Illusionary Realm Heart Demon (Part 2)

Chen Mo's pupils constricted.

Shi Nian looked at him, his smile sinister.

"Little brat, you're somewhat interesting. But do you think that by seeing through this one, you can walk out of this old man's illusion?"

He raised his hand, and the surrounding scene began to collapse.

The palace crumbled, the mountains crumbled, the sky crumbled.

Everything was falling downward.

Chen Mo felt himself falling as well.

And then—

He was standing in another place.

This time, it was night.

Streets, streetlights, old Western-style houses.

It was downstairs from his studio.

He looked down at himself—his clothes had changed back to a casual shirt and jeans.

This was his world.

But his heart sank.

Because Ning Rongrong was not there.

He turned and ran toward the building. The stairs creaked; the second floor, his studio, the door was open.

He rushed in—

Two people stood in the room.

A middle-aged man, thin and weary, wearing the gray jacket from his memories. A woman, gentle and pale, wearing her favorite floral dress.

They turned around and looked at him.

"Mo'er." The woman smiled, a very gentle smile. "Mom missed you."

Chen Mo stood where he was, motionless.

He knew this was an illusion.

He knew this was a facade created by Shi Nian.

But he could not speak, nor could he move a step.

The woman walked toward him, reaching out her hands, wanting to embrace him.

"Mo'er, these past years, you've been all alone. You've suffered so much."

Chen Mo looked at her.

That face, he had seen it in his dreams countless times.

That voice, he had recalled it in the dead of night countless times.

Her hands drew closer and closer, about to touch his face—

"Chen Mo!"

A crisp voice came from behind him.

Chen Mo turned his head abruptly.

Ning Rongrong stood at the doorway, her face covered in tears, her body covered in blood, but her eyes were terrifyingly bright.

She looked at him, then at the woman who was about to embrace him, and shouted:

"It's fake! It's all fake! Don't believe her!"

The woman's face began to distort, turning into the face of Shi Nian, who glared viciously at Ning Rongrong.

Ning Rongrong ignored him, staring only at Chen Mo.

"Wake up!" she shouted. "You promised me! You said you would protect me! You cannot die here!"

Chen Mo looked at her.

He looked at her tear-streaked face and blood-stained body.

He looked at her tightly clenched fists.

He suddenly remembered that night, the way she curled up on the sofa and fell asleep. He remembered her tugging on his sleeve as they walked all the way back. He remembered the look of feigned composure in her eyes when she said, "I'll look after you from now on."

He smiled.

Then he turned, looked at the "mother" who had transformed into the likeness of Shi Nian, and said word by word:

"You got one thing wrong."

Shi Nian narrowed his eyes.

Chen Mo said: "What I fear most has never been loss."

He walked back to Ning Rongrong and took her hand.

"What I fear most is making those who wait for me wait in vain."

Shi Nian's expression shifted.

The surrounding scene began to shake violently, as if it were on the verge of collapse.

Chen Mo held Ning Rongrong's hand, gripping it tightly.

"Come on," he said, "let's get out together."

Ning Rongrong looked at him, tears welling up again, but this time she smiled.

She nodded.

The two of them walked forward together.

In the darkness ahead, a sliver of light faintly filtered through.

Real light.

When Chen Mo opened his eyes again.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest, a sharp pain in his left arm, and pain all over his body.

But fortunately, he was alive.

He turned his head to look; Ning Rongrong was lying beside him, her eyes tightly shut, her face pale, her brows furrowed, and she was murmuring something incessantly.

She had not yet emerged from the illusion.

Chen Mo gritted his teeth, enduring the intense pain, and reached out to take her hand.

"Rongrong," he called to her, his voice as raspy as sandpaper, "wake up."

Ning Rongrong did not respond.

He squeezed her hand tighter and called out again:

"Rongrong!"

Ning Rongrong's brows furrowed even deeper. Her lips moved, and she let out a whimper.

Then, she snapped her eyes open.

Those eyes were vacant for two seconds before focusing on Chen Mo's face.

She froze for a moment, then suddenly hugged him, holding on with all her might.

"I thought... I thought you wouldn't be able to get out..." She sobbed, gasping for air.

Chen Mo's chest hurt even more from her embrace, but he didn't push her away.

He raised his only mobile hand and gently patted her back.

"We're out."

"We're both out."

Ning Rongrong's tears smeared all over Chen Mo's neck.

They were hot, mixed with snot, and sticky.

Chen Mo lay on the ground, his chest hurting so much that even breathing was a struggle, his left arm was immobile, and he still had to use his right hand to pat her back. This scene was not quite what he had imagined—he had thought that emerging from the illusion would involve the two of them sharing a smile, saying "it's alright," and then helping each other stand up.

Instead, he was currently pinned down by a twelve-year-old girl who was crying like a fountain.

"Alright," he patted her back, "it's over."

Ning Rongrong ignored him and kept crying.

"That guy... Shi Nian, is already dead."

Still no response.

Chen Mo had no choice but to let her cry.

After a long while, Ning Rongrong's sobbing slowly quieted down into hiccups. She lifted her head, her eyes red and swollen, her nose red, and her face a mess of tears and blood, looking like a little tabby cat.

She looked at Chen Mo, sniffled, and suddenly slapped him on the chest.

"You jerk!"

Chen Mo gasped in pain.

Ning Rongrong was startled and quickly pulled her hand back, but immediately put on a stern face: "Who told you to scare me like that!"

Chen Mo was in too much pain to speak and could only offer a bitter smile.

Seeing him like that, Ning Rongrong's heart softened again. She reached out as if to touch his chest, but didn't dare to make contact, finally settling for a light poke on his shoulder.

"Does it hurt?"

"What do you think?"

Ning Rongrong pursed her lips, wanting to say something, when she suddenly stiffened.

Chen Mo saw her expression change.

"What's wrong?"

Ning Rongrong didn't speak, only slowly turning her head to look behind them.

Chen Mo followed her gaze—

Shi Nian was standing there.

No, that wasn't right.

It was Shi Nian's shadow.

A transparent, semi-illusory shadow floated in mid-air, green flames burning within its eye sockets. It looked at the two of them huddled together, the corners of its mouth pulling into a sinister grin.

"Interesting." The shadow spoke, its voice drifting and indistinct. "Two little brats, actually able to break through this old man's illusion."

Ning Rongrong was trembling all over, but she bit her lip hard, refusing to let herself scream.

Chen Mo stared at the shadow, suddenly remembering something.

"Your physical body is already dead."

The smile on Shi Nian's shadow stiffened for a moment.

Chen Mo continued, "You are nothing but a remnant soul now. You're only maintaining your existence through the residual power of your skull bone."

The expression in the shadow of Shi Nian turned venomous.

"Little brat, what do you know?" His voice grew sharp. "This old man has cultivated for over seventy years; how could you possibly have killed me?"

He raised his hand, and the air around them began to distort.

Ning Rongrong instinctively leaned closer to Chen Mo.

But Chen Mo didn't move. He stared at Shi Nian's shadow and suddenly said, "You won't last long."

Shi Nian's hand paused.

Chen Mo continued, "Your physical body has already dissipated. A remnant soul without a vessel will scatter very soon. This form you're in now is nothing more than a final struggle."

Shi Nian's expression turned hideous.

Because what Chen Mo said was true.

He could feel his power ebbing away, his illusory body fading bit by bit. He tried desperately to maintain it, but he couldn't.

He looked at Chen Mo, the venom in his eyes growing thicker.

"Even if only a remnant soul remains," he said through gritted teeth, "it is enough to kill you two little brats!"

He formed seals with both hands, and the air around them distorted even more violently.

Ning Rongrong let out a sharp cry, and the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda instantly manifested.

But her soul power had long been overdrawn; after struggling in the illusion and crying for so long, it was a miracle she could even stand. The light of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda was dim, flickering out the moment it appeared.

Shi Nian laughed.

"Little girl, do you still have any strength left?"

He raised his hand, and an invisible force surged toward Ning Rongrong.