Xia Lian was already at her absolute limit.
Her lungs felt as if they were tearing apart, each breath a struggle like an old, worn-out bellows.
Her legs felt as heavy as lead, her speed slower and slower.
Behind her, the roars suddenly closed in!
A gust of foul-smelling wind hit her in the face, followed by a nauseatingly sticky sensation.
Xia Lian didn't even dare to look back.
She could feel that thing right behind her, mere inches away.
Its breath, filled with greed and malice, already coiled around the back of her neck.
The shadow of death had never been so close, so real.
No! I can't die here!
A fierce will to survive ignited like a spark, instantly fueling her nearly extinguished resolve. Xia Lian unleashed her final reserves of strength.
She drew the twin blades [ Fangs of Shadow Strike ] from her waist and violently rolled away.
As she turned, she crossed the blades in front of her to defend!
Yet, behind her, there was nothingness.
Only the endless, boundless darkness.
What monster?
What roars?
It was all just her own imagination.
Xia Lian froze.
She held her defensive stance, her entire body tense with extreme strain.
But after waiting for a long time, the expected attack never came.
When she realized this, the roar that had vanished echoed from the distance once more.
Then, unhurriedly, it closed in on her again.
As if toying with a rat that had fallen into a trap.
"..."
A chill more terrifying than death instantly shot from the soles of Xia Lian's feet to the crown of her head.
This Illusion was not trying to kill her with a monster.
It was simply using this endless chase.
This fear that could never be escaped.
To crush her spirit, piece by piece, until it was completely shattered.
Just as she was about to be swallowed by despair, the sound of an arrow piercing the air rang out beside her ear without warning.
Shwoosh—
The sound was so familiar, so intimate.
Xia Lian turned her head instinctively.
She saw a streak of light flash past her side, shooting accurately into the dense darkness behind.
"Roar!"
A piercing, agonized shriek tore through the darkness.
Immediately after, she saw a figure.
A figure who also held a shortbow, wore dark leather armor, and looked almost identical to her, had appeared beside her at some unknown moment, standing shoulder to shoulder.
On that "Xia Lian's" face, there was not a hint of fear.
Only the calm and focus unique to a Ranger when hunting.
"What are you afraid of?"
The other "Xia Lian" spoke, her voice steady and powerful.
"We are Rangers, hunters in the darkness, not prey being chased by monsters."
As she spoke, she drew her bowstring again and fired another arrow.
Another shriek echoed from the darkness.
"Where is your bow? Where is your blade?"
The other "Xia Lian" turned to look at her, her gaze sharp.
"Treat it as your enemy, not your fear. Fear cannot kill monsters."
Xia Lian stared blankly at her other self, who stood there with such heroic and valiant bearing.
Then she looked down at her own hands, which couldn't even hold her blade steady.
Yes...
My weapon is in my hand!
Why have I been running all this time?
I... am a Ranger.
A surge of warmth suddenly rose from her heart, instantly dispelling the bone-chilling cold.
She stopped her footsteps and ceased her flight.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly raised her hand.
[ Fangs of Shadow Strike ] was put away, and [ Dark Night Starwhisper ] reappeared in her hand.
She turned, facing the darkness that continuously echoed with roars, and fell into a standard combat stance.
In her eyes, the fear had vanished completely.
All that remained was the calm, sharp glint unique to a hunter.
-
Ash World.
Time flowed by in a blur.
Lin Qingyue remained standing in silence, her gaze fixed on that desolate figure, never wavering.
She made no further attempt to communicate, nor did she act rashly.
She was simply feeling.
With her heart, with her soul, she touched the deep-seated emotions flowing through this Ash World.
At first, she had also assumed that the master of this place had forged this silent yet scorching ruin out of endless fury.
After all, the "Wrath" triggered in the System Notification had been so obvious.
But now, as she truly stood within the core of this emotion, she finally realized she was wrong.
She felt no trace of the expected "Wrath."
Or rather, it was there.
But that surge of wrath was like waves churning upon the deep sea; seemingly tumultuous and majestic, it was merely a superficial display.
And beneath those waves lay something deeper, colder, and more silent than the ocean itself... a heart turned to ash.
It was an ultimate exhaustion, one so profound that even anger felt superfluous.
And, after being diluted by this exhaustion over countless eons, what remained was a sorrow as silent as ash.
It was the despair of a trillion cycles of nirvana, only to be met with even deeper suffering after each rebirth.
It had accumulated an utter weariness of life itself.
The so-called "Wrath" was merely a faint residue spilling over from this endless sorrow.
It was a thin, fragile shell that her ravaged heart had erected for self-protection.
Its soul was already too exhausted to even muster the strength for anger.
The violent fire elements outside the ruins were merely emotional waste it had unconsciously leaked.
"Non-violent non-cooperation..."
Lin Qingyue softly murmured the Dungeon Rule.
Now she finally understood.
Against a soul that craved a death it could not even obtain, any form of attack might be precisely what it desired.
It would be an alternative form of "deliverance."
Therefore, violence could not make her submit.
Because she simply did not care.
The mission requirement was also "to soothe," not "to eliminate."
To soothe her, one must first penetrate that hard shell and touch her true, inner core.
What should she do?
Countless thoughts flashed through Lin Qingyue's mind.
Purify with Holy Light? It would probably only be taken as an attack.
Try to reason with words? What grand truths had a Remnant Soul of a Divine Beast, who had lived for who knows how many ages, not heard?
No, these conventional methods were useless.
She needed to use a method... that it would never expect.
Once she figured this out, Lin Qingyue's originally tense nerves completely relaxed.
A faint, imperceptible smile curved her lips.
She did not bring out her staff, nor did she conjure Holy Light, and she certainly did not take any combat stance.
Instead, she unhurriedly took out a small stool and sat down comfortably in this dead, ashen world.
Then, not far from the woman in red, she began to take things out of her Storage Space, one by one.
A small, delicate red sandalwood tea table.
An ancient, elegant clay brazier.
A packet of fine silver-wire charcoal.
An ancient iron teapot.
A set of sky-blue Ru kiln teaware.
A small canister of tea leaves, wrapped tightly in oiled paper.
And a jade bottle filled with crystal-clear spring water.
Just like that, in this Ash Illusion that symbolized despair and death, she began to prepare her Kung Fu tea as if no one else were there.