Chapter 1931: Lost Feelings

Chapter 1931: Vanished Affection

Clang! Crack! Bang!

The sounds echoed relentlessly, sharp and piercing, as numerous magical artifacts shattered under Ye Chen's single palm strike.

The eldest Di Zi glared with bloodshot eyes, unleashing his Emperor Dao immortal technique to summon a colossal figure, a demonic idol from beyond the orthodox path. This was his trump card, his final hope.

Boom!

Ye Chen's palm struck the demonic idol, making it hum and tremble, but it did not shatter. Undeterred, he followed with another strike, demolishing the towering idol on the spot.

Puff!

The eldest Di Zi was utterly defeated, unable to withstand Ye Chen's palm. His limbs, organs, meridians, including his core essence, divine sea, and primordial spirit, crumbled inch by inch.

Ah!

In his final moments, he roared once more, a cry from the depths of his soul, filled with resentment, fury, and sorrow.

What glory it was for a family to produce three Di Zi, yet in a single day, they were all extinguished. In death, how could he face their forefathers? The Emperor's prestige had been utterly tarnished by them.

Ye Chen showed no joy or sorrow as he walked slowly through the roar, continuing his bloody path deeper into the starry expanse.

The heavens trembled, and Honghuang shook. Even the two supreme beings in the underworld felt a profound stir in their hearts.

They still stood on the Boundary Nether Mountain, gazing silently at the heavens. The supreme beings' eyes held a distant haze, for Ye Chen's path of slaughter was one they had both walked. To become supreme, each had trodden over piles of bones and rivers of blood. Watching Ye Chen was like seeing their younger selves.

Neither supreme being denied it: at the same level, they could not match Ye Chen. In terms of defying the heavens in battle, no one could surpass him. His existence was unparalleled throughout eternity, dominating all who came after.

Only after some time did the starry sky fall into silence, Ye Chen's killing finally at an end.

Amid the swirling blood mist, Ye Chen gripped his killing sword and staggered through the stars, his back figure desolate.

He was no longer in his bloodline limit state. His dominant sacred body was covered in deep bloody gashes, with bones and sinews exposed in places. His disheveled long hair, stained with fresh blood, swayed in the stellar winds.

He had won, once again forcing Honghuang to retreat in defeat.

But he had also lost, triumphing over Honghuang yet losing his beloved. The vanished affection could never be reclaimed.

Gazing at his figure, the cultivators of the heavens fell silent, deeply moved. He was shrouded in desolation, like a war god at the end of days. Though in the prime of his life, he appeared unbearably aged.

In a daze, people could still see behind him a road of blood, paved with bones—from great emperors to imperial princes—truly a mountain of corpses and a river of blood.

His path was one of glory, every step forged in battle. He was a living legend.

A gentle breeze blew, and Ye Chen swayed unsteadily, finally collapsing in the starry sky.

Donghuang Tai Xin arrived through the void, cradled him, and then vanished from the stars.

Accompanying them were Xiao Chen, Ming Jue, and Bai Zhi, all with faces full of grief.

After she left, the cultivators of the heavens stood in place for a long time, their expressions blurred and reluctant to move on. They had watched Ye Chen fight his way through, a war god, a demon god, a killing god, and an unyielding madman. Yet it was this madman who had written legend after legend.

Turning to the Honghuang clans, their suffering was truly profound.

Since Ye Chen's rebirth, their losses had grown increasingly devastating. Nearly all their imperial princes and crown princes were wiped out. In this battle, over thirty Di Zi had been slain, with more than eighty percent falling to Ye Chen's hand. Countless other Honghuang experts had perished—losses beyond measure.

"He must die." The Honghuang experts gnashed their teeth, their faces twisted like vengeful ghosts. They only awaited their Di Zi to regroup. Without the bloodline limit to aid him, battling Ye Chen might not end in defeat.

In the morning, Hengyue Sect was peaceful and harmonious.

On Jade Maiden Peak, the laughter of children rang out, tender and clear. A group of little ones played on the grass, chasing and frolicking with unsteady steps, like tiny sprites, innocent and radiant.

The women were all there, watching quietly, their eyes filled with maternal tenderness.

This ordinary scene was precious and touching.

Soon, the little ones stopped their play and lifted their faces toward the void.

Someone descended from the emptiness—it was Donghuang Tai Xin.

The women rose and bowed in respect.

Donghuang Tai Xin said nothing, merely waving her sleeve to release Ye Chen, Ming Jue, Bai Zhi, and Xiao Chen. Ye Chen was unconscious, while the others were covered in blood and wounds. As soon as they landed, those who could stand barely managed, nearly collapsing, before spitting out blood.

The women rushed forward in alarm, their expressions pale. Seeing that Ye Chen was not in mortal danger, they breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Ah!

Donghuang Tai Xin sighed softly, uttered no words, and turned to leave.

What about Ji Ningshuang?

The women shifted their gaze from Donghuang Tai Xin to the three others.

Ah!

The three sighed as well, not speaking, only handing over a jade slip.

The women's brows furrowed slightly, a sense of foreboding rising.

Chu Xuan took it, crushed the jade slip, and images flooded their minds: the slaughter in the Tianzun ruins, the blood-soaked world, Ji Ningshuang cursed, Ji Ningshuang buried in the Chaos Sea.

"This..." The women covered their mouths, their bodies trembling uncontrollably, tears welling in their eyes.

Ming Jue and the others shook their heads helplessly and departed without disturbing them. The four had left Da Chu, but only three returned. Though they had won a great victory, they had lost Ji Ningshuang—a defeat more devastating than any.

Soon, a thick wave of sorrow enveloped Jade Maiden Peak.

The people of Hengyue Sect sensed something was amiss, even the usually mischievous Situ Nan and Xie Yun growing quiet. Once they learned the truth, they could not help but curse at the heavens.

Ye Chen was moved to a room, lying still like a stone-carved statue, dusted with the weariness of time. Though his wounds had healed, the marks of age scarred him completely.

The women watched with heartache, tears streaming down their faces. The sudden turn of events was unforeseen—Ji Ningshuang's death. As Ye Chen's wife, the impact of her loss on him was unimaginable.

Little Ye Fan and Little Ye Ling were there too. Though young, they were clever and sensed the heavy atmosphere.

Especially Little Ye Fan, who kept looking around, searching for his mother.

Whenever this happened, the women could not help but wipe away tears. So young, and already without a mother—it was heartbreaking.

Ye Chen slept for three days, awakening on the fourth morning.

Daddy!

Before he could sit up, two tender calls reached his ears.

At the bedside, two little ones were crouched—one was Little Ye Ling, the other Little Ye Fan—blinking their big eyes at him. Seeing him awake, they climbed onto the bed and burrowed into his arms, rubbing their little heads against him. Ye Chen had been gone for a while, and the little ones had missed him dearly.

Ye Chen smiled, holding the two children with fatherly warmth.

But seeing Little Ye Fan in his arms, the pain overwhelmed him, and he let out a low roar. He had lost the child's mother.

The door opened, and the women entered. Seeing Ye Chen's despondent expression, they hesitated, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. This kind of pain was more cruel than any torture.

"Daddy, where's Mommy? I miss her."

Little Ye Fan's words broke the room's silence, the little one looking up with clear, innocent eyes.

His words made the women's noses sting, and their eyes instantly filled with tears.

Ye Chen cried too, tears brimming as he choked out with a smile, "Your mother has gone to a very far place."

"How far is very far?"

Little Ye Ling blinked curiously.

"Very far is just very far." Chu Ling stepped forward, took Little Ye Ling, and said, "Take your brother to play."

Uh, the little girl was well-behaved and led Little Ye Fan away.

Puff!

After the children left, Ye Chen spat out a mouthful of fresh blood and fell back.

The women hurried to his side, casting calming spells.

Night fell quietly.

Ye Chen awoke and stepped out, standing outside Little Ye Fan's door. The little one slept peacefully, occasionally murmuring "Mommy" in his dreams. Each murmur was like a knife stabbing Ye Chen's heart.

The women stood nearby, still hesitating.

Ye Chen forced a smile and turned away, sitting under an old tree. With trembling hands, he pulled out a piece of wood from his robes, gripping a carving knife and etching gently, stroke by stroke.

With each cut, a strand of his hair turned white, until his entire head was silver. His once-straight back hunched slightly, his whole being aged beyond recognition.

Wood shavings fell away, revealing the rough form of a woman—his wife.

He had never felt Ji Ningshuang's features so vividly in that moment. The woman who had once abandoned him had, after a great reincarnation, truly entered his heart.

"Ye Chen, if there is a next life, will you promise me a lifetime of affection?"

From a past life, in the Dan City grand hall, Ji Ningshuang's soft murmur echoed in his ears once more.

Their bond had followed from a past life to this one, finally bearing fruit, yet it was still filled with scars. At the edge of the stars, he would never see her smile again. They were like the delicate other shore flowers—blooming without leaves, leaves without blooms—doomed to miss each other lifetime after lifetime.

He carved wood, but contemplated life—from their first meeting to her final destruction. That span was the mortal world, where cause and effect became memories in reincarnation.

"Damned Zhuxian Sword." In Tianxuan Gate, voices filled with cold anger rang out. Seeing Ye Chen so aged, their fury grew, resenting the Zhuxian Sword and even the heavens for toying with mortals.

"He won against Honghuang but lost his love." The Chen Emperor sighed. How similar it was to his own past—winning the world but losing Yan Fei. What good was being the emperor of Da Chu if it left only eternal sorrow? Yet he was luckier than Ye Chen; after a great reincarnation, he had reunited with Yan Fei.

"The clever me always shows up at the key moment."

As the quasi-emperors mourned for Ye Chen, a casual voice chimed in.

Before the words settled, a sleazy figure sauntered in, hands tucked away, looking every bit like a thief. One glance at him made people's hands itch with the urge to drag him out and beat him senseless.

This was undoubtedly the Ren Wang. His aura was one-of-a-kind, impossible to imitate.

"You're still alive?"

Donghuang Tai Xin glanced at him.

"Look at what you're saying." Ren Wang shrugged it off, then eyed Ye Chen in the water mirror. "Don't worry, Ji Ningshuang isn't really dead."

At these words, the quasi-emperors were all stunned.

"Let's let that guy suffer a bit longer. I won't tell him just yet."

Ren Wang shook his head playfully, as infuriating as ever.