After channeling her power into Khanh, Bui To Nhu suddenly stopped.
She lowered her hand, her face stiffening as though even she could not believe the truth that had just surfaced.
Master Ly… had truly passed away?
Her eyes trembled as they fell upon Khanh. In that gaze swirled countless emotions—grief, disbelief, sorrow—layered so densely they could not be spoken. Tears welled up unbidden, beyond her control. Only a few drops, yet they traced long paths down the weathered lines of her aged face, each one deepening the weight of her sorrow.
Hurriedly, she wiped them away and turned aside, retreating from the chamber. A heavy silence settled over the weapons hall she had built with her own hands. No words were exchanged, yet everyone present felt the suffocating weight of mourning, as if even the air itself bore the burden of loss.
Ho Lam Uyen, Vo Tinh Hai, and La Diep each lowered their heads, averting their eyes. Their faces were clouded with sorrow, as if they had long anticipated this outcome, yet only now were forced to confront its painful reality.
In a corner, Vu Minh Triet collapsed to his knees. His shoulders quivered violently, tears streaming unchecked before his sobs broke loose into a raw, uncontrollable cry.
It was Ho Lam Uyen who finally spoke, her voice low but steady:
> "Khanh, Vy… for tonight, stay here and rest. Tomorrow we will begin the examinations and training. For now… let your minds find peace."
No one objected. The gloom that hung over the chamber left no room for further words. That day would be remembered as the saddest day the group had ever endured.
Khanh too felt the weight of it. Within him stirred an overwhelming tide of emotion unlike anything he had ever known. All his life, he had been alone, untouched by closeness. On the barren ground of Layer 0, people lived detached, cold, indifferent.
Yet in just two brief days, Master Ly had saved him—not once in the chaos of The J&D, but again when he dragged Khanh into a new world. Even though Khanh trembled in fear, unwilling to step into something so alien, Master Ly had been the one to reach out, to pull him forward. He had given Khanh a shelter, a bond he had never before possessed.
And now, it was gone.
The emptiness hollowed out Khanh's chest, pressing like a stone against his ribs. His tears would not fall; only a cold, aching void remained. For the first time, Khanh realized he too could grieve, he too could lose. And that pain was sharper, heavier than anything he had ever endured.
From her seat nearby, Vy watched him. She saw in his eyes that same despair she once carried herself. It was familiar, piercing her heart like a mirror of her own agony.
Her memories clawed back—the night the demon slaughtered her parents. Every stab, every slash tearing through their organs, the grotesque crunch as it devoured their remains. Those images had carved themselves into her soul, never fading.
Her hand clenched, trembling, yet she lifted her chin with resolve.
"So… I am not the only one who suffers this deeply."
Stepping toward Khanh, Vy's voice was firm yet layered with quiet compassion:
> "I don't know what truly happened between you and that man. But if he has died while you still live, then live on. Find a purpose to anchor yourself, something to strive toward. I believe… you will reach it."
Within the weapon hall steeped in silence, her words cut through like a fragile light, threading into the darkness. From that moment, an invisible bond was forged between two souls scarred by wounds too deep to ever fully heal.