They walked along the stone path as it trembled beneath their feet. When they looked back at the place where the immortal had once resided, it was sinking slowly like the last glow of sunset.
Golden-white spiritual light scattered through the air, like fragments of a fading era, offering a final farewell to a chapter of history.
Meanwhile, Xuanxiao Immortal Venerable returned to the treasure chamber and stopped before the small puppet statue. He stood there for a long time, gazing at the blurred, clumsy face.
Slowly, he raised his hand. His fingers paused in midair—then ultimately lowered.
“You said this was… the first gift you ever gave me.”
He let out a soft laugh, a faint tremor hidden within it.
“You claimed you carved it for me, yet you reversed the nose and mouth. I was startled on the spot.”
“But you looked so proud. You insisted I had to accept it.”
“…I did. I never threw it away.”
He spoke in a low voice, as though addressing the boy buried deep in memory—the red-haired youth who had arrived with wounds and fire in his eyes, who had never once bowed his head.
“Later, you grew up. You became steadier… from a battered boy… into someone capable of bearing an entire race upon your shoulders.”
He lowered his gaze, his voice nearly soundless.
“You thought I did not know why you always found excuses to see me? That I did not understand the way you looked at me?”
“…I knew. I always knew.”
“I refused you because I knew my path would not be long. I was the vessel of the seal—the lock of this immortal palace. As long as this palace stood, I could neither leave nor live for long.”
“I did not dare keep you here. You were so bright, so stubborn. How could I bear to watch you trapped beside me, waiting bit by bit for death?”
“When you told me you were to be wed, I thought you would find happiness. After all, you were strong… radiant.”
“Even if you never understood why I slipped that ring onto your ring finger… it does not matter.”
He paused. His eyes softened like still water, a faint smile rising to his lips.
“You no longer need me. That is good… That way… I can leave in peace.”
He looked at the puppet as if looking at that once-burning soul.
Red hair wild and brilliant. Eyes blazing. Always standing before him, looking up, calling him “Immortal Venerable.”
“It is finally ending,” he murmured. There was no regret in his voice—only release.
In his final thoughts flashed the images of Gu Qing and Milton. A gentle smile touched his lips.
“I hope those two children… may have a different ending.”
With that, he lifted his hand and dispelled the final protective spell around the statue.
The barrier shattered instantly. The main hall convulsed. Pillars collapsed. The earth roared.
The crudely carved puppet was buried beneath falling immortal stone, crushed into dust.
Xuanxiao Immortal Venerable gave it one last look.
There was no pain in his eyes. No remorse. Only a tenderness unspoken for a thousand years—and a smile almost serene.
His figure dissolved into countless motes of light, scattering quietly into the wind, like smoke, like a dream—finally freed from the palace that had bound him for so long.
—
Gu Qing and Milton stood upon a distant mountain peak, watching the immortal palace meet its end.
There was no billowing dust, no crumbling ruins. The ancient, sacred palace dissolved slowly in the evening light into innumerable fragments of spiritual radiance, drifting like stars across heaven and earth, bidding the world a quiet farewell.
It was a silent send-off, as though the heavens themselves conducted his funeral—solemn and mournful—for the immortal who had guarded a lonely city alone.
Milton recalled the subtle traces they had found within the palace: the unremarkable wooden puppet cherished for so long, the immaculate yet empty chamber, the exquisitely crafted ring.
What once seemed insignificant now felt like relics buried for a thousand years—evidence of a love no one had ever known.
He had seen the Immortal Venerable—gentle, restrained, devoted to all living beings.
He could not help but wonder: had that red-haired female Zerg truly seen him as he was?
If he had… how could he have borne to betray him?
Or was it that once power was grasped in hand, there was no longer room in one’s eyes for the one who had once saved him?
What truths had the Empire’s history concealed?
Beside him, Gu Qing’s expression was grave, yet a resolute fire burned in his eyes. The immortal who had carried the world in his heart had entrusted everything to him.
In a voice nearly lost to the wind, Gu Qing said,
“The remnant demon souls—I will eradicate them. This world—I will protect.”
For a moment, heaven and earth fell silent. Only drifting starlight and the low murmur of wind remained, as though mourning what had passed.
But the stillness did not last.
In the distance, the air convulsed violently. A surge of frigid demonic qi swept forward like a storm. Ancient demon remnants broke free of their seals, their howls shattering the sky.
Gu Qing had already prepared.
Within the immortal palace, he had silently absorbed its spiritual energy. The cultivation that had lain dormant for years surged once more through his meridians. With it awakened his natal sword, long sealed—
Tianyuan Sword.
With a lift of his hand, silver light gathered from the void like flowing silk.
The blade emerged.
Its body was like a silver moon forged in starlight, cold and profound, as if capable of devouring all things. Ancient jade adorned the hilt, glowing faintly, runes interwoven across it with primordial grace.
Standing in the wind, robes billowing, Gu Qing spoke coldly:
“Since you have come out, do not return.”
Sword qi cascaded like a silver waterfall, rending heaven and earth. A streak of silver tore across the sky.
The demon remnants had no time to wail before dissolving into ash beneath the boundless sword intent—souls utterly extinguished.
Milton stood at a distance, eyes fixed upon that solitary, towering figure.
He had always believed Gu Qing needed him.
But in this moment, he realized—
Perhaps Gu Qing had never truly relied on him at all.
He thought again of the Immortal Venerable, who had borne an entire world alone and perished in silence.
No.
He would never allow Gu Qing to walk that path.
Within his spiritual sea, the Little Dumpling curled into a tiny trembling ball.
“Why… why did someone so good have to disappear?” it choked. “But he gave all his hope to us…”
Gu Qing said nothing. He buried the grief deeper.
The immortal light had faded. The war had not.
He would walk forward—until everything was brought to its end.
Milton stepped closer and stood at his side, fingers tightening slightly.
He asked nothing. He said nothing. He only carved his resolve into bone and blood.
Even if he could never step into that light, he would stand beside it—until the very end.
—
At the instant the last afterglow of the immortal palace vanished, deep within the galaxy, a remote and barren planet flickered faintly.
Far underground, hidden in darkness, lay a cramped laboratory.
The space was lined with dense formations and suspended crystals. Spiritual arrays intertwined with advanced technology, forming a harmony both discordant and eerie. Runes and monitoring data shimmered in the air like a silent ritual in motion.
At the center stood a cultivation pod of silver and black alloy.
Within it lay a sleeping female Zerg.
Red hair drifted around his face. His features were sharp and cold—almost identical to the image Gu Qing and Milton had seen within the light screen: the emperor who had once unified the Empire at its founding.
But now he lay suspended in nutrient fluid, motionless—like a forgotten deity preserved for a thousand years.
Outside the pod, several indistinct figures stood behind the glow of formations. Their murmured voices drifted like curses from a nightmare.
“…The Immortal Venerable is finally gone.”
“We have waited too long for this moment…”
“The next step… can begin.”
Inside the pod, the red-haired female Zerg’s fingertip twitched—almost imperceptibly.