Chapter 1727: Broken Promise

A ruin...

Until this moment, Chen Ling finally understood why the real Red Dust Domain was so desolate... According to what the passerby in the outer city said, it wasn't that there was absolutely no one living here, it was just that those who were still persistent in living here were mostly lonely people who didn't want to leave for various reasons.

The Second Hall and Lu Liangren were such people.

"Ying Fu..."

Chen Ling muttered this name, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter.

When absorbing the Red Star's power, Ying Fu was also at the scene, which meant that like him, he had absorbed the Red Star's power during the process of restarting the world.

However, Ying Fu himself is human. He never absorbed the Red Star’s power of wishes, so he didn’t explode like the others. In other words, he, like the other nine monarchs, has likely become even stronger than before under the blessing of the Red Star’s power.

The Red Star’s enhancement, combined with three hundred years of accumulation and planning, has made Ying Fu’s influence unprecedentedly powerful... The existence of the Chengtian Domain has almost drained all other major domains, unifying humanity into a single whole.

But what he did to the other eight monarchs is truly heinous.

The nine monarchs he personally cultivated were ultimately forced to become tools for Ying Fu’s rule. A ball of fury burned fiercely in Chen Ling’s heart, and a terrifying pressure flowed from him involuntarily. The aura made Lu Liangren’s face turn deathly pale...

He stared at the red-clad actor in front of him in disbelief, as if he had finally recognized that world-destroying aura!

“He...”

“He is...”

The young Lu Liangren’s body couldn’t help but tremble.

Seemingly sensing that his aura was spiraling out of control, Chen Ling took a deep breath, forcibly calming his emotions... his gaze turned toward the Second Hall.

“Where are they?” Chen Ling asked hoarsely.

Chen Ling didn’t specify who “they” were, but the Second Hall understood naturally. The hand in its painting pointed in a direction, and it spoke slowly:

“They... have been waiting for you.”

……

Creak—

The old wooden door opened with a harsh sound, and the moving air kicked up the thick dust on the floor.

The hem of the opera robe brushed against the threshold, and the cinnabar-like earrings swayed gently. A figure stepped silently over the ancient stone steps and finally stopped in an ordinary courtyard.

Web-like embroidery threads covered the courtyard, blocking out all sunlight. Looking around, it was as if one were in a world of embroidery, leaving almost no place to set foot.

These threads of different colors vibrated gently in the air, as if meticulously embroidering something. And in the deepest part of the dense threads, a figure wearing a white practice uniform lay quietly in a web-bed woven from the threads.

Chen Ling stood before the endless embroidery, his eyes fixed on the blurry white-clad figure in the depths, his expression indescribably complex...

I don’t know how much time passed.

Only then did he gently part his dry lips:

“...It’s me.”

In an instant, all the embroidery threads in the courtyard stopped vibrating.

After a brief silence, the dense threads began to part to both sides, clearing a path for Chen Ling to the depths... Only then did Chen Ling clearly see the face of the white-clad figure.

Compared to Chen Ling’s memory, Su Zhiwei’s face looked even more haggard, and even in her deep sleep, her brows remained tightly furrowed, as if she were trapped in an endless nightmare.

Yet, after more than three hundred years, Su Zhiwei remained as youthful as ever.

At the same time,

an elderly figure stepped slowly from behind her.

It was an old man wearing a silk Tang suit, his hair already gray. He leaned on a cane, his gaze fixed on Chen Ling in front of the courtyard, and he stood frozen in place:

“Director... Chen?”

He asked with uncertainty.

More than three hundred years had passed since Chen Ling stayed behind alone in the Gray Realm to save the nine monarchs... He had been gone for so long that everyone thought he was dead.

And now, a Chen Ling identical to the one from the past had appeared before his eyes, alive and well...

At this moment, Yao Qing felt as if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Is it really you... Director Chen?”

Seeing that familiar yet strange figure, Chen Ling felt a sharp, piercing pain in his heart, as if pricked by needles.

He took a deep breath and walked step by step through the embroidery. A breeze swept through the courtyard, blowing the threads and the hem of his opera robe into a flurry... He looked at those aged, bewildered eyes and spoke softly:

“I’m sorry...”

“I’m late.”

The familiar voice, the familiar tone—the moment Chen Ling’s words fell, Yao Qing’s aged body trembled slightly.

It was him...

It really was him!!

Over three hundred years... he had actually returned.

Yao Qing opened his mouth, not knowing what to say for a moment. The bitterness and suffering of these three hundred years could not be expressed in a few words... Two lines of murky tears rolled from the corners of his eyes, tracing through his deep wrinkles and blurring into the dusty ground.

Yao Qing said nothing, nor did he need to. Chen Ling looked at that heartbreaking, aged face, struggled internally for a long time, and finally asked that question...

“Yao Qing...”

“Did you two... eventually get married?”

Yao Qing was stunned.

He hadn’t expected the first question Chen Ling would ask to be this... He shook his head subconsciously.

“No... During that period, humanity’s situation was so dire, how could we...” Yao Qing paused for a moment.

“Actually... I did express my love to Sister Zhiwei... but you had only been missing for a short time, and disasters began to attack the major bases... so Sister Zhiwei said it wasn’t the right time... and then... there was no ‘then’.”

Veins bulged on the back of Chen Ling’s hands, and he clenched his fists uncontrollably.

Chen Ling had thought that with his intervention, Su Zhiwei and Yao Qing could have a happy ending; he had promised Su Zhiwei he would bring them together... But at the most critical moment, he had disappeared. Everyone was worried about him, and later, the disasters came rolling in.

Su Zhiwei and Yao Qing ultimately sealed away their love for each other, dedicating their entire lives to the future of humanity...

They didn’t marry, and they had no children...

The name Chen Ling had racked his brain to come up with for their child was nothing more than his own wishful thinking.

Yao Zhiyue, Yao Zhiyue...

To think that in the end, it was Chen Ling himself who broke the promise.

Chen Ling’s body trembled slightly, and a look of unprecedented guilt and pain appeared in his eyes. Seeing this, Yao Qing’s eyes filled with confusion.

He had only failed to marry Su Zhiwei... why would Director Chen be in such pain?

“Director Chen...”

“What’s wrong?”

Yao Qing asked tentatively.

Chen Ling didn’t answer. He just stood there silently, like a statue standing in the wind. The wind blew his earrings and robe into a mess, and a few crystalline drops drifted away with the breeze.

I don’t know how long it took before he looked at the aged Yao Qing and the sleeping Su Zhiwei with reddened eyes and spoke hoarsely:

“...I’m sorry.”