Feixiao tried to keep her tone bright and steady, guiding the emotions of the two people before her.
There was no other reason for it—every one of the three in this room carried a past too heavy to bear, and she knew exactly what kind of delusions this pill could awaken.
With her openness, and Jing Yuan's wisdom, even they struggled to view it with calm—how could Jingliu or Jiaoqiu possibly manage it?
If not for the fact that the [Samsara Elixir] had once pulled Jingliu out from the quagmire of Mara, Feixiao would never have dared to tell her any of this.
She slowly loosened her fingers, revealing a sphere of three-colored light, twisting and interweaving as it floated before them. At first glance, it looked nothing like a pill at all—yet Feixiao's words were enough to make the other two believe it was indeed a supreme divine medicine.
When the phrase "it can even bring the dead back to life" reached Jingliu's and Jiaoqiu's ears, all other sounds vanished.
Shock alone could not describe what they felt—it was complete upheaval.
They could not help but remember their comrades, frozen forever in a photograph—laughing freely, confident that the fangs of The Hunt would pierce all enemies. And now, looking again, those smiles marked the final moments of their lives, lives that had long since turned to stillness.
Their longing over the years had fermented into hatred toward the Abundance, but even so, the longing itself had never faded.
To bring back the dead...?
Their gazes toward the tri-colored glow burned hotter and hotter.
But to Feixiao, that kind of fire was no good sign.
It wasn't that she couldn't part with the pill—but because she had already learned: Not all of the dead could be saved.
The war between the Xianzhou and the Abundance had lasted thousands of years. How many of their best and brightest had poured out their blood?
Jingliu's and Jiaoqiu's comrades—were they only Baiheng or the General Yueyu? There were far too many. Every one of them deserved to live again. But unfortunately, that was impossible. Truly impossible.
So, for Feixiao, this pill was better used for the future—as a safeguard against another tragedy like the one during the Riot of the Imbibitor Lunae, which had nearly left the Yaoqing crippled.
After all, if such a tragedy struck again, as a Foxian, she could not, like Jing Yuan, slowly rebuild over centuries for Luofu's recovery.
She did not have the time.
And so, she had agreed with Sylvester's idea—to use the elixir as a means to reinforce the future.
But obsession, by its nature, could not be stopped by reason alone.
She spoke softly.
"This pill is unimaginably powerful. It does not require a corpse. A single strand of hair or a drop of blood will do. As long as there remains the faintest trace of soul upon it, the pill will call back the rest from across the cosmos, restore what is missing, and reshape the body—reborn in the most perfect, most complete form."
At her words, two hearts beat violently, shattering the stillness.
Jingliu could almost hear it—the blood coursing through her veins like a flood released from a broken dam.
It was the sensation her cold, Mara-sealed body could no longer feel.
And besides that, for the first time, another emotion surged within her mind—fierce, blinding, radiant as the sunrise—pushing aside all else.
Baiheng...
She called the name silently in her heart.
Feixiao looked at Jingliu, standing frozen, outwardly calm yet inwardly in turmoil, and sighed quietly.
As expected, things had turned out this way.
How could a few cheerful words break through centuries of obsession?
Otherwise, how would obsession ever be called obsession?
And then there was Jiaoqiu.
Feixiao turned her head toward her aide. Jiaoqiu had once been the Yaoqing's most beloved medic. After he had lost his will to live, she had searched tirelessly to bring him back into service.
He had devoted himself to curing her Moon Rage, but his own heart was far sicker than hers.
As Feixiao expected, Jiaoqiu's thoughts drifted back to that night, when he had spoken with the Moon-chasing General.
When he had first joined the army, still young, he was full of confidence in his medical skill. To him, the army was the perfect place to fulfill the vow of healing the world.
Yet within days, that confidence had crumbled—replaced only by fear.
Every morning, when the horn for departure sounded, those he had healed marched again to the front.
Every night, when footsteps returned to camp, there were always fewer faces by the cauldron fires.
He had once asked the General, "If those I save are destined to die again, what meaning does healing have?"
He no longer remembered her answer—only the muffled sobs that echoed through the ward, and how, when he blinked hard, he realized his eyes were already too dry to shed tears.
He had thought that was the end of sorrow.
He was wrong.
During the Third War of the Abundance, when the united enemy armies surged again, Luofu, Yaoqing, and Fanghu all sent reinforcements.
But the living planet, the Ketu Mirage, was far beyond their imagination. The collapsing front line reminded the Xianzhou of the fall of Cangcheng.
The Abundance brought only death.
Until Yuque's Stargazer raised the Cloudpeer Telescope, bearing the prayers of billions, and called upon the Reignbow Arbiter's Arrow.
And THEY answered.
Blinding light tore through the heavens. The Ketu Mirage, like an insect crushed by a storm, was vaporized—along with the Abundance's monstrosities.
Where the light reached, mountains turned to dust.
And so too did those on the front line—with General Yueyu among them—consumed alongside the enemy.
The Xianzhou had won.
But Jiaoqiu felt only cold.
As a healer, what meaning did he have? In the face of such destruction, what meaning did life itself have?
Now, standing in this moment, he stared at the [Resurrection Elixir].
This small pill held power even the Aeons could not fully grasp—the power of life and death.
Then even death had lost its meaning. What kind of nightmare was this?
Yet could he give up the hope it offered?
Of course not. Beyond his duty as a healer, he loved the living—not romantically, but deeply. He loved life itself, and loathed death.
"General," he asked after a long silence, "who do you plan to bring back?"
To him, the answer was obvious.
Feixiao's master—General Yueyu. In status, in relationship, in strength, she was the most fitting choice.
This pill belonged to Feixiao. If she chose to use it for her master, no one could fault her.
Jingliu, coming back to herself, looked at Feixiao as well, sharing the same thought.
Though she longed deeply to bring back her dearest friend, after meeting the reincarnated Bailu, and hearing Feixiao's explanation that a trace of soul was required, she understood.
Baiheng was gone. Unless time itself changed, history rewritten, there was no chance.
For the soul of a Vidyadhara could not appear from nothing—Bailu's birth meant another soul had completely vanished from the universe.
Even so, she wanted to hear Feixiao's answer. Would it be the General Yueyu?
Feixiao took a deep breath, then smiled, the tension leaving her shoulders.
"I don't intend to disturb the dead any further," she said softly. "Let them rest. They don't need to face this era where all their comrades are gone."
Jingliu stared in disbelief.
She doesn't plan to bring anyone back? Then... is she planning to use it on herself?