Memory Kill

The mental fluctuations released from the Illusion Bell were silent and soundless, piercing through every physical barrier.

This mental wave was entirely different from Hu Liena's Charm.

Charm was an invasion. It was the act of forcibly kicking open the door to someone else's mind and shoving one's own will inside.

Memory Kill was like rummaging through a drawer. It carried no aggression; it simply located the memories buried in the deepest recesses of the target's mind, pulled them out, and laid them bare before their eyes.

When it is your own memory, your own feelings, you cannot tell yourself it is a lie.

The speed of the mental fluctuation was countless times faster than sound. Before Tang Hao's Clear Sky Hammer could crash down, that invisible force had already burrowed into his mind.

Tang Hao's body jolted to a sudden halt.

The Clear Sky Hammer hung suspended in mid-air, less than a meter above Qin Chuan's head.

Tang Hao's eyes changed.

Those bloodshot, murderous eyes lost their focus in an instant. His pupils dilated, his mouth hung slightly open, and the expression on his face shifted from ferocious to vacant.

What did he see?

Memory Kill did not choose its targets. What it unearthed was always the most deeply ingrained segment of the target's heart.

For Tang Hao, there was only one answer.

A Yin.

The images surged forth.

It was not what he wanted to see, but he had no choice but to watch.

A sea of flowers. He did not know what season it was, but the flowers bloomed overwhelmingly—blue, purple, and white, all mixed together. The air was filled with the sweet, delicate fragrance of plants.

A Yin stood in the middle of the flower sea.

She wore a light blue dress, the fabric so thin that the wind pressed it against her body, tracing her slender waist and soft curves. She wore no shoes, her bare feet treading upon the petals, her toes pale and tender.

She turned her head to look back at him with a smile—that smile.

Tang Hao had lived for decades. He had been hunted by countless people, fought to the death with countless powerhouses, and witnessed countless bloody and cruel scenes. But what he remembered most clearly was always A Yin's smile.

Her eyes curved, her lips turned upward, revealing two rows of neat, white teeth. There was a tiny mole on the bridge of her nose, invisible unless one looked very closely.

"Hao, you're daydreaming again." Her voice carried a hint of laughter.

The scene skipped.

It changed to another setting. A simple wooden hut, with rain falling outside the window. A Yin sat by the window, holding a sewing needle, her head bowed as she mended a grey robe.

It was Tang Hao's robe, torn during his last fight, and A Yin had insisted on mending it herself.

Her fingers were long and pale. She pricked her fingertip with the needle, pulled it back, and sucked on it.

"It hurts," she muttered, then looked up at Tang Hao. "If you tear your clothes again, I won't mend them."

Tang Hao remembered what he had said at the time: "Then I'll just stop wearing clothes from now on."

A Yin's face flushed red.

The scene skipped again.

A night with a bright moon. They were sitting on the branch of a large tree, leaning against the trunk. A Yin's head rested on his shoulder, her breathing light and shallow.

Tang Hao did not speak. A Yin did not speak either.

The two of them sat there quietly, listening to the insects, the wind, and each other's heartbeats.

Tang Hao looked down at the head resting on his shoulder. A Yin's hair was long, draping over his arm, tickling him.

Then, all the images shattered. Like a mirror being smashed, the shards fell with a clatter. Within the fragments, A Yin's smiling face, A Yin's eyes, and A Yin's voice were reflected. The more they shattered, the more there were, and the faster they fell.

Until finally, it all turned into darkness.

In the darkness, only one sound remained.

A Yin's voice.

"Hao, wait for me to return."

Before this, when Qin Chuan unleashed his Fourth Spirit Ability, he had shouted, "Everyone, run!"

Yue Guan froze for a second. He saw Tang Hao standing motionless as if petrified, the Clear Sky Hammer held high in the air, his expression shifting from murderous intent to bewilderment.

Yue Guan's reaction was swift. He did not know what method this mysterious youth had used, but he knew that opportunities were fleeting.

"Run!"

Yue Guan grabbed Xie Yue, who was still collapsed against the tree trunk, and hoisted him onto his shoulder. With his other hand, he grabbed Yan's arm. His figure surged, transforming into a streak of white light as he dashed toward the dense forest in the south.

Qin Chuan turned around and glanced at Hu Liena, who was still standing there in a daze.

Her face still bore the lingering panic of having survived a disaster; her eyes were red, and her lips trembled. Her purple-red dress was covered in dust, the left strap had slipped halfway down, revealing a smooth, fair shoulder. Strands of hair clung to her cheeks and neck, and her golden earrings swayed with her trembling.

Qin Chuan did not waste words. He reached out his left hand and clamped his fingers around Hu Liena's wrist.

Hu Liena's wrist was slender, her skin smooth and supple, though her bones felt sharp against his touch.

Qin Chuan gripped her wrist and pulled her toward him, guiding one of her hands onto his shoulder.

"Hold on tight."

Before Hu Liena could react, Qin Chuan tapped his toes against the ground. Channeling his Heavenly Dao Power, the two of them soared into the air, flying in the direction Yue Guan had taken.

Hu Liena's body was jerked upward by the sudden force. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on Qin Chuan's shoulder, her nails digging into the fabric of his black robe.

The wind whipped against her face, howling loudly.

Her long hair was swept back, fluttering like a banner. Her skirt billowed in the high-speed movement, revealing her long, slender legs.

Qin Chuan's flight speed was not exceptionally fast, but it was sufficient. He tracked Yue Guan's aura, heading south and crossing several mountain peaks.

Behind them, there was no sound of pursuit.

Qin Chuan breathed a sigh of relief.

The [Memory Kill] had taken effect.

Tang Hao was a man governed by his emotions. The person he cared about most in this life was A Yin. When the Memory Kill dragged those most tender scenes to the surface and plastered them directly into his mind, it wasn't that he couldn't resist—he simply didn't want to.

Those images were too beautiful; since losing A Yin, he hadn't seen them for a very, very long time.

He indulged in them, even if only for a minute.

The others on the battlefield had long since fled, their whereabouts unknown.

Meanwhile, having regained his senses, Tang Hao knelt on the ground.

The Clear Sky Hammer was thrust into the mud. He braced his hands against the earth, his head bowed low, his forehead nearly touching the soil. His gray robe was stained with mud and broken grass, his back heaving with every breath.

He was crying.

The effects of the Memory Kill had faded. Those images receded from his mind like a retreating tide, leaving behind a desolate void.

A Yin's smiling face was gone, her voice was gone, the sea of flowers was gone, the wooden house was gone, and the great tree under the moonlight was gone.

Everything was gone.

All that remained was a patch of mud in the Star Dou Great Forest, left devastated by the battle between two Title Douluo. Broken wood, shattered stones, and scorched earth were everywhere.

Tang Hao kept his eyes shut, tears squeezing out from between his lids and dripping, one by one, onto the mud.

He could have easily resisted that soul skill.

With the spiritual power of a level ninety-five Title Douluo, he could have shattered a mental fluctuation of that white soul ring level just by focusing his mind for a split second.

But he hadn't. When those images appeared, he had voluntarily surrendered his resistance.

He wanted to see A Yin too much.

How long had it been? How long had it been since he saw her face?

During those years in Holy Soul Village, he drank every day until he was dead drunk, then lay on the cold floor of the smithy, staring at the ceiling. A Yin's face would surface in his mind automatically. But as time passed, those images grew increasingly blurred and faded.

He was terrified that one day he would forget what A Yin looked like, but that soul skill just now had restored every single detail.

A Yin's eyebrows, A Yin's eyes, the tiny mole on the bridge of A Yin's nose, the way A Yin would pout when she pricked her finger with a needle.

It was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

Tang Hao slammed his large hand fiercely against the ground.

"Boom." A section of the ground collapsed.

Then he slammed it again.

"Boom."

He didn't know how many times he struck, but he didn't stop until the ground before him had been smashed into a crater over ten meters in diameter.

Tang Hao wiped the tears and mud from his face and stood up.

He looked toward the direction where Yue Guan and the others had fled, his expression complex.

The anger remained. Spirit Hall had stolen A Yin; he would not forget this debt.

Tang Hao took a deep breath, bent down to pull the Clear Sky Hammer from the earth, and brushed the dirt off the weapon.

The people from Spirit Hall had escaped, and that mysterious young man had run off with them.

Should he pursue? Tang Hao stood by the edge of the crater, pondering for a moment. It was clearly unwise to chase them now; by the time he caught up, they would likely have reached the territory of Spirit Hall.

With that thought, Tang Hao turned around and flew back in the direction of Holy Soul Village.