Qian Renxue let out a soft laugh. Within that laughter was a trace of regret, a trace of release, and an emotion beyond words: "It's a pity... we won't have an afterlife."
The three fell silent for a moment. The three phantoms in the darkness drew closer together, as if wanting to feel each other's warmth one last time before dissipating.
"Lord Qian Renxue," Zhao Feng suddenly spoke, a hint of hesitation in his voice. "There are some things I've never said out loud."
"Me too," Lin Mo also said.
Qian Renxue was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "I know."
Three words, containing a thousand unspoken words. A century of fighting side by side, a millennium of inherited guardianship, those unspoken emotions, the tenderness hidden behind the battles—all of it crystallized into these three words at this moment.
I know.
"If there is an afterlife..." Qian Renxue's voice grew fainter, her phantom ever more translucent, "I will wait for you."
"Definitely," Zhao Feng said.
"Definitely," Lin Mo said.
The three phantoms simultaneously erupted with their final glimmer of light. The radiance was warm and gentle, like the tenderest embrace, like the most affectionate farewell. The light flickered once in the darkness, and then dissipated completely.
The darkness returned to silence, as if nothing had ever happened.
But some things will never fade away.
Continental Calendar Year 1026, late autumn.
Three months had passed since that great battle.
Tian Dou City had regained its former prosperity. The streets were bustling with people, the shouts of vendors rising and falling, children playing and frolicking in the plazas, and the elderly sitting on roadside benches soaking up the sun. Everything looked just as it had before, yet everything was entirely different.
In the center of the plaza, a massive sculpture was under construction. The sculpture's subjects were three people—Qian Renxue stood in the center, six pairs of angelic wings unfurled behind her, her left hand cradling a golden tome, and her right hand grasping a golden holy sword; Zhao Feng stood on Qian Renxue's right, gripping a golden battleaxe, clad in golden armor, his gaze like a torch; Lin Mo stood on Qian Renxue's left, surrounded by lightning, the phantom of the Holy Angel Abyssal Dragon Emperor hovering behind him.
Carved into the sculpture's base was a line of large characters: "The heroic spirits are immortal; our guardianship will never cease—In memory of Qian Renxue, Zhao Feng, and Lin Mo, three heroic spirits who sacrificed their lives to protect the continent."
Around the sculpture, flowers and candles were piled high. Every day, countless people came here to offer flowers, light candles, and pray. Among them were white-haired elders, children with backpacks, soldiers gripping weapons, and Soul Masters in flowing robes. Everyone would pause before the sculpture, close their eyes, pray silently, and then lay their flowers at its base.
Su Chen stood before the sculpture, looking at those three familiar figures, his eyes slightly red. Over the past three months, he had come here almost every day—sometimes in the morning, sometimes late at night, sometimes alone, sometimes with Ares. He always felt that as long as he stood here, those three hadn't truly left.
"Strategist," Ares' voice came from behind him. "The envoy from the Tian Dou Empire has arrived. He says he wants to see you."
Su Chen didn't turn around, merely nodding gently. "Let him wait a moment."
Ares fell silent for a beat before saying, "Strategist, you've been standing here for four hours already."
"I know." Su Chen said softly, "Ares, do you think they can hear our prayers?"
Ares thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know. But I do know that if they were still alive, they would tell us to do what needs to be done, instead of grieving for them here."
Su Chen turned around and looked at Ares' rough, honest face, forcing a bitter smile. "Since when did you become so eloquent?"
"I've followed you for so long, naturally I learned," Ares grinned. The smile was a bit forced, but he tried his best to keep it up.
Su Chen took a deep breath, took one last look at the sculpture, and turned away. His footsteps were firm and steady, just as Zhao Feng had taught him back in the day—no matter what you face, keep your head high and march forward with resolve. Because the sacrifice of the heroic spirits wasn't meant for them to drown in sorrow, but to live better and guard this land even more fiercely.
The envoy from the Tian Dou Empire brought a piece of news—the Tian Dou imperial family had decided to designate this day every year as "Heroic Spirits Memorial Day." The entire nation would have a day off, and all cities, towns, and villages were to hold commemorative events to mourn the heroic spirits who had sacrificed themselves to protect the continent.
Hearing this news, Su Chen remained silent for a long time before simply saying, "Alright."
He didn't say anything superfluous, because he knew that these formal memorials were far less important than carrying forward the spirit of the heroic spirits. The sacrifices of Qian Renxue, Zhao Feng, and Lin Mo were not meant to be memorialized, but to be inherited. Their convictions, their guardianship, their spirit—these needed to be passed down from generation to generation. That was the best memorial they could ever have.
Night fell, and the lights of Tian Dou City lit up one by one, like stars on earth echoing the stars in the heavens.
Su Chen sat in his study, a massive map spread out before him, marking the distribution of the continent's various factions. After the great war, although the Void Cult hadn't been completely eradicated, having lost the support of the Seed of the Void, it was severely crippled and posed no threat in the short term. However, the continent's peace was only temporary; various factions were secretly amassing their strength, waiting for the next opportunity.
"Strategist," Ares pushed the door open and walked in, holding a bowl of hot soup. "You haven't eaten all day."
Su Chen took the bowl, took a sip, and set it down. "Ares, do you think we'll ever see them again?"
Ares froze for a moment, then shook his head. "Strategist, you've asked me that many times already."
"I know," Su Chen smiled bitterly. "But every time I miss them, I can't help but ask."
Ares was quiet for a while before saying, "Strategist, I don't understand souls or reincarnation, but I do know that as long as we are alive, as long as we remember them, they will never truly disappear. Because they live in our hearts, and in our actions."
Su Chen looked at Ares, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Ares, your performance today makes me suspect you've been possessed by something."
Ares scratched his head and smiled honestly. "Actually, these are words Commander Zhao Feng told me before. He said that true death isn't the dissipation of the soul, but being forgotten by everyone. As long as someone still remembers them, they aren't truly dead."
Su Chen fell silent. He then picked up the bowl and drank it down, mouthful by mouthful. The soup was hot, flowing from his throat down to his stomach, warmth spreading throughout his body. He stood up, walked to the window, pushed it open, and gazed at the twinkling stars in the night sky.
"Commander Zhao Feng, Lord Lin Mo, Lord Qian Renxue."
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