Chen Mo's pupils narrowed.
Shi Nian looked at him, his smile sinister.
"Little brat, you've got some wits about you. But do you think seeing through this one will let you escape my illusion?"
He raised a hand, and the scenery around them began to collapse.
The palace collapsed, the mountains collapsed, the sky collapsed.
Everything came crashing down.
Chen Mo felt himself falling, too.
Then—
He was standing somewhere else.
It was nighttime this time.
A street, streetlights, an old Western-style house.
It was downstairs from his studio.
He looked down at himself—his clothes had changed back: a casual shirt and jeans.
This was his world.
But his heart sank.
Because Ning Rongrong wasn't there.
He turned and ran into the building. The stairs creaked as he raced up to the second floor. The door to his studio was open.
He rushed inside—
Two people stood in the room.
A thin, weary middle-aged man in the gray jacket Chen Mo remembered. And a gentle, pale woman wearing her favorite floral dress.
They turned and looked at him.
"Mo'er." The woman smiled warmly. "Mom missed you."
Chen Mo stood motionless.
He knew it was an illusion.
He knew Shi Nian had created this false image.
But he couldn't speak or move.
The woman walked toward him, arms outstretched, wanting to embrace him.
"Mo'er, you've been on your own all these years. You've had it so hard."
Chen Mo looked at her.
He had seen that face countless times in his dreams.
He had thought of that voice countless times in the middle of the night.
Her hands drew closer, almost touching his face—
"Chen Mo!"
A clear voice rang out behind him.
Chen Mo whipped around.
Ning Rongrong stood in the doorway, her face streaked with tears, her body covered in blood, but her eyes blazed bright.
She looked at him, then at the woman about to embrace him, and shouted:
"She's fake! It's all fake! Don't believe her!"
The woman's face began to twist, changing into Shi Nian's. He glared viciously at Ning Rongrong.
Ning Rongrong ignored him, keeping her eyes on Chen Mo.
"Wake up!" she shouted. "You promised me! You said you'd protect me! You can't die here!"
Chen Mo looked at her.
At the tears on her face, the blood covering her.
At her tightly clenched fists.
Suddenly, he remembered the night she'd curled up asleep on the sofa. He remembered her tugging at his sleeve as they walked home together. He remembered the way she'd tried to look calm when she said, "I'll protect you from now on."
He smiled.
Then he turned to the "mother" who had become Shi Nian and said, word by word:
"There's one thing you got wrong."
Shi Nian narrowed his eyes.
Chen Mo said, "What I fear most has never been losing someone."
He walked back to Ning Rongrong and took her hand.
"What I fear most is letting someone who's waiting for me wait in vain."
Shi Nian's expression changed.
The scenery around them began to shake violently, as if it were about to collapse.
Chen Mo held Ning Rongrong's hand tightly.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get out together."
Ning Rongrong looked at him. Tears welled up again, but this time, she smiled.
She nodded.
Together, they walked forward.
A faint light seeped through the darkness ahead.
Real light.
When Chen Mo opened his eyes again,
his chest and left arm were in agony, and his whole body hurt.
But at least he was alive.
He turned his head. Ning Rongrong lay beside him, eyes shut, face pale, brow furrowed, her lips murmuring something nonstop.
She hadn't escaped the illusion yet.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Chen Mo reached out and took her hand.
"Rongrong," he called, his voice as rough as sandpaper. "Wake up."
Ning Rongrong didn't respond.
He tightened his grip on her hand and called again:
"Rongrong!"
Her brow furrowed even deeper. Her lips moved, and a small whimper escaped her.
Then she suddenly opened her eyes.
For two seconds, her gaze was vacant. Then it focused on Chen Mo's face.
She stared at him for a moment, then suddenly threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly.
"I thought... I thought you couldn't get out..." She was crying so hard she could barely breathe.
Her embrace made Chen Mo's chest hurt even more, but he didn't push her away.
He lifted the hand he could still move and gently patted her back.
"I'm out."
"We're both out."
Ning Rongrong's tears soaked Chen Mo's neck.
They were warm and sticky, mixed with snot.
Chen Mo lay on the ground, his chest hurting so much that even breathing was hard. He couldn't move his left arm, and he had to use his right hand to pat her back. This wasn't how he'd imagined it would go—he'd thought that once they escaped the illusion, they'd share a smile, say, "It's all right now," then help each other to their feet.
Instead, a twelve-year-old girl was pinning him down and bawling her eyes out.
"All right," he said, patting her back. "It's okay now."
Ning Rongrong ignored him and kept crying.
"That guy... Shi Nian is dead already."
Still, she ignored him.
Chen Mo had no choice but to let her cry.
After a long while, Ning Rongrong's sobs gradually quieted, fading into sniffles. She lifted her head. Her eyes and nose were red, and her face was streaked with tears and blood, making her look like a little cat.
She looked at Chen Mo, sniffed, then suddenly slapped him on the chest.
"You jerk!"
Chen Mo sucked in a sharp breath from the pain.
Ning Rongrong jumped in alarm and quickly pulled her hand back, but then she put on a stern face again. "That's what you get for scaring me!"
The pain left Chen Mo speechless. All he could do was smile wryly.
Seeing him like that, Ning Rongrong softened. She reached out as if to touch his chest, but didn't dare. In the end, she only dared to give his shoulder a light poke.
"Does it hurt?"
"What do you think?"
Ning Rongrong pursed her lips, about to say something, then suddenly stiffened.
Chen Mo saw her expression change.
"What's wrong?"
Ning Rongrong didn't answer. She slowly turned to look behind her.
Chen Mo followed her gaze—
Shi Nian stood there.
No, that wasn't right.
It was Shi Nian's shadow.
A transparent, half-illusory shadow floating in midair, with green flames burning in its eye sockets. He looked at the two of them embracing, the corner of his mouth curling into a strange smile.
"Interesting." The shadow spoke, his voice wavering. "Two little brats actually managed to break my illusion."
Ning Rongrong trembled all over, but bit her lip hard to keep from crying out.
Chen Mo stared at the shadow, then suddenly realized something.
"Your true body is already dead."
The smile on Shi Nian's shadow froze for an instant.
Chen Mo continued, "You're just a wisp of a remnant soul now, sustained by the skull's remaining power."
The shadow's gaze turned venomous.
"Little brat, what do you know?" His voice grew shrill. "I've cultivated for more than seventy years. You think the likes of you can kill me?"
He raised a hand, and the air around them began to warp.
Ning Rongrong instinctively edged closer to Chen Mo.
But Chen Mo didn't move. He stared at Shi Nian's shadow and suddenly said, "You won't last much longer."
Shi Nian's hand paused.
Chen Mo continued, "Your true body has already vanished. Without anything to anchor it, your remnant soul will soon dissipate. This form of yours is nothing but a final struggle."
Shi Nian's expression grew ugly.
Because Chen Mo was right.
He could feel his power draining away, his illusory body fading little by little. He desperately tried to hold it together, but he couldn't.
He looked at Chen Mo, the venom in his eyes growing more and more intense.
"Even if I'm down to a wisp of a remnant soul," he grated out, "it's still enough to kill you two brats!"
He formed hand seals, and the air around them twisted even more violently.
Ning Rongrong screamed, and the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda appeared at once.
But her Soul Power had long since run dry. She'd struggled in the illusion, then cried for ages; she was lucky she could still stand. The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda glimmered faintly, then went dark almost as soon as it lit up.
Shi Nian laughed.
"Little girl, still got any strength left?"
He raised a hand, and an invisible force reached for Ning Rongrong.
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