The scene on the Sky Screen slowly shifted, abruptly turning dim and quiet.
Deep within Ninshu, a plain bedroom lay in faint light, its atmosphere bleak.
The Sage of Six Paths lay quietly on the bed, already ancient and frail, his strength all but spent.
His body was withered and thin, his skin covered in the wrinkles of age. White hair lay scattered across his pillow, and his breathing was barely perceptible.
The flame of his life flickered precariously. He had reached the very end.
The room was so quiet that a falling pin could have been heard. Only the Sage of Six Paths' faint breathing drifted through the air.
Just then, his clouded, weary eyes stirred slightly.
He seemed to sense a familiar, cold presence quietly descending outside the room.
That presence was proud and aloof, bitterly cold, filled with an unyielding obsession and undying resentment he would remember all his life.
The Sage of Six Paths opened his eyes slightly. His breath was weak, his voice hoarse and feeble as he spoke softly.
"Is that you... Indra?"
"Have you... come to kill me?"
As his words faded, a tall, cold spectral figure slowly emerged from the shadows of the room.
Indra's voice was chilling to the bone, devoid of any warmth, as indifferent as ice that had endured ten thousand years.
"There is no need for me to kill you anymore."
"Your lifespan is exhausted. Your time has come, and your end is already decided. I need not bother."
He quietly watched his dying father on the bed. Every word rang firm, every sentence laden with a lifetime of accusations and resolve.
"I did not come today to end your life."
"I came here to put an end to this sinful future disguised as Ninshu."
"Deep in your