058 The Pain of Memory (6)

Ling Ji stopped crying. She gazed at Feng Ming and slowly walked toward him; since the ending could not be changed, they would bear it together. Seeing the resolute light in Ling Ji’s eyes and her unwavering courage, Feng Ming shook his head in agony—he could not let his sacrifice become meaningless. If she were to step into the Netherfire, what would all their efforts have amounted to?

“Ling Ji, remember who you are. Remember what you still possess,” Feng Ming stepped back, his figure trembling violently. The cracks on his body grew larger, his form more ethereal, teetering on the brink of disappearance.

“Feng Ming!” Ling Ji halted abruptly, not daring to take another step forward. She knew Feng Ming’s decisions were irrevocable.

“Feng Ming! Tell me what I should do! What must I do?” Ling Ji trembled, defeated. “The child—she still has a child!” If disaster struck her now, the lineage of Earth Gods would end. If she left with the Netherfire, Feng Ming would never return. He would remain in this cold barrier until he faded away.

“Who will save him now? Who will save them?” Her thoughts turned to the Guardian—the only hope left. She knelt before him. In her life, she had never bowed to anyone, never lowered her head. Today, she knelt only to save her beloved.

“I beg you, save him. I am willing to give everything I have.”

The Guardian’s face, once moved, returned to its usual impassivity. No one knew what the Guardian thought at that moment; perhaps he had been touched, perhaps duty forced his actions. Yet a complex emotion flickered in his eyes.

He stared at Ling Ji for a long time. When his voice finally broke the silence, Ling Ji’s last hope vanished.

“Everything? What can you give? When he touched the Netherfire, his fate was sealed. Oblivion is the only outcome. Fortunately, the spirit of the Netherfire chose him; you may obtain the matured Netherfire. Otherwise, as his soul perishes, you would not leave this place either. Now, I give you one last chance—whether you can take the Netherfire with your own strength, that depends on you.”

The Guardian’s words echoed in Ling Ji’s ears: “Oblivion... Oblivion...”

Ling Ji slowly rose, walking toward Feng Ming, treading upon swords, upon the edge of despair. The short distance felt like a lifetime’s journey, a road she wished she could walk again and again, stretching time and space infinitely, always moving toward him—even if she could not touch, she could gaze from afar. She wished to know he would always be waiting at the road’s end, watching for her return.

Feng Ming watched Ling Ji approach, his eyes greedily tracing her face, her brows and eyes, wishing to engrave her deeply in memory and soul, to imprint her laughter and grace in the place most indelible within his spirit, until he vanished. In his hands burned the matured Netherfire.

Only upon touching that tiny flame did he realize that without its consent, even if he entered the Netherfire, even if his soul were obliterated, he would gain nothing. The Netherfire grew like a plant; only the final matured flame possessed its ultimate power. That tiny spark was the spirit of the Netherfire. Only by merging with it, then separating successfully, could the Netherfire truly mature.

The spark had chosen him, exchanging for fragments of his divine soul.

Ling Ji stood before Feng Ming, at last facing the final outcome.

Feng Ming extended his hand, the Netherfire burning quietly in his palm. As his divine soul shattered, he reserved some power to suppress the extreme cold of the Netherfire. Now, with Ling Ji’s strength, she could fully control it.

Ling Ji seemed soulless, like a puppet, staring at him blankly. Her eyes held no tears; all had been shed. Blood-tears crusted at the corners, like a crimson mole, bearing the record of pain.

Feng Ming gestured for Ling Ji to reach out—any delay, and his power would no longer suppress the Netherfire.

Ling Ji finally extended her trembling hands, like fallen leaves in a cold wind, unable to control their shaking.

At the moment Feng Ming placed the Netherfire in Ling Ji’s hands, his body shuddered—a harsher truth flashed into his mind. No explanation came, but the cruel reality forced him to believe.

His hand hung in the air, stunned. He had thought his sacrifice would secure success, yet an even greater disaster loomed.

To merge the power of Netherfire and Earth’s Sacred Flame, the lineage of Earth Gods, the Imperial clan of the Divine Realm, the Nether Realm, and the Phoenix clan must contribute their strength.

But now, the Divine Realm had refused to help, the Nether Realm even less so; only the Earth Gods and Phoenix clan had power.

Even if, relying on himself and Ling Ji, they could ignite the Sacred Flame of the Earth’s heart, once it burned, if subjected to powerful interference, it would still extinguish. Even without outside interference, its life would only be prolonged—a greater catastrophe might yet befall the mortal world.

But if the Sacred Flame was not ignited, the mortal world might be destroyed. If lit, it left a grave hidden danger for the Earth Gods.

The Sacred Flame would eventually die out, and his descendants would endure the same fate as he. Thinking of the child in Ling Ji’s womb, destined for the same journey and suffering, he resolved to do something for that child.

He could not disappear; even with his soul shattered, he must preserve a final shred of power, ready for what might come.

Fortunately, he belonged to the Phoenix clan; by relying on Phoenix blood, he could temporarily control the chilling force of the Netherfire. Otherwise, even if the child entered the Netherfire one day, without Phoenix blood, he would never obtain it.

Feng Ming’s divine soul had already shattered; his barely-held body was about to fragment. With his last strength, he preserved all memories within two fragments of his soul—no matter what, he would try. If Heaven had spirit, let those fragments endure, so he could do this one final thing for his child, using the last remnant of himself to shield against the Netherfire’s cold.

Meanwhile, Feng Ming sensed Ling Ji’s trembling—she could barely stand, as if her feet had lost all strength. What did she feel?

Ling Ji had always been proud of her Earth God lineage, but now, at this moment, she questioned herself: why choose to be of the Earth Gods, why ignite the Sacred Flame, why not relinquish when the Divine Realm coveted the mortal world, why persist so stubbornly?

The instant she touched the Netherfire, she understood something: this was the price for attaining the Netherfire.

Once she left the Nether Realm with the Netherfire, it meant she must forever forget Feng Ming, forget all that happened here, never mention anything of the Netherfire barrier, for she had not reached the sixth layer of Ice Spirit. Should she speak, a backlash would instantly devour her.

Forget Feng Ming, forget his existence, forget everything between them. Feng Ming had lost all Phoenix lineage; if she forgot him, his existence would be erased—even their unborn child would never hear of him from her lips.

Now, relying on their strength, the Sacred Flame they won was destined to die out. Her child would share her fate.

Moreover, anyone who touched the Netherfire would have their descendants suffer a fate even more tragic than gaining the Netherfire.

Ling Ji could not imagine a greater pain in all creation than this: to watch her beloved’s soul perish before her eyes—was this not the greatest torment?

They looked at each other, having paid a terrible price, only to arrive at this ending—a future filled with foreseen misery.

Ling Ji stared at Feng Ming. “Why must we endure all this? Why must I bear it alone? What must I do to survive this endless life?”

If a thousand choices existed, Ling Ji would rather remain here, forget everything, perhaps even let life vanish—maybe that was her best choice.

Feng Ming finally reached out to touch her belly, where a life was being nurtured. He would never meet this child. Though he knew he might see the child in the distant future, at this moment he prayed Heaven would not grant him a final chance, would not let him see the child, would not let her enter the Netherfire barrier. He hoped it was only a hallucination, that the Sacred Flame of the Earth’s heart would never die.

The child stirred suddenly, as if bidding farewell to her father she had never met.

Feng Ming’s body shattered instantly. Countless fragments drifted toward the barrier’s edge, consumed by the devouring wraiths. The Guardian could never have expected there would be fragments of soul that escaped.

Ling Ji’s soul seemed to vanish along with Feng Ming; her once lively eyes now empty, hollow. If not for the child, if not for her duties, if not for the need to ensure Feng Ming’s sacrifice was not wasted, she too would wish for obliteration. At the moment of his disappearance, she was left with only a soulless shell.

“Forget everything that happened within the barrier. Never mention the Netherfire barrier.” The Guardian coldly commanded Ling Ji.

In the end, the Guardian did not strike her down. Though he could not comprehend what transpired during the transfer of the Netherfire, he felt an unprecedented desolation—as if all vitality had been drained, leaving only endless, barren emptiness.

Her departure perhaps only maintained a kind of balance. Yet the deep love they revealed at the last profoundly shook the Guardian. He watched as Ling Ji left.