036 State of Selflessness

[POV: Zhen Ai]

Zhen Ai opened her eyes to the whisper of wind brushing against her skin, her naked form pressed gently against the cool, living grass. For a fleeting moment, she clung to the fragile hope that it had all been nothing more than a nightmare, a cruel illusion conjured by fate to torment her restless mind. Her trembling hands moved instinctively to her belly, her spiritual sense diving inward in desperate search of the life she had once nurtured.

There was nothing.

The emptiness answered her.

Her breath hitched as the truth settled like a blade in her chest. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, unrestrained and unending. What once existed, proved that she had loved, that she had been loved? It was all gone. Erased. Taken from her. And now, she was left behind, alone in a world that had already cast her aside once before.

A chorus of cawing broke through her grief.

Zhen Ai slowly lifted her gaze, her vision blurred by tears, and found herself surrounded by crows. Dozens of them stood upon the branches, upon the ground, their dark eyes fixed upon her as they cawed incessantly. Yet there was no hostility in their presence. They circled her like sentinels, like guardians drawn to her sorrow.

Her attention shifted, drawn by something far greater.

On the distant horizon, a colossal tree pierced the heavens, its roots buried deep within the earth while its crown stretched beyond the clouds. It stood as though it connected heaven and earth itself, an existence that defied mortal comprehension. Its presence radiated an ancient authority, a force that silenced the world around it.

And beneath that divine pillar, something writhed.

Zhen Rang.

Her brother’s enormous dragon form thrashed violently upon the ground, his scales scorched and torn as if the heavens themselves had turned against him. Small suns manifested in the air, descending like divine punishment, exploding against his body in bursts of searing light. From below, enormous roots and thorny vines erupted from the earth, binding him, piercing him, and dragging him back each time he struggled to rise.

The sight was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

“YOU DARE—AAARGH! THIS IS INJUSTICE! I AM OF THE SEA DRAGON PALACE! HEAVENS, HAVE YOU GONE MAD?!” Zhen Rang’s voice thundered across the sky, his cries shaking the very firmament as pain and fury twisted together in his wails.

Yet the one responsible for this punishment remained unmoved.

Suspended in the air above the battlefield was a being Zhen Ai had only ever heard of in whispered stories from her mother. A Fairy King. A sovereign of the ancient forests. A ruler not by crown, but by the will of nature itself.

Through her spiritual sense, she recognized him.

Wo Li.

But this was no longer the man she had known.

Twigs formed a crown upon his head, as though the forest itself had crowned him king. Butterfly-like wings shimmered behind him, radiant and ethereal. His skin was pale like carved ivory, and a flowing white mane trailed behind him like moonlight given form. He hovered in the sky, his gaze cold and imperious as he looked down upon the dragon writhing beneath him.

Zhen Rang, who once stood above her, who once judged her, who once destroyed everything she held dear, now struggled like a worm pinned beneath the weight of heaven and earth.

Something inside her snapped.

A manic laugh tore from her lips, sharp and unrestrained as she rose to her feet, her grief twisting into something far more volatile.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it! Punish him! Tear him apart!” she screamed, her voice hoarse yet filled with exhilaration. “Kill him! Make him suffer! Let him feel every bit of pain he gave me! Don’t let him die easily! Break him! Destroy him completely!”

Her laughter echoed wildly, spiraling into madness as the crows around her cawed in unison, their cries rising to match her frenzy.

“HAHAHAHAHA! Yes! That’s what you deserve, Zhen Rang! That’s what you deserve!”

…

..

.

I hovered in silence as the dragon’s breath tore through the sky, a torrent of destructive force aimed directly at me. It passed harmlessly by, missing its mark entirely before crashing into the Spirit of the World Tree behind me.

The impact was immense.

And utterly meaningless.

The tree remained untouched, its existence beyond the reach of such crude power. I did not so much as glance back. My attention remained fixed on the creature below me, writhing, furious, defiant even in the face of inevitable death.

His gaze burned with hatred as it locked onto mine.

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“What business is this of yours?!” the dragon roared, his voice trembling with rage and desperation. “This is a family matter! You have no stake in this! That woman, she must have seduced you! Twisted your mind! You are not thinking clearly!”

I said nothing.

His words carried no weight.

Another ripple of energy surged as he attempted to invade my mind, a desperate mental assault aimed at breaking my focus. It shattered upon contact, dispersing like mist before it could even take form. In this state, such attempts were beneath notice.

He grew more frantic.

Flames erupted, torrents of water surged, illusions flickered into existence, each more desperate than the last. Yet none of it mattered. The roots answered my will. The thorned vines tightened their grasp. The miniature suns I had conjured continued their relentless descent, hammering into him again and again without pause.

It was time.

I raised my hand slightly, my will extending into the earth below.

An Ironwood Spike erupted from beneath his tail, piercing through flesh and scale alike.

“I have no mercy for villains,” I said calmly, my voice carrying across the battlefield. “For spawns of chaos who upset the balance for their sickening greed, their malicious intent, and the evil they disguise as righteousness.”

I gestured again.

Another spike surged upward.

“AAARGH! FOOL! YOU ARE MAKING A GRAVE MISTAKE!” the dragon howled, his body convulsing as the agony intensified.

I did not stop.

Another gesture. Another spike.

Then another.

Each one rose higher than the last, driving its way through his massive form in a slow, deliberate ascent until the spikes reached his head.

“That was for my treehouse,” I said, my tone unchanged. “For the guest house. And for Guo Yimu.”

Two more spikes followed in quick succession, tearing through him as his screams grew increasingly ragged.

“That was for hurting Zhen Ai,” I continued. “And for trying to take her against her will.”

I raised my hand once more.

Another spike.

“This one,” I said, glancing down at him without emotion, “is because I felt like it.”

The dragon’s eyes widened as desperation overtook fury.

“The Sea Dragon Palace will not—”

“I do not care.”

My hand moved again. The final Ironwood Spike erupted upward, driving straight through his skull. The world finally fell silent. Only the rustling of leaves remained.