You’er had no recollection of how or why he had awakened.
Upon regaining consciousness, he was overwhelmed by a profound sense of unfamiliarity, both with his own body and the world around him.
You’er struggled to open his eyes, desperate to discern his surroundings, yet all he met was an indescribably searing agony.
Not foolish, You’er swiftly grasped the horrifying truth: his eye sockets were devoid of pupils.
This realization instantly plunged You’er’s mind into a chaotic maelstrom; he yearned to scream, to find someone, anyone, to demand an explanation for what had transpired!
Yet, he discovered that even the slightest movement of his lips was an arduous task, for he could not feel the facial muscles connected to them.
Moreover, his throat refused to produce a sound, and his body remained utterly immobile.
His entire being was consumed by an all-encompassing, relentless torment.
A vivid memory abruptly pierced You’er’s consciousness: the image of his own hands, closing around Duke Fela’s throat, severing his life.
“So this is it, then… Have I been judged, condemned by the Evernight Empire? Is that why my eyes were gouged out, my face disfigured, and I’ve been nailed to die here?”
Having pieced together the grim truth, You’er slowly regained a semblance of calm, mustering every ounce of his remaining strength to force a bitter, upturned curve onto his lips.
“It seems, after all, quite the worthy exchange…”
You’er’s conjecture proved accurate: his eyes had indeed been gouged out, his visage ruined, and ultimately, he had been impaled upon this wooden cross.
By then, he had lost all track of the days; time, for You’er in his current predicament, had become an elusive, meaningless concept.
The prolonged period of unconsciousness had, paradoxically, significantly dulled the intensity of You’er’s suffering.
By now, the agony in his cheeks and eyes had largely abated, yet even the gentlest breeze was enough to plunge him into a torment worse than death itself.
You’er’s head rested against the cross, his hollow eye sockets fixed upon the sky, mirroring the utter helplessness and confusion that consumed his very soul.
Having lost his sight and become so grotesquely disfigured, he knew with chilling certainty that even if he stood before Lilinai, she would never recognize him.
So…
Was this truly the end…?
Was it time to simply cease to be…?
To sink into one more profound sleep, to shed all worries, to forget all pain…
As for Lilinai, he yearned to dwell on her, yet found himself utterly devoid of the courage to do so.
With that, You’er drifted into slumber, but it was not the eternal sleep he had contemplated.
What roused You’er was a sensation of softness, a touch of coolness, akin to vital water flowing into a parched riverbed.
Someone, in an indescribably peculiar manner, had infused his cracked lips with vitality and hope.
You’er awoke from his daze, instinctively wanting to savor the sensation, but it had already vanished.
And so it continued, once, twice, ten times, a hundred times…
That ephemeral warmth, that profound sensation, consistently offered him a sliver of light whenever You’er teetered on the brink of despair.
His wounds slowly began to mend, the relentless pain gradually receded, and You’er no longer felt as though he was merely clinging to life, as he had when first impaled there.
He understood with clarity that someone was aiding him, painstakingly saving him, bit by bit.
Initially, You’er suspected the Evernight Empire sought to prolong his suffering rather than allow him a swift demise.
Yet, a moment’s reflection dispelled this notion; even to inflict the most brutal punishment, the Empire, holding absolute power over his life and death, would scarcely need to expend such elaborate effort.
Furthermore, this mysterious benefactor had, time and again, consistently provided aid, tirelessly saving him.
From a certain point onward, You’er’s curiosity about this individual began to blossom; he longed to know who they were, and what they looked like.
He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it began—perhaps during one of his routine awakenings—but within You’er’s body, an ineffable mystery seemed to stir to life.
By simply closing his eyelids and calming his tumultuous thoughts, he could enter a peculiar, distinct world.
It was a primordial realm, a world where only a single entity existed.
It was an colossal ancient tree, its trunk formed from the blade of a divine sword plunged point-first into the earth, piercing the heavens and vanishing into the clouds.
To call it a divine tree would be no exaggeration.
The hilt of this ‘divine sword’ lay buried beneath the earth, serving as its root system, while above the blade, sword qi, as tangible as reality, coalesced into branch after intricate branch.
A small portion of the ‘divine sword’s’ hilt remained exposed above ground, and even this segment was so vast that You’er had to crane his neck to gaze upon it.
‘The Divine Soul Sword Skill Tree’—
Without any external input, the name of this ‘divine sword’ divine tree simply materialized within You’er’s mind.
It was a divine sword, a sacred tree, and simultaneously, a profound sword technique!
The instant this divine sword-tree manifested, You’er realized a peculiar ‘eye’ had awakened within his consciousness.
This eye granted him a god-like perspective, allowing him to observe his surroundings with absolute, intricate clarity.
Information concerning this enigmatic eye also surfaced organically within You’er’s thoughts.
‘Soul Sight,’ ‘Eye of the Soul,’ ‘Spirit Eye’…
Through this ‘Soul Sight,’ You’er perceived the world outside, and in doing so, witnessed his own desolate, wretched form.
The dim, gray-toned vista seemed to reflect the world’s raw, unadulterated essence…
Then, at a particular moment, propelled by an insatiable curiosity, You’er, utilizing the perspective afforded by his ‘Soul Sight,’ directed his gaze inward, towards the ‘Soul Sight’ itself.
The very next instant, an immeasurable torrent of spiritual information surged forth from the ‘Soul Sight,’ inundating You’er’s mind like a colossal tide.
A sensation of immense expansion, of being crushed, of intense compression…
You’er’s brain felt as though it were on the verge of exploding.
You’er had never anticipated that such a casual, spontaneous attempt would provoke such a violent, overwhelming response.
The sheer volume of information being infused caused an excruciating headache.
Yet, he clenched his jaw with unwavering resolve, biting down on his lips until his mouth filled with foamy blood, as he stoically endured this deluge, akin to an ocean pouring into a narrow creek.
Instinct screamed at You’er that he absolutely had to withstand this infusion, no matter the cost!
He had, against all odds, glimpsed hope: the hope of survival, the hope of vengeance, the hope of reclaiming his sister…
His resolve, his indomitable will, would never permit him to simply surrender now!
You’er’s threshold for endurance had long since been shattered, yet this newly broken limit continued to be overwhelmed by the ceaseless infusion.
Both You’er’s spirit and body were teetering precariously on the precipice, mere moments from complete collapse.
Fortunately, the ‘Soul Sight’ appeared to possess a consciousness of its own, for it closed itself most opportunely, thereby halting the overwhelming infusion.
The ‘Soul Sight’ then emitted a faint, ethereal glow, enveloping You’er’s now revitalized consciousness, and transported him once more to that mysterious realm.
The singular entity within that world—the divine sword-tree—seemed, in that very instant, to awaken!