Chapter 824: Bai Hang Is Dead!

Perspective shift.

Ren walks on the stone-paved road of Changletian.

The hem of his black swallow-tail windcoat sways lightly by his leg.

His steps are steady, and the surrounding pedestrians unconsciously give way—not because they recognize him, but because the cold, oppressive aura around him triggers their instinct to avoid him before eye contact.

He mutters something under his breath.

Probably only he can hear it.

Dan Heng. Dan Feng. Jing Yuan.

Those three names roll over and over in his mouth, like prayer beads sliding over his fingertips.

He has little interest in the Task itself; a Task is just a Task.

What he cares about is something else.

What he cares about is the thing he hasn't yet repaid.

"Yo, Ying Xing!"

The voice comes from behind.

Ren's steps halt.

His right foot remains on the stone pavement, knee slightly bent, his weight just shifting onto the front of his foot, and he stops mid-stride, like a machine suddenly having its power cut.

Enthusiasm. Vitality.

It pierces through Changletian's noisy streets and lands precisely in his ear.

Carrying a bright voice he knows intimately, a voice sealed for a long time in a corner of his deepest memory.

Like a smile that no one has shown him for a very, very long time.

Ying Xing.

That name.

The name he buried centuries ago.

Ren's mind goes blank.

All the thoughts that were running are abruptly cut off in that instant.

He freezes in place, his right hand unconsciously gripping the sword hilt at his side.

The white bandage wrapped around the back of his hand tightens slightly from the force, its edge revealing the cold-white skin beneath.

No!

Impossible!

How could this be?

Those three words clash repeatedly in his mind, making his temples throb.

His mind renders a verdict in the first instant.

Bai Hang is already dead.

Dead on the battlefield.

Dead where he knows.

Dead.

Impossible to appear here.

Impossible that that voice would call him, call him that name.

No one knows the name Ying Xing.

Except them.

Except those who are already dead, those who have left.

Disguise. Impersonation. Joke.

He slowly turns around.

His movement is as slow as if underwater, each joint pressed by water pressure, each angle so heavy that his bones emit a silent groan.

His gaze lands a few steps away.

A young girl stands on the stone road across the street.

Her white long hair glows with a faint silvery light in the sun, a pair of matching Fox Ears perched on her head, her turquoise eyes curved into two crescents, flashing an overly radiant smile.

A black‑purple patchwork tight undergarment, a short black‑purple cloak, a fluffy soft white fur collar around the neckline, almost identical to the outfit in his memory.

Her hair color has changed.

Everything else is exactly the same.

Hallucination?

Ren's face remains expressionless as he stares at the figure.

But his pupils have contracted to a tiny dot, the crimson iris turning into a dark red halo in the sunlight.

His perception, like countless fine needles, sweeps over the girl; the aura is identical.

It matches Bai Hang from his memory a hundred years ago down to the last detail.

It is not the scent of a disguise.

Familiar aura, familiar smile, all are Bai Hang.

Mask Fool? Flowing Light Memory Court? Extinction Great Lord?

He swallows a mouthful of dry saliva.

His Adam's apple rolls up and down with great difficulty, as if a shard of glass is lodged in his throat, unable to swallow or spit out.

Bai Hang is dead.

A dead person couldn't be standing here.

So this is fake.

No matter how similar the smell, the voice, or the face, this is fake.

Someone stood before him with Bai Hang's face and called him that name in Bai Hang's voice.

Someone touched the only old wound in his body that hasn't been completely Corroded by the demonic shadow.

"Long time no see!"

The girl spoke again.

She raised her hand and waved, the motion casual and natural.

"Ying Xing!"

The blade snapped out.

The sword left its sheath from his waist so fast that no one saw it, not even he.

The blade traced a cold, bright Light Arc in the air; the sharp edge's whistling tear through the air hadn't spread before the tip already turned, aiming at his own left shoulder.

A slash came down!

The sword blade cut into flesh, severed tendons, and struck bone with an extremely dull "Ka" sound.

Bright red blood gushed from the wound, splashing onto the stone pavement, onto the hem of his black coat, and onto his own face.

Intense pain exploded from the shoulder to every nerve ending in his body, a scorching, sharp agony as if his entire left arm were ripped off, also shattering all the chaotic guesses in his mind!

It wasn't a dream......

The pain is real.....

The blood is real.....

The white‑haired Fox Ears girl standing across the street is also real, imaged on his retina, locked within his perception range, existing in the real world.

But Bai Hang is already dead.

His brain, amid the torrent of agony, clung stubbornly to this point, like a Lock whose teeth have been smashed yet remains stuck in place.

Bai Hang is dead!

So the one before him is fake.

Someone is impersonating!

Someone is disguising themselves as Bai Hang!

Using Bai Hang's appearance and voice to touch him.

Touching the only thing of him that still remains.

He pulled the sword out of his shoulder.

Blood surged from the wound, flowing down his arm, dripping from his fingertips onto the stone, the Tick sound strikingly clear on the suddenly hushed street.

The surrounding pedestrians finally reacted.

Screams rose everywhere. Some ran backward, some hid in the tea house beside, some knocked over a street stall, scattering baked cakes and candies across the ground.

Several Cloud Cavalry charged from afar, but after seeing who the blade‑wielder was, they suddenly hesitated and stopped.

The blade didn't look at them.

He only stared at the girl.

The girl's expression changed, from a radiant smile to fear; a clear panic flashed in her azure eyes, her lips slightly opening then closing.

She stepped back half a step.

The movement, demeanor, the behavior when scared—all are Bai Hang!

Rage!

What surged from the wound wasn't just blood.

There is also Rage!

Scalding, ferocious, Rage suppressed for countless years, as if this sword pierced a seal, pouring wildly outward, flooding veins, the heart, every nerve ending once Corroded by the demonic shadow and then bound by bandages.

And Sai Fei Er stood across the street, watching the blade draw the sword at herself, almost unable to keep her mouth from twitching.

Of course she wasn't scared; Sai Fei Er has seen every scene, back when she toyed with fire‑stealing walkers, each stunt slicker than the last, Jing Liu chased her all day and she never panicked.

The one before her, she simply didn't keep her composure.

She only said 'Long time no see,' and the opposite side gave her a chilling blow first.

Blood splattered everywhere; when the sword was drawn, it also dragged out a small piece of shredded flesh.

What kind of trick is this?

First meeting and a self‑cut?

How is she supposed to respond to that?

She rapidly ran through every social etiquette she knew, and none taught her how to handle "when you disguise yourself as an old acquaintance to greet someone and they first strike you".

One could say that each of the Five Fierce Ones of the Clouds are such ruthless characters, so her assessment of Jing Liu probably needs to be raised a notch.

But on the surface, she still has to keep acting.

How would Bai Hang react?

When Bai Hang sees Ying Xing cut herself with a blade, how would she react?

She would be stunned, frightened, confused, then conflicted—wanting to step forward but too scared to move.

Of course she can't step forward.

The real Bai Hang would step forward.

But she can't.

If she stepped forward and the blade struck, she wouldn't have enough room to dodge.

So she amplified the terror just a little.

Sai Fei Er's Fox Ears folded down; the action was done subconsciously, but it fit Bai Hang perfectly.

She stepped back half a step, a clear panic flashing in her azure eyes, her pupils reflecting the blood spreading over the blade on her shoulder, her lips slightly parting then closing, as if she wanted to say many words but couldn't utter a single one.

"Ying… Ying Xing?"