Chapter 74 - 59: How Tragic Is It?
The overwhelming Sword Gang slashed through the sky, turning into a rain of blood. The vicious flood dragon, before it could fully manifest the fragmented dharma body of the Dragon King, was severed in two from head to tail. The White-clothed Swordsman, ambushing with lethal intent, abruptly retracted his force, narrowly dodging this sword. The Sword Gang pierced through the entire northern river outside the capital.
In the river, fish swam chaotically in all directions. Yet those struck by the Sword Gang remained unharmed, a testament to the purity of the Living Sword’s principles.
But Chen Yi felt as if he had narrowly been cleaved in two by that sword.
When the Fourth Rank Swordsman charged at him, in that fleeting moment, all his thoughts were extinguished. Everything before his eyes slowed to a crawl, and he suddenly felt as though he were tumbling through a fleeting montage of life.
At that time, everything fell silent. There was no sound—neither from the false Door God, the shrimp soldiers and crab generals, the White-clothed Swordsman, nor the vicious flood dragon. They all lost their voices, their outlines blurred. It seemed as though only he, and this torrential rain, existed in the entire world.
What a boundless, unrelenting rain it was—falling silently, without pause. How many lives had perished in this rain? How much blood had flowed? And yet, it remained silent. As he turned back in astonishment, dazed, he realized that he’d never before noticed such a silent rain.
Chen Yi gasped for breath, shaking himself back to reality, only to find the wooden boat split in two. He stood on one half, while the Short Door God, at some point, had been thrown into the water by shrimp soldiers and drowned.
Seeing this scene, Chen Yi felt as though some part of himself had been cleaved away—suddenly gone. Having walked so close to death’s door, some things no longer seemed so important. Yet, at that moment, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what those things were.
Dragging himself slowly ashore from the river, Chen Yi—soaking wet—pressed a hand to his head. He glanced down at his tattered robes, and for a moment, lacked even the will to change them. Suddenly, as he pondered, he realized that he no longer harbored a desire for fame or fortune.
"What... is happening to me?"