My Name is the End, Calamity Justice.

The light began to spread outward from her chest, every inch of her skin turning into a translucent silver. What flowed through her meridians was not blood, but liquid starlight.

Lin Qingzhou, touched by the silver radiance, felt his body jolt violently. The ink-green toxins rampaging through his system seemed to encounter a natural predator, beginning to shrink back in a desperate retreat.

Yet, the silver light captured every wisp of toxin with precision. The moment they made contact, the poison dissolved into nothingness, like snow meeting a scorching sun.

At the same time, Na'er's body began to turn transparent.

Starting from her fingertips, her skin, muscles, blood, and bones dissolved layer by layer into silver-white motes of light, drifting toward Lin Qingzhou's chest.

Those motes followed a precise trajectory, flowing from his heart down to his Dantian—the very place where a Soul Master condenses their Martial Soul.

A violent, heart-wrenching pain swept through every one of her nerves, but she bit her lip and remained silent. She was afraid of disturbing her brother. She was afraid that if he opened his eyes, he would use his last ounce of strength to stop her.

Strangely, nine-colored soul rings emerged from Na'er, circling around Lin Qingzhou one by one.

She was offering up not just her soul power, her bloodline, and her Martial Soul, but everything that made her the independent existence of "Na'er." Her memories, her emotions, her consciousness, her soul.

There was the love for her brother, the anticipation of waiting for him to come home every day, the satisfaction of eating egg-fried rice, and the sense of safety when he held her after she was startled awake by nightmares. She gave it all to him, leaving not a single shred behind.

Her lower body had already vanished completely. With her remaining arm, she struggled to prop herself up, bringing her lips close to Lin Qingzhou's ear. Her voice was as faint as a candle flame in the wind, yet every word was crystal clear.

"Brother, don't be afraid. Na'er... won't be able to eat egg-fried rice with you anymore. You have to be well..."

As the final syllable fell, her body completely transformed into a sky full of silver motes, falling like a silent star shower onto Lin Qingzhou before slowly merging into his body.

Those dark, bruised wounds healed at a speed visible to the naked eye; the necrotic skin peeled away in flakes, revealing fresh, new skin growing from beneath.

Within his previously gaunt frame, a deep and vast power surged.

Purple demonic patterns appeared on Lin Qingzhou's body, sculpting his physique into a state of perfection, like an ancient Greek god.

His Martial Soul finally awakened, descending with an aura that threatened to destroy everything, as a phantom figure emerged from behind him.

If one looked closely, they would realize it was Lin Qingzhou himself. The phantom spoke slowly, sounding like a demonic god.

"My name is End, Calamity Justice!"

The bloodline of the Silver Dragon King, fragments of the Dragon God's origin—everything Na'er had poured into him with her final sacrifice.

The open Heaven-Swallowing Demonic Art manual turned to its final page automatically.

On the previously blank paper, a line of text slowly emerged: "Sacrifice complete. Sacrificer: Silver Dragon King Na'er. Recipient: Lin Qingzhou. Status: Alive."

Outside the window, the blood mist continued to churn, and the sounds of explosions in the distance persisted.

But in this small living room, everything was quiet. Lin Qingzhou's breathing became steady and powerful, his complexion regained its rosy hue, and the dark, bruised spots had vanished entirely, replaced by silver patterns faintly pulsing beneath his skin.

Yet, he was the only one lying on the sofa.

On the coffee table sat the milk glass Na'er had used that morning, her small blanket was draped over the sofa arm, and her penguin plushie stood in the corner.

Her little duck pajamas were folded neatly on the sofa, emitting a faint, sweet scent. It was as if she had only gone to the bathroom and would walk out on tiptoes at any moment, calling out a soft, "Brother."

But she didn't. And she never would again.

I do not know how much time passed before Lin Qingzhou's eyelids twitched and he slowly opened them.

Deep within his pupils, a faint, imperceptible silver-purple halo lingered—the mark left by the Silver Dragon King's bloodline.

His body had been tempered anew by that power from the ancient Dragon God; every muscle and every meridian far surpassed that of an ordinary person.

More importantly, deep within his Dantian, something was slowly awakening. That space, which had always been empty, finally resonated.

He sat up abruptly, gasping for air, his hands instinctively touching his body—all his wounds were gone. But this wasn't right.

The memories from before he lost consciousness pierced his mind like shards of glass: the ink-green toxin spreading through his veins, the sound of Na'er sobbing and crying out as she threw herself over him, and that voice—so far away yet so clear—I won't be able to eat egg-fried rice with you anymore.

His blood ran cold.

"Na'er?"

He called out. His voice echoed in the empty living room, but there was no response. He stumbled into her bedroom.

The bed was perfectly made, the penguin plushie leaning against the pillow. He searched every corner of the house—the bathroom, the kitchen, the backyard—calling her name over and over, his voice shifting from anxious to trembling, and from trembling to hoarse.

He returned to the living room, seeing the Heaven-Swallowing Demonic Art spread out on the coffee table, the new line of text on the final page, the neatly folded duck pajamas, and the silver motes still scattering on the floor, not yet fully dissipated.

Those motes were dimming one by one, like the last stars before dawn.

Lin Qingzhou's legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees in front of the pile of duck pajamas.

He reached out to gather the fading motes, but they slipped through his fingers, impossible to grasp.

Something scalding fell from his eyes, splashing onto the pajamas, drop by drop.

"Na'er... you silly girl."

He remembered their first meeting on that rainy night, when she crouched on the street corner, shivering, yet desperately trying to suppress her fear.

He remembered the first time she sat across from him, her small hand clutching a spoon as she timidly asked, "Um, Brother, are you going to eat this?"

He remembered how she ate like a starving little beast, devouring the entire table of food until her cheeks were puffed out round.

He remembered her calling him "Brother" over and over in that soft, sweet voice.

He remembered every late night when she was startled awake by nightmares, curling up beside him while he fought off sleep to pat her back.

He remembered the night Di Tian came, when she stood in front of him, her figure so small, yet refusing to take a single step back.

Every image was like a knife mark carved into his bones, slicing his heart into a bloody, mangled mess.

Outside the window, the first rays of dawn appeared, casting a faint light over the city shrouded in blood mist. In the living room, the silver motes finally vanished completely.

And as the boy knelt on the floor, clutching the duck pajamas in agony, the silver-purple halo in his eyes slowly expanded, bit by bit, until it stained his entire pupils.