditions, gave up everything, and obeyed orders without ever overstepping her bounds or harboring any selfish desires.
Why is it that in the end, we can't even control our own loves, hates, joys, and anger?
Endless confusion and chill surged up, pulling out all the past events of her life that had been buried deep within her heart.
The loneliness and grievances she had deliberately forgotten and suppressed all surfaced at this moment.
Her life seemed to have never been filled with a moment of peace and warmth.
My earliest memory is of the perpetual desolation of the Pope's Palace.
From the time she could remember, she didn't understand what maternal love was.
While other children nestled in their mothers' arms, playing and frolicking, she could only carefully hold the Martial Soul tales she had copied by hand.
Or perhaps she had collected beautiful flower petals for a long time, tiptoed to the Pope's Palace, and awkwardly tried to please her high and mighty mother.
At that time, she was still young and ignorant, unable to see the deep hatred and gloom hidden in Bibi Dong's eyes.
They do not understand that their birth is an appendage of sin, a mark of humiliation.
All she knew was that she was Bibi Dong's daughter, and she longed for even the slightest bit of tenderness and recognition from her mother.
But every time I tried to get close, all I got in return was indifference, disgust, or even harsh rebukes.
"Don't bother me."
"Stay away from me."
"Your appearance disgusts me."
The cold words, like fine ice needles, pierced her young heart.
She yielded time and time again, acted cautiously time and time again, only to be disappointed time and time again.
Over time, she learned to be silent, to be obedient, and to remain calm and composed, neither sad nor happy.
She silently told herself: It's because I'm not good enough, I'm not strong enough, that I don't get my mother's favoritism.
If I am good enough and fit the Angel Inheritance well enough, one day she will take a second look at me.
This small obsession sustained her through her innocent childhood, but it also kept her living in loneliness and isolation from beginning to end.
Motherly love was the first thing that was completely missing in her life.
As they grew a little older, the second warmth also vanished abruptly.
The tragic news of his father Qian Xunji's death spread throughout the entire Spirit Hall.
Everyone told her that it was Tang Hao who had ruthlessly attacked, severely injuring the Pope and tearing her home apart.
Tang San is the son of her father's killer, and her mortal enemy.
Before she could even process the pain of losing her father, she was engulfed by an overwhelming wave of hatred.
She never even truly experienced fatherly love; she only longed for motherly love, thus completely losing the right to have it.
My home is completely gone.
From then on, her life was devoid of warmth and affection, filled only with the glory of the Spirit Hall, the responsibility of the Angel lineage, and the hatred etched into her very bones.
With her childhood over, what awaited her was endless training and extremely strict constraints.
Her grandfather, Qian Daoliu, was the only person in the world who would protect her, but this protection was always mixed with heavy responsibilities and expectations.
He taught her the righteous path of angels, taught her to distinguish between love and hate, taught her to eradicate evil completely, and taught her the destiny and responsibility of being a descendant of the Qian Clan and Angel Inheritance.
He provided her with shelter, but never gave her a childhood.
Other people's childhood is a time of playing, laughing freely, and being carefree.
Her childhood was a cold Angel Stairway, a daily tempering of Soul Power, pages of thick Angel Clan, and an unyielding self-discipline.
She cannot be willful, weak, cry, or have even the slightest childish spoiledness.
From the moment she awakened her Six-Winged Angel Martial Soul, her life was labeled.
The Angel Inheritance, the future pillar of the Spirit Hall, and the only hope for the Qian Clan clan.
All ego, all preferences, all selfishness must yield to this destiny.
She persevered through gritted teeth, striving to become stronger, all to prove herself, to live up to her grandfather's expectations, and to honor the Angel's Glory.
But in the stillness of the night, the emptiness and loneliness in my heart never dissipate even a little.
Later, at the age of nine, she completely abandoned the person she was called " Qian Renxue ".
With a single plan and a mask, she traveled to the capital of Heaven Dou, transforming into Xue Qinghe.
The mask was so thin and seamless that after wearing it for over a decade, her original appearance gradually became blurred.
She portrayed a myriad of characters in the deep palace of Heaven Dou, from a gentle crown prince to a respectful minister and a refined prince, handling every aspect flawlessly.
Millions of people are watching " Xue Qinghe," but no one knows that beneath that exterior lies the reserved and aloof Qian Renxue.
Countless nights, she sat alone before the bronze mirror, gazing at a face that wasn't her own, and softly asked: Who are you?
The bronze mirror remained silent; no one responded.
She could only comfort and support herself over and over again:
Once she has passed the divine test and ascended to the divine throne, all her suffering will have a way out, and she will finally be able to be her true self again.
But for the first time now, she felt lost.
Without the Angel God Trial, without inherited destiny, stripped of all identity and mission, who exactly is Qian Renxue?
After a life of ups and downs, the only thing that broke through all her numbness and constraints was that figure in the sunset.
Before the gates of the Heaven Dou Royal Academy, as dusk settled, a white-haired youth stood quietly in the afterglow.
He neither knelt, flattered, nor submitted. He disregarded her status as crown prince and was not afraid of her Martial Soul power. He simply raised his eyes calmly and looked directly at her.
That was the first time she felt a flutter in her heart. Someone could actually see through layers of disguise and see Qian Renxue hidden behind the mask.
Later he gave her the answer.
Whether you choose or not, you are still you. That's what I believe in.
He did not recognize Crown Prince Xue Qinghe, nor the Angel Inheritance, nor the future deity.
It was just her.
That's all.
At that time, she was timid and evasive, afraid to answer, afraid to face the strange feeling that was sprouting in her heart.
She recalled the twilight breeze of Ashen Territory, and how he stood silently on the altar, whispering, "I'll tell you after you ask."
At that time, she dared not ask, dared not delve into it, dared not covet that warmth that did not belong to fate.
But now, with the divine decree before him and fate pressing in, all the suppressed emotions in his heart surged forth.
She finally understood the root of her resistance.
What she feared was never the difficulty of the divine trials, nor the perilous path ahead.
What she resisted was the gods forcibly distorting her true nature, compelling her to embark on a entanglement contrary to her true heart.
Her holy light, her origin, her resonance, the only warmth and belonging in her heart, never resided in Tang San, nor in this bizarre game of chess.
Long before they met at dusk, long before the feathers were given as a gift, long before their Martial Soul resonated from afar, her heart had already quietly turned towards that one and only otherworldly light.
The candlelight flickered, its swaying light blurring the outline of the stone statue.
Qian Renxue lowered her head, her eyes quietly reddening, but she bit her lip tightly, not shedding a single tear.
She still revered the gods and dared not presume to believe that divine pronouncements were wrong.
But she knew perfectly well that this time, it was her own heart that made her unwilling to obey.
The night breeze swept through the hall, carrying away the lingering warmth of the flickering candlelight. Her voice was as soft as a whisper, concealing a confusion and secret longing she had never felt before in her life:
"If it were you... would you tell me whether I should listen to this divine decree?"
The hall was empty and silent, the statues remained still, and no one responded to her secret stirrings of emotion and inner struggle.
Deep within the shadows of the palace gate, Qian Daoliu stood silently, gazing at that solitary, frail golden figure. His eyes held a deep sense of vicissitude and sorrow, but he remained silent.