Three Years, a Countdown to Death

Yu Youbin was startled by Elder Xu's nearly crazed appearance.

He hurriedly waved his hands, his voice trembling with helplessness. "Elder Xu! Calm down! Listen to me!"

"It is not that I have not done my utmost, nor is it due to a lack of medicinal ingredients... His injury struck at the very foundation—his Martial Soul!"

"Ordinary Elixirs, no matter how precious, can only replenish vitality and stabilize injuries. They cannot rebuild the shattered foundation of a Martial Soul, much less mend that fragile heart!"

He took a breath, looked at Xu Zhaoting's face as it instantly turned ashen, and struggled to speak the cruel truth.

"Even... even if I exhaust every means afterward, use my own Soul Power to nourish him, and support him with the sect's finest life-preserving medicines... he can at most..."

"At most, he can only live another three years. And during those three years, he will likely be able to do nothing but lie there like a living corpse..."

"After three years, his heart channels will wither, and the fragments of his Martial Soul will backlash. His life force will be completely extinguished... There will be no saving him."

"Three... years?"

Xu Zhaoting muttered those two words, as though he could not understand their meaning.

His tall body swayed. All his anxiety, rage, and unwillingness seemed to be drained away in an instant.

With a thud, he collapsed weakly onto the floor, his face as pale as the cold ash beneath him.

His Brain was completely blank.

Three years... A Twin Martial Souls genius upon whom the sect had placed great hopes, someone who might lead its future, had only three years left to live like a living corpse?

How was he supposed to explain this to the sect master, who was in seclusion and had also paid close attention to this child?

How was he supposed to explain this tragedy, which had occurred under the sect's protection, to the entire Body Sect?

A suffocating heaviness seized him. Only Elder Yu's rough, exhausted breathing remained in the room.

Along with Long Zhanye's heartbeat, so faint it was nearly inaudible, beating once after another against the deathly still air...

Half a month later.

Long Zhanye's eyelids trembled slightly. At last, amid the pull of Chaos, he struggled to open them by a narrow slit.

His blurred vision gradually cleared after a long while. What entered his sight was an unfamiliar ceiling and the faint bitter scent of medicinal herbs in the air.

He suddenly remembered something and struggled to sit up, but a tearing pain twisted through his chest. He groaned and fell back weakly.

"Father... Mother... where are you?" His voice was hoarse and dry, like a broken bellows, yet filled with urgency and panic.

The moment the words left his mouth.

A sickly sweetness surged into his throat. He turned his head and spat out a mouthful of dark red clotted blood.

The blood stained the clean bedding, making him feel even more clearly the weakness inside his body—that heart.

Once strong and vigorous, his heart now beat with sluggish heaviness every time.

The slightest emotional stir or attempt to circulate Soul Power would trigger piercing, bone-deep agony.

Elder Xu Zhaoting, who had been keeping watch by the bed, saw him awaken.

He first breathed a sigh of relief, but then an indescribably complex emotion rose in his eyes—guilt, pity, and heaviness.

He fell silent for a moment. Knowing that concealment might only bring deeper pain, he ultimately chose to tell the truth.

"Child..." Xu Zhaoting's voice was low and hoarse, carrying exhaustion he could not hide.

"Grandpa Xu... failed you. That day, I could not protect your family."

He paused, looking at the boy's pale face as it suddenly tightened, then continued, "Your injuries were too severe. Your Martial Soul was shattered, and the foundation of your heart channels was almost completely destroyed."

"Elder Yu exhausted all his cultivation, and he... he could only extend your life. You... have at most three years left."

Three years?

Long Zhanye's pupils contracted sharply, but he asked even more urgently, his voice trembling, "My father... Mother? Where are they?!"

Xu Zhaoting avoided his longing gaze, his Adam's apple bobbing.

His voice was so low it was nearly inaudible, broken and halting. "Child... I am sorry... Your father... suffered more than three hundred fractures throughout his body. His internal organs... were all gravely damaged..."

"We... did everything we could, but his injuries were too severe. There was no saving him... The sect has already... properly buried him in the blessed grounds behind the mountain."

Long Zhanye's body shook violently, his face ghostly pale.

Xu Zhaoting did not dare stop, afraid that if he did, he would never be able to continue. "Your mother... her external injuries were healed, but after she woke up, her mind... seemed to have completely collapsed."

"She did not say anything. She only held your younger brother, who was not yet a month old, and while no one was paying attention... ran away. Her whereabouts are unknown."

"The sect has dispatched many people to search everywhere, but so far... there has been no news."

With every sentence, the light in Long Zhanye's eyes dimmed further.

"And... your fiancée, Miss Xiahou Ling," Xu Zhaoting said with extreme difficulty.

"She... died on the spot. During the cleanup afterward, we discovered that your father had been carrying... a peculiar Soul Tool."

As he spoke.

He turned and carefully lifted a metal object about two meters long and ninety centimeters wide from the side table.

The object was entirely dark silver-gray, its lines cold and rigid. Its shape... resembled a miniature coffin.

Its surface was engraved with intricate soul guidance circuits, emanating a faint cold glow. The moment one approached it, one could feel a chill that seeped into the bones.

"This object seems to possess an extremely cold preservation effect." Xu Zhaoting gently placed the icy "coffin" beside Long Zhanye's bed.

"So... we temporarily placed Miss Xiahou's remains inside it to keep her body from decaying. Perhaps... your father had another use for it, or perhaps it was a gift from the Bright Jade Sect..."

Long Zhanye stared fixedly at the "coffin" radiating cold air, then slowly shifted his gaze to Xu Zhaoting's grief-stricken, apologetic face.

His father had died miserably, his mother had vanished with his infant brother in her arms, her mind shattered, his fiancée had perished, his Martial Soul had been crippled, and he himself had only three years left to live...

This string of cold, utterly cruel news was like poisoned blades, piercing through his already fragile heart.

"Ha... ngh..."

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but could not produce a complete sound.

Overwhelming grief, rage, despair, and helplessness surged like towering waves, instantly drowning all his consciousness.

His vision went black. Unable to draw another breath, his entire body fell backward...

He once again sank into boundless darkness. Only a streak of bloody tears silently slid from the corner of his eye, a shocking sight.

"Child! Zhanye!" Xu Zhaoting cried out in alarm.

He rushed to the bedside in a single stride, his trembling fingers reaching for Long Zhanye's breath and pulse.

All he could feel was that the breath was so weak it seemed about to cease, even more dangerous than before he had fallen unconscious!

"Quick! Go get Elder Yu! Go now!!!"

He roared sharply toward the door, his voice filled with unprecedented panic.

The disciple standing guard outside changed expression at once. Not daring to delay in the slightest, he turned and sprinted wildly toward Elder Yu Youbin's residence...