The Last Embrace

Mo Tingbei detected the powerful aura trailing him like a shadow, yet he felt no surprise.

Gazing at the golden light at the distant horizon, he did not turn his head, his voice imbued with a faint hint of playful mockery as he softly inquired, “What is it? Afraid I’ll fall apart halfway there?”

The figure behind him offered no reply, yet Mo Tingbei did not press the matter.

Though his time was indeed running short, if spent waiting for her, it always felt somewhat abundant.

After a long silence, a touch, warm yet carrying an icy chill that permeated to the bone, gently settled against his spine.

It was like a sliver of warm jade buried deep within ten thousand years of profound ice—a contradiction, yet undeniably real.

A pair of arms, incredibly light yet remarkably firm, wrapped around his waist, their fingertips delicately interlocking before him, wide sleeves falling to cover his hands.

She pressed her cheek fully against the center of his back, as if straining to hear the thrumming heartbeat that had long ceased its powerful rhythm.

Her voice, slightly muffled, reached him through the fabric, its cool tone stripped of all sharpness, leaving only a faint, moist, almost imperceptible hoarseness. “I merely… wish to spend a little more time with you.”

Mo Tingbei’s form paused, a movement so subtle as to be almost imperceptible. He lowered his gaze, his eyes falling upon her hands clasped before him, their fingertips like jade, yet colder than jade, trembling ever so slightly.

He neither broke free nor turned back, simply allowing the complex, surging currents of warmth and icy chill to flow silently within the small space where their bodies met.

He, too, found himself yearning for this fleeting tenderness.

He raised his hand, his palm gently covering her cool hand, only to retract it as if struck by lightning.

‘This body of mine is blessed with little fortune; it can hardly bear the kindness of a beauty.’

“Mhm,” he murmured in response, a sound so faint it was almost a sigh. “Do as you wish.”

His steps never faltered, traversing the clouds as if walking on level ground.

Ten thousand li of mountains and rivers flashed past in the blink of an eye.

An expanse of land, saturated with an ominous aura, abruptly materialized within their sight.

Here, sinister winds howled furiously, and malevolent energy pierced the heavens; deep gouges covered the rock faces, as though torn by countless sharp teeth and claws.

At its farthest reach, a chaotic, hazy, dense fog seemed to gather the most evil and defiled energies of this world; even a single glance was enough to make a Purple Mansion cultivator feel profound discomfort.

“We’ve arrived.”

Mo Tingbei spoke softly.

There was no reluctance, no sorrow, no lingering attachment, only an unbelievable serenity.

The soft, warm body against his back pressed even closer; Jiang Jinyue, at some unknown moment, had fully clung to his back, her slender arms encircling his neck, her warm breath carrying a hint of cold sweetness, whispering intimately against his earlobe. Her voice, gentle as if laced with honey, yet held an unyielding stubbornness:

“Let me handle this. Your remaining time,” she paused, her lips almost brushing his earlobe, “just spend it with me, alright?”

Mo Tingbei could distinctly feel the beating of her heart within her chest, a steady rhythm through the thin fabric, each throb carrying a majestic vitality utterly distinct from his own decaying heart meridian.

“Jinyue,” he called her name.

His voice remained calm, yet it held an undeniable solemnity. “Go back.”

The arms around his neck did not loosen in the slightest; instead, they tightened even further. Her cheek pressed firmly against his warm, throbbing neck, like a stubborn young beast drawing its last warmth, intent on etching this sensation deep into the core of her soul.

After a moment of silence, her cool voice again pierced directly into his ear, shattering that veneer of false calm. “If you kill this thing below, how much time will you have left?”

Mo Tingbei was struck dumb.

He inwardly observed his Purple Mansion. Once a boundless sea of stars, it now held only a flickering lamp, its oil nearly depleted, its flame resolutely emitting its final, most brilliant light.

He meticulously sensed the cruel speed of its diminishment, calculating in his mind, which ultimately culminated in a sigh no one heard.

When he spoke again, his tone was forcibly infused with a long-lost, almost playful lightness, as if he were the same man from many years ago, ruffling her hair and teasing her for not practicing her sword diligently.

“My life, your Senior Disciple Brother’s life, is quite precious, you know. Even if I exert my full power to slay that vile beast, I could still… last another ten days to half a month.”

He tried to make it sound like a jest, a reassurance.

Upon hearing this, the arms around his neck not only failed to loosen but abruptly tightened, constricting him almost to the point of breathlessness.

Jiang Jinyue clutched him with nearly all her might, her icy strands of hair brushing against his cheek, her posture clearly declaring she would not let go.

Mo Tingbei felt a pang of helplessness.

At this moment, the forcibly reclaimed cultivation surged within him, the broken path yet to be completed still supplying him with power; but ultimately, it was the sound of the ‘decline’ drum in the adage “one burst of effort, then decline,” a drumbeat that would never reach the scenery beyond that boundary.

To put it in the simplest terms: he couldn’t defeat Jiang Jinyue.

Unable to defeat her, he naturally couldn’t force her back; he could only rely on words.

Mo Tingbei had always known himself to be poor with words, yet at this moment, he could only rack his brains, steeling himself, attempting to pry open her icy stubbornness.

He sighed very softly. “You have already ascended to Golden Core, resting in harmony with the Dao. Above Golden Core, every action stirs the laws of heaven and earth, becoming an embodiment of the Dao. Your will is no longer solely your own; it concerns the very operation of ten thousand living beings in this realm.

“When the Immortal Alliance came to provoke us in the past, Changming instinctively protected its master and acted on my behalf. But this time, the entity we face… cannot be subdued by a magic treasure. Its malevolent energy erodes the Dao, its resentment pierces the heavens, and Changming has absolutely no room to contend with it. To slay it, it must be you or I who act personally.

“You have only just broken through, your cultivation is unstable, and you have not truly ‘replaced the will of Heaven with your own heart,’ nor have you achieved the ‘acting as one desires without transgressing the rules’ that veteran Golden Core cultivators demonstrate. At this very moment, if you exert your full power, what you will incite will not be the fortune or misfortune of a single sect, faction, city, or region, but the karmic tribulation of all sentient beings. By then, it may not only be mountains and rivers changing color, rivers and seas flowing backward, but even lives being plunged into misery, and heaven and earth overturning… all in an instant.

“Such a price, we cannot afford. This world… cannot afford it either.”

More ruthless words, he ultimately could not bring himself to utter.

Not merely because he was always poor with words, but more so because—

Jiang Jinyue suddenly lifted her face, her icy blue eyes seeming to hold the melting of ten thousand years of snow, or perhaps the shattering of a galaxy. All unspoken struggles, pains, and indignations, at this moment, transformed into a single, resolute action.

She suddenly rose on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his in an unavoidable gesture.

It was not a kiss of lingering affection.

The instant their lips met, Mo Tingbei distinctly felt a shiver that seared his very soul.

Her kiss was awkward yet forceful, as if she intended to pour all the unspoken worries, all the regrets of paths not shared, into this single touch; or perhaps, through this most direct contact, to firmly engrave his last presence, his final breath, deep into the recesses of her memory.

After a long while, she slowly pulled back a fraction, her forehead still resting against his, her breath slightly ragged. A mist swirled in her icy blue eyes, yet they clearly reflected his stunned silhouette.

Without a word, she cast one final look at him, her gaze as profound as an oath. Immediately thereafter, a shimmering stream of light flowed, and her figure transformed into countless ice crystals, dissipating on the spot.

There was no farewell, only a lingering, icy, yet tender ache upon his lips that refused to fade.

Mo Tingbei’s fingertips brushed his lips, and he stood frozen in a daze.

After a long moment, he finally turned.

His toes lightly tapped the ground, shortening distances to mere inches. With his next step, he was suspended before the foul, chaotic darkness.

“Yazi.” Mo Tingbei spoke, his voice not loud, yet it pierced through the howling sinister winds, clearly reaching the deepest part of that chaos. “Come out.”