The Butcher collapsed to the ground in confusion, his face turning pale as he stammered, "How could this happen? Why is there no response? This shouldn't be, how could this be possible?"

After trying for some time, Su Youzhu also failed to elicit any response.

"I'm sorry."

She whispered softly, "It seems I won't be able to stay with you any longer."

The girl's voice was calm yet carried an unprecedented anxiety, without a hint of regret.

Because Su Youzhu had always wanted to do something for the boy.

Without this father and son, she would have died long ago.

She was not afraid of death, only worried that after her death, he would be alone and lonely.

Gu Jianlin stared at her expressionlessly, her face reflecting distantly in his vacant gaze.

"If you die, I will hate you forever."

He spoke, emphasizing each word.

Su Youzhu raised her hand and touched his hair, her voice tender, "So stubborn... Do you even know how little time we have left? Still picking a fight with me? Can't you smile instead?"

"But I don't want to hate you."

Gu Jianlin retorted coldly, "If you survive, I'll smile for you every single day."

Su Youzhu curled up in his arms, finding a comfortable position, and murmured, "I don't want to die either. But my luck is terrible, it feels like the gods only want me dead. What can I do about that?"

She clutched the fabric of his chest, her trembling hands gradually losing strength.

The girl's complexion grew increasingly pale.

Even though the rhythm of life was inaudible, her breaths and heartbeat were dwindling into silence.

Like the afterglow of sunset, swallowed by the dark.

"No, the gods want you to live."

Gu Jianlin whispered, "Today, I am your god."

·

·

Boom!

Scarlet light like blood dyed the darkness of the cavern.

Thud, thud! Thud, thud!

The muffled sound of heartbeats echoed in the silence, like the roar of thunder!

Si Wei'an retreated to the furthest corner, raising his hand to shield his eyes. All he could feel was the overwhelming flood of blood-red light, cascading like a waterfall, consuming the darkness entirely. The stench of blood was so thick it resembled Hell!

Ten dried-up corpses lay arranged within stone coffins, forming a ritualistic matrix.

Jing Shangxiu knelt on the ground, slicing open his wrist, blood gushing forth.

A black Dragon Scale was laid at the center of the matrix.

"With blood as offering, we await the descent of God!"

The old man cried out in a hoarse yet fervent voice.

Boom!

The enormous, blood-colored heart exploded violently at the peak of its beat!

The entire stone cavern shook violently!

Blood surged uncontrollably, drowning everything like a sea tide.

Amid the unending torrent of blood and sea, a shadow emerged—a pitch-black fragment.

No, it was not just a fragment.

It was the broken hilt of a sword!

Its appearance was regal and exquisitely crafted, teetering between the realms of illusion and reality, adorned with eerie and solemn golden engravings, as though whispering the history of Ancient Times, ancient and weighty.

"The Qilin Wedge!"

Jing Shangxiu roared wildly, "This is a fragment of the Qilin Wedge!"

Si Wei'an stood from afar, watching the spectacle with fervent eyes: "So, this is the Wedge?"

The smile on his lips widened, twisted into a deranged frenzy.

And at that very moment, the fragment of the Qilin Wedge levitated mid-air.

The pitch-black, mirror-like surface of the sword hilt suddenly reflected a face.

A face concealed behind the Black Jade Qilin Mask, crowned with regal yet horrific Qilin Horns—its blazing golden eyes burning like the fiercest sun in the heavens.

Cold.

Majestic.

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