She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 88

◎Youth Fades in the Rivers and Lakes◎

Yan Luoyue had once heard of a famous ethical dilemma known as the "Trolley Problem."

The gist of it was this: a runaway trolley was speeding down the tracks toward five pedestrians who had illegally crossed the rails.

If the trolley wasn’t stopped in time, it would claim the lives of those five.

But if the driver diverted the trolley onto an abandoned side track, it would kill one person who had obeyed the rules.

As the driver, should you turn the trolley?

This problem had countless variations:

For instance, what if the five rule-breakers had just committed murder and arson, while the one law-abiding person was a doctor who had saved three hundred innocent lives?

Or what if four of the five were virtuous do-gooders, but the fifth had killed the father of the one who followed the rules?

Would you divert the trolley to spare the four virtuous souls, or would you crush the victim’s son along with the murderer?

This was a question with no correct answer, no clear right or wrong.

The most correct and standard approach was to never face such a dilemma in the first place.

...

Chu Tiankuo, of course, had never heard of the "Trolley Problem."

But that didn’t stop him from seeing through the sinister intentions of the gray mist in the blink of an eye.

"Fine," Chu Tiankuo said with a laugh.

At the same time, the silver-robed youth drew his sword and turned sharply.

The cold gleam of the three-foot blade was like the eternal snow atop a mountain peak, while the fierce sword aura was more merciless than the bitter winds of midwinter.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Chu Tiankuo spun around and pierced straight through the gray mist!

The next instant, Chu Tiankuo’s limbs were seized by the mist once more.

The gray fog split in two under the sword’s force, only to merge back together in the next breath.

The demonic entity let out a sinister cackle, its voice dripping with malice:

"Bold and decisive. But whether it’s sword energy, spells, talismans, or divine light, none can harm me in the slightest."

The flat, shapeless mist stretched outward before contracting again, like a human lazily stretching its limbs in a yawn.

Perhaps because the attack had failed to wound it, the mist didn’t even bother punishing Chu Tiankuo for his defiance.

It released his limbs once more and coldly commanded:

"Now, let’s return to what you must do—choose one of these two to kill."

The next moment, the sword flashed.

The three-foot blade moved without hesitation, swift as lightning, aiming straight for Chu Tiankuo’s own neck.

Through the shimmering veil of sword light, the demon saw Chu Tiankuo standing tall, his back straight and his eyes bright.

Just before the blade could strike, the young man gave it a mocking grin.

"..."

The gray mist yanked Chu Tiankuo’s arm back just in time.

Its form rippled in midair, as if irritated by his defiance.

Though the blade hadn’t touched flesh, the sword’s energy had already left its mark.

A thin red line appeared on Chu Tiankuo’s neck, tiny beads of blood welling up and trickling down, staining the silver robes at his collar.

The mist said irritably, "I told you to choose between these two to kill, not to kill yourself."

Chu Tiankuo’s body was immobilized, his limbs stiff and unyielding.

Yet, hearing the mist’s rebuke, he raised an eyebrow and grinned, flashing a row of white teeth.

"My sword doesn’t kill others—only myself."

"Guess what, you fiend? I won’t play your game."

If today the mist forced him to choose between a hardened criminal and an innocent village woman, what about tomorrow?

Would it be a thief and a frail old man next?

And the day after? The day after that?

In a small town like Shancha, how many irredeemable criminals could there possibly be?

If he kept making these choices, sooner or later, he’d go from executing felons to first-time offenders. And once the prison cells were empty, the ones in the wooden cages would be the most innocent townsfolk.

There was a geographical phenomenon called quicksand.

When a traveler first steps into it, the sand might only reach their ankles. But soon, it rises to their calves, then their thighs, their waist, their chest—until even their head is swallowed.

The more the victim struggles, the deeper they sink. Without outside help, they can only watch as they’re slowly consumed.

So the wisest choice is never to take that first step onto the quicksand.

The mist let out a questioning hum, and Chu Tiankuo’s arms twisted behind his back as if bound by invisible ropes.

Agony tore through his shoulders, but he only threw his head back and laughed.

"Getting angry so easily?"

The mist drifted behind him, out of his line of sight. Still, Chu Tiankuo shot it a sidelong glance full of disdain.

"The more a beast bares its fangs, the weaker it shows itself to be. The more you try to break me with these tricks, the more you prove your own helplessness."

The shadowy figure growled, "Then what are you laughing at?"

Chu Tiankuo laughed even louder. "I laugh because I want to. What’s it to you?"

This demon had placed him in such a cruel dilemma just to see his pain, regret, despair, and sorrow.

So Chu Tiankuo would laugh—laugh loudly and without restraint!

If a friend asked for his help, Chu Tiankuo would stake everything he had. If his junior siblings needed him, he’d give his life without hesitation.

But the more his enemies tried to take from him, the more he’d withhold.

If they fed on his grief and despair, then Chu Tiankuo would be like an unyielding spring—crushed to the limit, only to rebound with even greater force, starving them to death with his defiance!

"You laugh well now," the mist sneered. "But don’t forget—you still have two junior siblings..."

Chu Tiankuo’s laughter faded slightly, but the smile remained on his lips.

"True, I have two junior siblings whom I treasure dearly."

He declared, "And that’s exactly why I believe they’d never falter either."

"If you forced them to make this choice, they’d slit their own throats faster than I did—quicker, sooner. When the three of us meet in the afterlife, it’ll be a reunion worthy of our bond in this life."

"..."

The mist rippled, as if searching for another way to control him.

Soon, it drawled, "I could just force you to drive your sword through that village woman’s heart..."

Chu Tiankuo spat contemptuously on the ground.

"Of course you could. But I’ve only ever heard of executioners being sentenced to death for their crimes—never the blade they wielded."

"If you wield me like a sword, then I shall become a sword. I’d rather draw my blade and slit my own throat afterward, offering her a hundred—no, a thousand—apologies in death, than fall for your demonic schemes."

"..."

The gray mist erupted violently, surging upward before crashing back down.

At the same time, Chu Tiankuo was forced to his knees by an unseen force, his kneecaps striking the stone with a bone-shattering crack.

His arms remained twisted behind his back, the muscles in his shoulders torn, bruises and congealed blood darkening beneath his skin.

The young man’s spine, once straight and proud, was bent under the pressure until his forehead, veins bulging, pressed against the ground.

Yet even in this humiliating, submissive posture, Chu Tiankuo’s laughter never ceased.

Dust choked his throat as he coughed between bursts of mirth, reciting loudly:

"I am an unyielding copper pea—unsteamed, unboiled, unflattened, unbroken, ringing true…"

"Even if you knock out my teeth, twist my mouth, cripple my legs, or break my hands—these afflictions Heaven bestowed upon me—I still refuse to yield."

...

Chu Tiankuo was thrown back into the empty room where he’d been imprisoned before.

The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‍gray mist hovered near the ceiling like a storm cloud, slow and oppressive.

Lying on the wooden bed, Chu Tiankuo didn’t even need to lift his head to face it.

With deliberate curiosity, he probed, "Earlier, you said sword energy, spells, talismans, even Buddhist or Daoist radiance can’t harm you. When my blade sliced through you, it felt weightless—like cutting through air."

The mist, of course, wasn’t foolish enough to reveal its weaknesses.

It drifted above him, coldly observing Chu Tiankuo’s ceaseless chatter.

"If ordinary things can’t even touch you, think of all the joys you’ve missed in your demonic existence."

Chu Tiankuo’s eyes flickered as he mused, half to himself, half to the mist.

His tone was playful, his imagination boundless:

"Take spring, for instance—the perfect season for kite-flying. With your jagged, uneven shape, you’d make a uniquely striking kite. Just tie a string to your tail, and you’re ready to soar."

"Actually, you wouldn’t even need wind to lift you. If I fastened a line to you, I’d win every kite competition this year."

He laughed at the image he’d conjured.

The mist endured his rambling until it could bear no more.

Its voice, neither male nor female, was thin and icy: "You’ve been talking nonstop for two full hours."

"True enough," Chu Tiankuo grinned. "I’ve even gone hoarse. Care to offer me some tea?"

If the mist had eyes, its glare would’ve been murderous—plotting how to make him bite off his own tongue and swallow it bloody.

Unfazed, Chu Tiankuo continued breezily:

"I’ve talked for two hours, yet you’ve stayed hovering just above me, neither close nor far… So, feeding on joy doesn’t hurt you, does it?"

The mist let out a sinister chuckle.

"So that’s your game. But even if you talk yourself raw, I won’t suffer. In fact, I might even savor a bite or two."

Chu Tiankuo seized the opening: "Ah, so you can feed on happiness—you’re just picky."

Raising a brow, he adopted a conspiratorial tone:

"Between us, Brother Demon, what’s the flavor of negative emotions? Sweet? Salty? To me, it sounds like rancid swill. Dining on that daily must be downright miserable."

The mist sneered. "A delicacy beyond human comprehension."

"Really?" Chu Tiankuo scoffed. "More like stinky feet."

Without pause, he rattled off a list of revolting comparisons, each more nauseating than the last:

"The reek of a lumberjack’s socks? A skunk’s armpit? A corpse bubbling with maggots after three days? Or maybe—"

The mist endured this for half a cup of tea’s time before snapping.

Meanwhile, Chu Tiankuo, as if reciting a menu, showed no signs of stopping. He even began rhyming for effect!

Suddenly, his teeth clacked against his tongue with unnatural force. "—Ow!"

Silence, at last.

But moments later, Chu Tiankuo, lisping from the injury, grinned:

"You like to eat, I like to eat—seems we’re at an impasse."

"How about this: Prepare me a feast, and I’ll savor every dish while you sample my emotions—roast duck, braised eel, crab roe sauce, cherry-glazed pork. I guarantee each course will taste different."

The mist saw through the ruse instantly.

It growled, "Why not preach vegetarianism to a tiger while you’re at it?"

Chu Tiankuo smiled. "Release the three of us, and the first tiger I meet, I’ll convert."

"Dream on."

"Then dreaming’s the only way you’ll silence me." He resumed his litany:

"Negative emotions? More like moldy jam scraped from a cellar wall, or a decade’s worth of duck coop stench—"

"...Enough," the mist rumbled.

Yet that very evening, a lavish meal arrived at his door.

Disarmed and with only two fingers and his elbows free, Chu Tiankuo ate heartily, mixing sauces into his rice with relish.

"Honestly, I’ve experience in adjusting tastes," he said between bites.

"As a child, I hated vegetables. Eating greens felt harder than converting tigers. Then my master punished me with a month of monastic fare. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I grew to love it!" Chu Tiankuo laughed. "Food is food! A month of greens, and I tasted sweetness in everything—spinach’s earthy sugar, lettuce’s crisp freshness, radish’s juicy bite, even cilantro’s bitter tang..."

Leaning in, he posed a pointed question: "Even if you shaved me bald and locked me in a temple for twenty years, I’d adapt. Tastes can change, can’t they?"

"..."

The mist said nothing.

But in Chu Tiankuo’s overflowing emotions, it tasted a sliver of hope.

...

The hope vanished as silently as it had come.

The next day, the same desolate field with two large wooden cages remained.

Chu Tiankuo clenched his jaw, veins bulging visibly on the back of his immobilized hand as he stared at the scene before him.

Through gritted teeth, he spat out, "You—"

The man and woman who had originally been locked in separate cages were now inexplicably confined together.

The criminal, his hair matted and reeking, flashed Chu Tiankuo a wild, deranged grin—the kind of provocation only a man who knew he had reached the end of his road would dare to hurl at the world.

As for the village woman…

She lay dead, her coarse clothing torn to shreds, her body exposed.

Fresh blood, still uncoagulated, seeped slowly from beneath her, staining the earth a deep, sickening crimson.

The gray mist hovered leisurely above Chu Tiankuo:

"This man is a bandit sentenced to execution after autumn. He’s guilty of over a dozen crimes—murder, plunder, rape… I did warn you."

Chu Tiankuo’s voice was low and heavy. "But you didn’t say… you’d lock them together."

If the mist had a face, it would surely be smirking. "Indeed. Will you blame me for it?"

The demon murmured, almost whispering, "Go ahead, pin the guilt on me. That way, you can remain pure, remain blameless—still pretend this woman was doomed to die anyway. Even though you could’ve saved her yesterday."

"……"

The gray haze, thick as a storm cloud, writhed in midair like a fat, dust-covered maggot.

It gleefully prompted, "Do you know when she died?"

"—Last night, while you were laughing and drinking with me, trying to persuade a tiger to eat grass, luring me to ‘change my tastes.’"

That faint trace of hope was gone, replaced by pure hatred.

The mist made a wet, smacking sound, chuckling with malice.

"Didn’t you swear you’d never let me win?"

"Go on, Chu Tiankuo—laugh! Why not keep laughing, keep reveling, keep your unyielding cheer…"

The muscles at the corners of Chu Tiankuo’s eyes twitched violently.

To yield so easily to the enemy would be to surrender his will.

But if he could still find joy in this sight before him, wouldn’t that make him heartless?

Inside the cage, the criminal burst into laughter instead.

He threw himself against the wooden bars, his eyes gleaming with the greedy hunger of a wolf.

"Hell yeah! After nine months in a cell, I finally got to taste meat again last night. Never thought I’d get such a treat before kicking the bucket!"

"……"

That squirming maggot in the sky seemed to burrow into Chu Tiankuo’s guts, tearing him open from within.

The mist released its hold on him, yet Chu Tiankuo didn’t immediately draw his sword.

He trembled—first his hands, then an arm, until his entire body shook.

Nausea surged up his throat, yesterday’s meal and stomach acid rising together.

Chu Tiankuo retched violently, as if trying to bury himself in the filth now covering the ground.

The gray mist feigned sympathy. "None of this is your fault, of course. I haven’t even wielded you like a blade yet. Don’t fall for my tricks."

"……"

Bent halfway over, Chu Tiankuo felt a shiver race from the base of his skull to his heels.

The remnants of his vomit burned in his vision, accompanied by a chilling premonition.

As if… once he bent his back like this, he’d never stand straight again.

Chu Tiankuo took a deep breath and abruptly unsheathed his sword.

The first strike lopped off the criminal’s head through the bars. The second sliced the mist in two!

A fraction of a second later, the mist reformed, and Chu Tiankuo’s limbs locked up once more.

Like a puppet, his stiff limbs dragged him stumbling toward the next set of cages.

This time, they held a murderer and a pregnant woman.

The gray mist added leisurely, "This time, you can still stand aside."

"You could even threaten him, intimidate him, bargain… Though I should warn you—this murderer hasn’t eaten in three days."

"……"

Wordlessly, Chu Tiankuo drew his sword again.

Countless paths lay before him now.

Yet both he and the mist knew the truth: the only road left for him was a tightrope over an abyss.

……

Not long after, the mist presented Chu Tiankuo with a grandmother and her grandchild.

At the first glimpse of the pair, Chu Tiankuo ground out, "Impossible!"

He wouldn’t do it.

He refused.

Chu Tiankuo knew this was inevitable from the moment he first swung his sword.

First the guilty, then the lesser guilty, then the innocent… and then—

The smartest choice was never to step into the quicksand.

But Chu Tiankuo’s feet were already sinking.

The mist echoed his words with amusement. "Impossible?"

Inside the cage, the child was barely out of infancy, still babbling incoherently.

Tiny hands, tiny feet, wide black eyes gazing at Chu Tiankuo with innocent trust.

The old woman knelt on the cage floor.

Her nails had snapped against the rough wood, leaving smears of blood on the grimy bars.

"Please… let my grandson live."

Tears carved paths through the deep wrinkles of her aged face.

"If you don’t kill one of us, neither will survive—I’d gladly dash my own brains out to spare you the trouble. But it won’t work! It won’t!"

"No," the mist interjected. "Only deaths by his hand count."

The old woman slammed her forehead against the wooden post.

Once. Twice. Again.

It wasn’t pleading anymore—it was suicide in all but name.

But her aged body was too weak; the blood only masked the nail marks from moments before.

"Please… please…"

The hollow thuds of her skull striking wood reverberated like rotten timber beaten against a block.

"It won’t count as your sin—I’m already halfway dead…" she slurred. "Just one strike… just one…"

Each impact landed like a weight of cast iron, crushing Chu Tiankuo’s throat shut.

He turned to the mist. "...You’ll let the child live."

The mist grinned grotesquely.

"I’d gladly promise, but would you trust the lies of a demon?"

Chu Tiankuo spoke through clenched teeth. "...You’ll let him live. To ensure I never escape this torment."

If this child were to die, it would mean this was never a choice to begin with. It wasn’t that Chu Tiankuo had chosen someone’s life or death—rather, the demon had wielded him like a blade.

"Hahahaha, exactly. To ensure you never find peace, I’ll let him live."

Having gotten his answer, Chu Tiankuo finally drew his sword.

When the scalding blood splattered before his eyes, he didn’t flinch.

The thin line of blood trailed down from the corner of his eye like a belated accusation. It slid soundlessly across his youthful face, staining him with a streak of monstrous guilt.

The child wailed; the old man collapsed peacefully.

The gray mist didn’t bother to control him, yet Chu Tiankuo’s hand convulsed and loosened its grip.

The dragon-patterned sword clattered to the ground, bouncing a few times before lying still, coated in dust.

A child’s voice, always higher-pitched than an adult’s, pierced the ears more easily. Amid the toddler’s heartrending cries, Chu Tiankuo couldn’t bear it and turned his head away.

What he saw were crimson camellias blooming wildly across the mountains, sprawling like a handful of still-fresh heart’s blood.

……

At first, the cage held only one person. Then it became ten.

Through the wooden bars, people hurled accusations at each other, desperate to prove their own innocence, as if that alone could justify why the other side deserved death more.

These so-called "crimes" were nothing more than petty grievances—stealing a chicken, swiping a dog, claiming an extra furrow of land, or pocketing a ladle and bucket on the way out…

In the bustling life of a small town, these were the kind of trivialities that might make a young wife roll her eyes. But none of them warranted death.

Yet the pressure of mortality loomed overhead like a tornado, forcing people to abandon all dignity and morality.

Neighbors who once lived in harmony now turned on each other with venom.

A loving couple hurled insults through the bars, their faces streaked with tears.

Then the gray shadow removed the partition between the cages, and the two groups truly went at each other—fists, feet, teeth, like beasts tearing at each other’s ears.

By the time both sides were battered and exhausted, the gray mist announced that it didn’t matter if Chu Tiankuo refused to act.

"I don’t eat humans, nor do I crave slaughter. I don’t need twenty lives at once."

"Ten will suffice. It doesn’t matter who kills them—just ten."

The mist declared that whoever it shrouded next, the rest must execute. Once ten had died, the survivors could go on living.

Chu Tiankuo tried to intervene, but the mist seized his limbs and flung him aside.

"If you won’t draw your sword, you’ll remain a spectator."

After several rounds, the pattern became clear: those who hesitated would inevitably be the next ones shrouded.

So they steeled themselves, and with each round, guilt faded into numbness.

Pressed into the role of executioners, they beat the elderly to death, dashed children against the ground, crushed neighbors under stones, strangled their own brothers… Victim and perpetrator became indistinguishable.

Ten had already died, yet no one kept count.

When the mist settled over an eleventh, the remaining nine rushed at him like a pack of wolves…

"Enough!" Chu Tiankuo’s voice, long hoarse from shouting, tore through the air. "It’s enough!"

Only then did the mist withdraw, satisfied, lifting from the half-dead wretch’s skull.

It circled above Chu Tiankuo’s head.

Even without looking up, he could sense the demon’s smug grin.

Soft, eerie, and cold, the mist whispered, "Now ten are dead, and ten more are sinners. Do you think this is a good outcome?"

Chu Tiankuo had no answer.

……

Day after day after day.

Hour after hour after hour.

Cage after cage after cage… and the bloodstained souls trapped inside.

The faces grew familiar, recurring like a nightmare.

"Even now, you still refuse to draw your sword?"

"……"

Chu Tiankuo had tried. He’d masked his despair with rage.

He’d refused to yield, refused to break, even if it meant grinding his teeth to dust.

But it was too hard—harder than despair itself.

If Chu Tiankuo had never been the type to torment himself with guilt, the mist would never have chosen him as its prey.

Now, after a month of struggle, he stood at the brink.

A flock of sheep, driven to the cliff’s edge, had grown fangs and claws, their fleeces matted with violence.

Chu Tiankuo closed his eyes, letting the crimson camellias wash over him.

"End it…" he murmured.

Like a soldier laying down arms, a general raising a white flag, a proud youth brought to his knees: "I’m ready to draw my sword now."

Chu Tiankuo was like prime-grade meat—first simmered, then boiled, stripped of sinew, carved and seasoned.

Finally skewered and roasted, crackling over the flames.

The torment seemed endless.

Exhausted, he asked the mist—or perhaps himself:

"Am I still not desperate enough?"

The mist replied, "You truly aren’t."

What, then, was the limit of despair?

Both the mist and Chu Tiankuo knew.

The moment he raised his sword against the fanged sheep, the moment he struck down the old woman with her bloodied forehead, or even earlier—when he first stepped onto the quicksand.

At the end of the road stood his junior brother and sister.

The mist clung to Chu Tiankuo’s ear like mold, whispering commands only he could hear:

"Choose one of them to kill, and all of this ends."

Song Qingchi and Tao Tao stared in shock at their once-indomitable senior brother, now gaunt and unsteady.

Unlike Chu Tiankuo, the mist had kept them confined but unharmed for over a month. They knew nothing of how half the town’s people had vanished.

And the Chu Tiankuo before them was no longer the senior brother they remembered.

Swallowing the iron taste of blood, he whispered, "At least… I can still die with them."

"You still wish to take your own life?"

As it asked, the mist hovered above him, savoring its near-finished masterpiece.

With a grotesque smile, it added, "Kill one, or both—it makes no difference to me."

"However, if your sword is first turned against yourself, then I shall have no choice but to... select one of your junior siblings to cook instead."

The demon cackled darkly. "They may not be as delectable as you, but they are still fine specimens of talent and virtue."

"..."

Chu Tiankuo raised his head, meeting the stunned gazes of his junior siblings.

In their clear, bright eyes, he saw his own reflection—twisted and unrecognizable.

"Senior Brother?" Song Qingchi called out, his voice trembling with heartache and hesitation.

Tears streamed down his face the moment he spoke. "Brother... how have they tortured you like this?"

Even Tao Tao, the fearless little junior sister who never backed down, now had red-rimmed eyes. "Senior Brother, oh, Senior Brother!"

The gray mist swirled high above them, billowing like a tattered banner. It declared loudly:

"One of you three must die. And your senior brother must choose which of the two to kill."

Song Qingchi scoffed. "What? Do you really think we’d believe such nonsense?"

Tao Tao’s response was even more succinct. "Filthy demon, get lost!"

"We..." Chu Tiankuo’s throat moved dryly.

His body felt unbearably heavy one moment, then frighteningly light the next.

Despair and agony had festered inside him, piling up with nowhere to go. He had hollowed out his bones, his flesh, even his chest and organs—just to make space for these meaningless burdens.

And so, Chu Tiankuo became weightless.

While the demon’s feast grew heavier.

Unconsciously, he murmured, "We... let the three of us die together."

"..."

Song Qingchi and Tao Tao exchanged a glance.

In that instant, they realized—the rules set by this mist-like demon might actually be real.

Though they hadn’t seen their senior brother in a month, their trust in him was unwavering. They responded immediately to his judgment.

"What are you saying, Brother?"

Tao Tao’s bright, startled voice was like a kite string tugging Chu Tiankuo back to his senses.

She said, "If two of us can live, how can we choose to die together? Only the living can seek vengeance. Only the living can tear this wretched demon into eight hundred pieces!"

Tao Tao, Chu Tiankuo’s little junior sister.

She might not be as clever as Yan Luoyue, but she had never once cried for her senior brother when faced with hardship.

With a smile, she patted her chest. "If someone must die, then let it be me."

"No, let it be me!"

Song Qingchi, half a beat slower to react, thrust his hand through the bars and playfully pressed his palm against Tao Tao’s face.

"Brother, don’t listen to Tao Tao. Take care of her instead."

The same wooden cages. The same bickering, with just a hint of shoving.

But this time, the two weren’t fighting to survive—they were fighting to die.

Night and day. Hell and back.

Chu Tiankuo stared blankly at the scene.

Their selflessness didn’t ease his sorrow—it only deepened the desolation in his heart.

"I..." His voice was hoarse. "I..."

"Enough!"

With a healer’s sharp instincts, Tao Tao was the first to notice Chu Tiankuo’s distress.

She clamped a hand over Song Qingchi’s mouth, signaling silence.

After studying her senior brother through the bars for a long moment, her tense voice gradually softened.

"Brother, I know... asking you to choose between us is too cruel."

Tao Tao spoke gently. "I don’t know what you’ve endured before this. But I know that whatever decision you make, you must have your reasons."

She smoothed her skirt. The girl who loved fun and mischief now knelt properly against the wooden post, posture straight.

From this position, she looked up at Chu Tiankuo’s rigid form.

Her face was as radiant as newly bloomed peach blossoms, but her clear eyes were like still water—calming and steady.

"It’s alright, Senior Brother," Tao Tao said firmly. "No matter what choice you make in the end, I will never blame you."