Despite being severely wounded, Shu Yang called out Ruan Wei’s name countless times in his heart, hoping Ruan Wei would catch him as he fell toward the ground. But Ruan Wei did not hear a whisper of Shu Yang’s inner plea. Instead, he let out a roar—a sound nearly as deafening as a dragon’s cry—and charged directly at the illusionary Shu Yang.
The illusionary Shu Yang, seeing this, quickly opened his defenses, sending countless rays of sword light soaring into the sky. They cascaded down instantly, illuminating half the sky as if it were bright daylight, which only made the illusionary Shu Yang’s expression look even more sinister.
With a hint of true killing intent, he swung his sword, sending a rain of sword light plummeting down like arrows, leaving no path for escape.
Anyone else would have been terrified by a sword rain capable of mincing a human body into countless fragments. But Ruan Wei was utterly fearless. Driven by rage, his dragon form expanded rapidly. He met the rain of blades head-on, lashing his tail as he charged toward the illusionary Shu Yang.
Layer upon layer of sword light struck Ruan Wei’s scales, creating a teeth-grinding, metallic screech like arrows piercing bronze. Ruan Wei roared in pain, leveling half the surrounding trees and mountains. Countless dust particles and wooden shards swirled in the vortex of the gale. Through the blinding haze of dust, Ruan Wei, bleeding profusely, did not pause for his pain; instead, he accelerated, diving straight toward the chest of the illusionary Shu Yang.
The sword formation had drained much of the illusionary Shu Yang’s spiritual energy, making his defensive movements slower than before.
It was this momentary lapse that allowed Ruan Wei’s dragon head to ram him backward for a hundred meters. The immense momentum caused his body to slam into the crags of the mountain, shattering the solid rock into pieces.
Still, Ruan Wei was not satisfied. He pressed his weight against the illusionary Shu Yang, pinning him against the mountain as if determined to crush the organs within.
The illusionary Shu Yang spat out a mouthful of blood, his gaze turning increasingly frigid. His hand trembled as he gripped his sword. With his remaining strength, he lunged forward, viciously plunging the blade into Ruan Wei’s body.
Ruan Wei’s entire dragon form twisted in agony, struggling violently. But the illusionary Shu Yang refused to let go, watching the blood well up between the gaps of the dragon scales and dissipate into spiritual energy in the wind.
The moment Ruan Wei’s final, painful roar faded, the illusionary Shu Yang finally exhausted his energy and slowly released his grip. There seemed to be a hint of reluctance in his eyes, but a closer look revealed nothing but void. He dissolved into countless stardust particles, vanishing into the air.
The severely wounded Ruan Wei fell heavily to the ground, slowly shrinking until he was only the length of an adult’s arm, landing in a pool of blood.
Shu Yang lay on the ground, having watched the entire fight. He choked up blood, covered his chest where the sword had run him through, and slowly stood up.
The illusionary Shu Yang was gone, and the resentment no longer had a host or a foundation to survive on; Shu Yang and Ruan Wei would soon be able to leave.
Shu Yang steadied himself and staggered over to Ruan Wei.
Ruan Wei lay on the ground, too pained to even cry out. There was not a single intact scale left on his body. Many had been stripped away by the sword light, revealing fragile skin; some patches of flesh had torn away entirely, exposing the crimson muscle beneath where ice-blue meridians pulsed faintly with spiritual light. He looked both ghastly and pitiful. His eyes were half-closed, his blood-red pupils returning to round, slit-less orbs. He stared at Shu Yang and struggled to flick his tail.
Shu Yang did not mind the gore. He leaned down and scooped Ruan Wei up. The dragon shrank smaller and smaller in his palm until he was only the size of a hand, slowly curling into a ball.
“We will be out soon. It will not hurt once we leave.”
Shu Yang stroked Ruan Wei’s head, paused, and then whispered, “It was you who killed him.”
Shu Yang had originally thought the illusionary Shu Yang was a creation of his own resentment, believing that the one who tied the knot must be the one to untie it—that he himself had to kill his own resentment. But he had not expected that the one who truly manifested the illusionary Shu Yang through resentment was not himself, but Ruan Wei.
Because Sui are born of the self, only the self can kill its own resentment. Others cannot do it. Because Ruan Wei harbored resentment toward Shu Yang, he had been pulled into the illusion by the Sui. This also explained why Shu Yang had been possessed by the Sui, yet Ruan Wei had ended up here with him.
Because both Shu Yang and Ruan Wei harbored resentment toward the past Shu Yang, their combined resentment had formed the illusionary version of him. It was not enough for Shu Yang to kill himself; Ruan Wei also had to kill the illusionary Shu Yang for them to leave.
The moment this realization occurred, the sky above shattered, and everything around them blurred and receded. When Shu Yang opened his eyes again, he was back in the pitch-black forest.
Ruan Wei lay in his arms, seemingly still unconscious. Shu Yang intended to push him away, but after a moment, he hesitated and remained rigid. Only now, having emerged from the illusion, did he realize that Ruan Wei actually harbored resentment toward him.
But why?
That Ruan Wei hated him, Shu Yang could understand, but why the resentment? And in the illusion, why had Ruan Wei’s horns and scales been lost because of him?
While Shu Yang was deep in thought, Ruan Wei stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He seemed dazed, staring into the void for five full seconds before realizing something. He sat up abruptly in Shu Yang’s arms, looking at him with suspicion: “You…”
“Why?” Shu Yang knew Ruan Wei had appeared as a dragon for most of the time in the illusion. So, for the events that transpired after he appeared, the Ruan Wei who had manifested in the form of a divine beast could not remember a thing. Shu Yang calmly said, “Awake?”
Ruan Wei shook his head, staring at Shu Yang for a while. Then he shoved him away, stumbled back a few steps, and stood firm.
A dragon’s brain was not as clever as a human’s. Ruan Wei’s memories of himself after transforming into a dragon were blurry. He only remembered vaguely that he had signed some kind of contract with Shu Yang; the rest was a total blank.
Shu Yang looked at him again. Confirming Ruan Wei really remembered nothing, he turned, looked at the refugees who were half-transformed into Sui, and gathered his remaining star energy with a hand seal. With a wave, he cast a shroud of light over the crowd.
Sui feared light and fire. If they encountered the light of a star, they would naturally dissipate.
Shu Yang was the Purple Star, residing in the center of the heavens. The Heavenly Dao had commanded him to govern the power of the stars; this energy was the source of his power. However, he could not use it at all times; if his merit was insufficient, every use depleted it. Furthermore, with the stars Tianchu and Xuanji having fallen into the mortal realm, the star energy available to Shu Yang was even more limited.
It was not that Shu Yang could not use it before; he simply did not want to. He had been so cold and indifferent, treating human lives like grass, believing that using energy to dispel resentment was less efficient than simply killing those without spiritual roots. If Ruan Wei had not suddenly appeared, he might have done just that.
But Shu Yang had killed his own resentment with his own hands in the illusion. Toward these people who had nothing to do with him, he was no longer as harsh as before. Saving them was no trouble.
Countless floating starlight fragments drifted through the woods like shards, dispelling all resentment and Sui, and illuminating Ruan Wei’s fair, clean face.
Ruan Wei looked at the soft, glowing stars in Shu Yang’s palm and suddenly asked, “Are you a star that fell from heaven?”
Not everyone in this world could use star energy. Though Ruan Wei did not remember what happened in the illusion, he sensed something amiss about the power Shu Yang wielded.
“Suppose so.” Before he could figure out why Ruan Wei was so resentful of him, Shu Yang did not intend to reveal his true identity. He concocted a casual lie: “I actually serve under the Lord of Purple Star. I descended to the mortal realm to find the Lord and bring him back.”
Ruan Wei stared at Shu Yang’s face for a long moment. Whether he believed it or not, he remained silent, watching as Shu Yang retracted the star energy.
Because it had been stained by resentment, the core of the star energy had dimmed. Shu Yang did not care. Since he had decided to purify the resentment, he would bear the consequences. As long as the star energy was not completely extinguished, he could return to the Celestial Realm. The Heavenly Dao still favored him; it had taken his spiritual root, but it had left him with treasures for his protection.
With this in mind, Shu Yang turned and saw a star suddenly light up in the distant, dim sky. It flickered a few times before being eclipsed by the sunlight.
It was the Yaoguang Star returning to its position.
Seeing this, Shu Yang seemed to guess the truth and slowly looked back. Sure enough, the refugees who had been formed by resentment had miraculously vanished. It turned out these refugees were not real people at all; they were manifestations of the Yaoguang Star, which had fallen into the mortal realm and been stained by resentment. Only by purifying them could the Yaoguang Star regain its purity and return to the heavens.
So, the fall of Yaoguang was forced.
Shu Yang shook his head with a wry smile. Because of the return of the Yaoguang Star, a hole in the distant Heavenly River was plugged. With the source gone, the surging northern floods slowed their pace and stabilized. Next, he only needed to find the Phoenix clan and figure out a way to divert the remaining floodwater; the disaster should then come to an end.
Thinking of this, Shu Yang turned back to Ruan Wei, smiling with ill intent: “Young Palace Master.”
Ruan Wei folded his arms, eyeing him suspiciously: “What are you doing?”
“Transform into a dragon and carry me across this place.”
Shu Yang said, “It is an ocean of water everywhere, and my power is low. I cannot fly across.”
In truth, it was not that Shu Yang could not cross it; it would just consume too much energy. Shu Yang was lazy and wanted a free ride on Ruan Wei’s back.
Ruan Wei pointed at himself in disbelief, then at Shu Yang: “You?”
He said: “You, a…”
He was about to say “a lowly slave,” but he suddenly remembered Shu Yang’s other identity as a star under the Lord of Purple Star. The insult caught in his throat, leaving him speechless. He stared, frozen, not knowing what to say.
Shu Yang walked over, leaned in to look at Ruan Wei’s round, wide eyes, and felt the dragon was cuter in his beast form. “Can you do it, Young Palace Master?”
Ruan Wei remained silent for a moment, stared at Shu Yang for a while, and suddenly spoke: “Then you must promise me one condition.”
Shu Yang raised an eyebrow, surprised, and said, “Tell me the condition first.”
Ruan Wei’s hand behind his back dug several indentations into his own skin. After a long pause, he squeezed out a voice as soft as a mosquito: “Then can you tell me whether your Lord of Purple Star has ever entered into a contract with a fairy maiden or attendant in heaven?”
Shu Yang had not expected Ruan Wei to rack his brains just to ask this question. He wondered if he had misheard: “Your condition is for me to answer this question?”
Ruan Wei saw that Shu Yang was not answering directly and grew anxious, eyes widening: “None of your business!”
His eyes turned back into vertical slits: “Tell me the truth, did he or did he not?”
“Ugh…” Shu Yang raised his hands in surrender, then laughed: “You are so fierce, Young Palace Master.”
He held back a little, saying, “But this matter is not easy for me to answer.”
He said, “The Lord of Purple Star is my superior, after all. It is not my place to gossip.”
Ruan Wei’s eyes turned red: “Then what will it take for you to tell me?!”
“Let me ride on your back to cross this ocean, and I will tell you.”
Shu Yang laid his cards on the table, no longer pretending. “If I cannot cross, you will never know anything about the Lord of Purple Star in this lifetime.”
Ruan Wei was so angry his scales stood on end. Finally, he glared fiercely at Shu Yang and flicked his tail.
Just as Shu Yang thought Ruan Wei was going to strike him with his tail and prepared to raise his hand to defend himself, Ruan Wei transformed into a dragon over three meters long. He hovered slowly beside him, raised his head, and breathed dragon fire: “Get on.”
He looked back, warning Shu Yang: “But you are not allowed to tell anyone that I turned into a dragon for you to ride.”
Shu Yang raised an eyebrow, reached out, and placed his hand on the dragon’s back, vaulting up. He then leaned toward Ruan Wei’s ear and whispered with a laugh: “Understood, Young Palace Master.”
The warm, ticklish sensation traveled from his ear all the way to his tailbone. Ruan Wei immediately spewed a mouthful of dragon breath and bolted forward, nearly causing Shu Yang, who had not sat steady, to fall into the floodwaters.
Shu Yang: “…”
He suddenly felt that Ruan Wei in the illusion had been cuter. After all, the Ruan Wei in the illusion would turn into a small dragon for him to pet and was obedient, unlike this one, who was full of prickles.