bullyxtreme V.4.287.
V.4.287.
The white wave and the wither flame collide again and again.They grind against each other.
Devour.
Reform.
Neither side yields.
The white energy freezes and purifies.
The dark green flame rots and erodes.
Each breath becomes a clash.
Each moment stretches into resistance.
Yet neither force can overcome the other.
The balance holds.
Then,
The Wither Dragon changes.
Its body shudders.
Splits.
Collapses inward,
And explodes outward.
It breaks into billions of tiny insects.
Each one carries a fragment of its will.
Each one glows with dim green decay.
They scatter across the entire spirit space.
A swarm without end.
They surge toward Diexin from every direction.
Devouring.
Invading.
Overwhelming.
Diexin does not move.
Her eyes remain calm.
A field unfolds.
White ash drifts into existence around her.
Soft.
Silent.
Endless.
The White Ash Field expands.
The first insects enter.
They wither instantly.
Their bodies collapse into dust.
The dust dissolves into the field.
More insects rush in.
More die.
More dust.
The field grows.
Expands.
Spreads.
The swarm continues its assault.
Yet the result never changes.
Anything that enters is erased.
Broken down.
Absorbed.
The White Ash Field enlarges with every death.
Faster.
Wider.
Until it blankets the entire spirit space.
There is nowhere left to escape.
The insects tremble.
Their movements are slow.
Their will falters.
The consciousness of the Wither Dragon gathers, trying to resist.
Trying to reform.
Trying to fight back.
But the field suppresses everything.
Its struggles weaken.
Its resistance collapses.
Futile.
Diexin steps forward.
Her consciousness enters the core.
Into the Wither Dragon’s mind.
Threads of thought stretch endlessly within.
Wild.
Chaotic.
Corrosive.
She reaches out.
One thread.
Then another.
She touches them.
Transforms them.
Each thread shifts.
Changes.
Becomes hers.
One by one.
Piece by piece.
The Wither Dragon’s consciousness is rewritten.
Its will dissolves.
Replaced.
Assimilated.
Until nothing remains but Diexin.
Silence falls.
Then,
Power surges.
The essence of the Wither Dragon flows into her.
It pours into her being.
Merging.
Transforming.
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Her life essence evolves.
Refines.
Elevates.
Her entire existence changes.
Within that transformation,
Clarity appears.
Absolute.
Pure.
She perceives her soul.
For the first time.
She gathers it.
Condenses it.
Unifies it.
Then,
Her soul rises.
It leaps out of her body.
It ascends.
Heaven and earth respond.
A vast force descends.
Baptism begins.
Her soul is washed by the world itself.
She feels the rules.
The laws.
The truths that govern everything.
They become visible.
Clear.
Open.
Like an endless book unfolding before her.
She reads.
She understands.
Knowledge floods her.
Endless.
Boundless.
Her perception expands without limit.
Outside,
Her body begins to fade.
Dissolving.
Breaking apart into particles of light.
Returning to heaven and earth.
Yuanheng arrives.
He stops.
His eyes widen.
“What is happening?” he asks.
Beside him, a Soul Awakening cultivator from the Song royal family watches intently.
“Her mind has sunk into the rules of heaven and earth,” he says.
Yuanheng frowns.
He does not understand.
He has only reached the Origin Rune stage.
He is a warrior.
Not a spiritual refiner, he does not understand the tribulation faced when breaking into the Soul Awakening Stage.
Yuanheng turns, unease rising in his chest.
“Is it dangerous?” he asks.
The elder beside him watches Diexin closely.
“If she fails to return in time,” he says slowly, “her soul will dissolve into the Dao, and she will return to heaven and earth as a Daotist.”
Yuanheng’s expression tightens.
“What does that mean?” he presses.
“What is a Daotist? What does returning to heaven and earth mean?”
His voice trembles.
He looks between the two elders, panic surfacing.
“Please… tell me it is not what I think it is.”
He already understands.
But he refuses to accept it.
Before the elder can answer,
Chu Feng speaks.
“She is dying.”
His voice is low.
Certain.
His gaze shifts.
It lands on Ziqi.
Ziqi stands at a distance, arms crossed, expression calm, unmoving as if nothing in this world can disturb him.
“Do something,” Chu Feng says, tension rising in his voice.
“Can your lord not intervene?”
Ziqi remains silent.
His eyes stay on Diexin.
Steady.
Unshaken.
He believes.
If she lives, it is because the City Lord wills it.
If she dies, it is because the City Lord accepts it.
So he waits.
Without a word.
Chu Feng stares at him for a moment.
No response comes.
No movement.
Nothing.
He turns away.
Back to Diexin.
Her body continues to fade.
Her feet are already gone.
Particles of light drift upward, dissolving into the air.
“She needs to wake up,” he thinks.
He steps forward.
The moment his foot crosses the boundary,
A crushing force descends.
His body jerks.
His knees buckle.
The pressure of heaven and earth slams into him like an invisible mountain.
A field has formed.
Not by her.
But by the world itself.
A sacred boundary.
A protection.
A trial.
No one may interfere.
No one may enter.
Chu Feng grits his teeth.
But he cannot take another step.
Forming a field before stepping into the Soul Awakening Stage grants an overwhelming advantage.
The consciousness within the natal object becomes easier to suppress.
Control becomes clearer.
Victory becomes closer.
Yet the danger deepens.
With a greater understanding of heaven and earth comes a deeper perception.
When the soul leaves the body, it does not merely glimpse the Dao.
It stares into it.
The deeper the gaze,
The easier it is to sink.
To lose oneself.
To never return.
Every opportunity carries its price.
Every gain walks beside danger.
Yet there is reward.
If Diexin awakens at the final moment,
What she has seen will remain.
Her understanding of heaven and earth will far exceed that of others in her realm.
Her Dao will advance rapidly.
The years required to reach the mid-level of Soul Awakening will shorten drastically.
They watch.
Silently.
Helplessly.
Her body continues to fade.
From the feet.
To the legs.
To the waist.
To the chest.
Until only her head remains.
Particles of light drift upward.
Vanishing into the sky.
Chu Feng’s expression breaks.
He drops to his knees.
His fist slams into the ground.
A dull sound echoes.
His head lowers.
He clenches his teeth.
And for the first time,
He cries.
At that moment,
A sound emerges.
A dragon’s roar.
It does not come from the sky.
Nor the river.
It comes from Ziqi.
Low.
Ancient.
Resonant.
Ziqi’s calm expression does not change.
But from his body,
A small violet dragon emerges.
It coils outward, its form radiant and pure, carrying an authority that does not belong to this battlefield.
It does not hesitate.
It does not pause.
It ignores the field of heaven and earth completely.
As if such a boundary does not exist for it.
It flies forward.
And enters Diexin.
The moment it touches her,
Her body trembles.
Violently.
The fading stops.
The drifting particles reverse.
Light gathers.
Reforms.
Her body reconstructs.
Bone.
Flesh.
Blood.
Everything returns.
The pressure of heaven and earth begins to recede.
The field weakens.
Then collapses.
Silence follows.
Her body settles.
Adjusting.
Refining.
Perfecting.
Her black hair fades.
Colour drains.
Turning into a soft ash white.
Her closed eyes tremble,
Then open.
Silver.
Cold.
Endless.
A breath leaves her lips.
Within it,
The presence of a dragon.
And the aura of a Soul Awakening cultivator.
She stands reborn, her presence no longer belonging to the fragile girl who once struggled beneath the weight of others, but to someone who has crossed a boundary few can even perceive, let alone survive.
Later, she walks through what was once her home, her steps unhurried yet carrying an invisible weight, as if each footfall presses down not on stone, but on memories that refuse to fade.
The gates open for her without resistance, yet there is no warmth in the gesture, only a silent acknowledgement of authority that has replaced familiarity.
The courtyard greets her with a strange stillness, where even the air feels different, as though the past has been quietly erased and rewritten in her absence.
Servants lower their heads as she passes, their movements stiff and cautious, not out of respect born from affection, but from fear rooted deep within uncertainty.
She enters her old room, pausing at the threshold for a brief moment, as if expecting something within to call out to her.
But nothing does.
Everything has changed.
The furniture is different, arranged without care for what once stood there, while unfamiliar decorations occupy spaces that once held fragments of her life.
Drawers are left slightly open, fabrics misplaced, and objects scattered in quiet disorder, as if the room itself has forgotten its past owner.
There is not a single trace of her remaining.
Not a scent.
Not a mark.
Not even a lingering presence.
She stands there for a moment longer, her gaze steady yet distant, before turning away without a word, leaving behind what no longer belongs to her.
She moves through the house in silence, her perception sweeping through every corner, every corridor, searching not with hope, but with certainty.
Her father is not here.
Her former stepmother is not here.
Her two stepbrothers are not here.
Their absence is absolute, leaving behind a hollow emptiness that speaks louder than any explanation.
Only silence answers her.
She makes her way to the office.
Inside, the most important figures of the city stand gathered, their expressions tight, their breaths measured, as though even the act of standing in her presence requires effort.
They do not speak.
They do not dare.
Because they all understand one simple truth,
From this moment onward, their lives rest entirely in her hands.
Diexin takes her seat with quiet composure, her movements neither hurried nor slow, but perfectly controlled, as if the world itself aligns with her rhythm.
She does not raise her voice.
She does not display anger.
Yet every word she speaks carries a weight that presses into their very souls, making resistance feel meaningless.
Decisions are made.
Fates are determined.
Not only whether they are allowed to live,
But what kind of lives will they be permitted to have from this day forward?
By the time the meeting ends, no one lingers.
They leave swiftly, their steps careful, their backs slightly bent, as though afraid that even a moment of hesitation might draw her attention once more.
When the room empties, Diexin rises and walks toward the balcony of her father’s chamber.
She steps out into the open air, where the city stretches endlessly beneath her gaze, alive and unaware of how close it came to ruin.
Yulan City breathes as it always has, yet to her, it feels different, as though she now sees not just its surface, but the threads that hold it together.
A presence descends behind her.
Soft.
Familiar.
Chu Feng lands beside her, his arrival quiet, yet impossible to ignore.
She glances at him briefly, her silver eyes reflecting something deeper than emotion, and within his face, she immediately sees the worry he tries to conceal.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice calm yet sincere, carrying neither hesitation nor excess warmth.
“For coming to help.”
Chu Feng lets out a faint, self-deprecating smile, one that does not reach his eyes, as he lowers his gaze slightly toward the city below.
He understands something she does not say aloud,
That even if he had not come, she would have survived.
And when her life had truly hung by a thread, when the boundary between existence and disappearance had nearly claimed her,
He had once again been unable to protect her.
Yet someone else had intervened.
Someone who was not even present.
“I suppose,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a trace of bitterness he does not attempt to hide, “you made the right choice.”
“In choosing to marry Merin… instead of me.”
Diexin keeps her gaze fixed on the city below, her expression unchanged, yet her silence speaks louder than any response she could offer.
She does not know what to say.
Or perhaps,
There is nothing that can be said.
The space between them stretches, filled with words that remain unspoken.
So she shifts the conversation.
“Did you come for a reason?” she asks, her tone steady, returning to something safer, something distant.
Chu Feng’s expression steadies as he lifts his head, the earlier vulnerability fading beneath a layer of resolve.
“I am leaving,” he says.
Diexin turns slightly, her eyes settling on him with quiet focus, sensing that his words carry more than their surface meaning.
Chu Feng continues, his voice lowering just enough to carry the weight of what comes next.
“The Zhao Royal Family…”
He pauses for a brief moment, as if allowing the truth to settle before he speaks it fully.
“…has betrayed the alliance.”
Diexin falls silent, the calm in her eyes deepening as the implications begin to unfold within her mind.