Li Tuosen gripped the black feather in his hand like he was holding a burning block of ice. The feather trembled slightly, a foreboding omen, while the warm blood had already started to flow like a winding stream, sliding slowly down the rough edges of his fingers, dripping onto the cold ground, blooming into strange blood-red flowers. Night Ling stood behind him like a frightened little bird, her once pale face now as white as a sheet of paper that had lost all color. Her eyes, once bright like obsidian, now flickered with a fear that seemed to plunge into an abyss, mixed with a fierce, burning resolve—a complex, heartbreaking emotion.
Before them stood a giant door, an otherworldly gate, large and twisted, woven from countless struggling souls, as if crafted from thousands of black feathers. It radiated a disturbing, eerie aura. From behind the closed door came a deep, chilling chant, a voice that didn’t belong to any human. It was ancient, sinister, like a whisper rising from the depths of hell, repeatedly reciting some incomprehensible, ancient incantation.
"…Li Tuosen, do we really have to go in?" Night Ling asked weakly, her voice hoarse, almost drowned out by the low humming of the chant behind the door, like a frightened pilgrim about to enter forbidden land.
"We… have no way out," Li Tuosen responded, his voice steady, like a warrior making a decision. He turned slowly, facing Night Ling, whose form seemed to flicker like a candle in the wind. His tone was resolute and unquestionable. "Chu Yao is still in there, and so are… our buried memories. We can’t run away anymore."
Just as the door, like a gateway to the abyss, began to open, a cold, tidal wave of frigid air surged towards them, fierce and powerful, like a beast breaking free of its chains, bringing an unnerving chill that made their bones tremble.
What they saw before them was a city, an unimaginable one.
But it wasn’t a city of any human design. It was a floating, distorted illusion in the void. The entire city seemed suspended in midair, its buildings made of twisted black feathers, like a floating weed with no foundation. Each feather trembled slightly, as if countless ghosts were weeping in the air. Fragments of souls, torn and cruelly fragmented, drifted like silent snowflakes, slowly descending, exuding a heartbreaking, sorrowful atmosphere.
They moved like two lost travelers in a ghostly realm, stepping carefully into this strange city, which felt like the city of death itself. Suddenly, a feathered creature—like a malevolent spirit crawling from the shadows—pounced from the darkness beside them. Its hollow eye sockets glowed with an eerie white light, and its cracked mouth was smeared with dark red liquid and disgusting black feather fragments.
"Liar… has come…"
As if summoned by an invisible signal, one after another, twisted feathered creatures appeared from the dark corners of the city, their movements stiff and unnatural, like puppets controlled by unseen strings. Their cracked lips murmured the lies they once told in life—some whispered as repentant sinners, muttering they had never truly loved anyone; others, like hypocritical saints, tried to justify themselves as good, loving parents; some, even like denying murderers, softly snarled that they had never killed anyone.
"Li Tuosen!" Night Ling screamed, her voice full of terror, as a grotesque feathered creature, like a starving tiger, lunged towards her fragile body.
Li Tuosen acted without hesitation, like a lion protecting its cub. He gripped the black feathered blade tightly and swung it fiercely. A dark beam of light, sharp as a blade, tore through the stagnant air with a heart-stopping shriek.
The feathered creature shrieked like it was burning in hellfire, its twisted body shattering into countless tiny black feathers, dissipating silently in the cold air like dust scattered by a violent wind.
But in the chilling breeze that whispered like the voice of death, a voice echoed from the abyss, a low whisper like a lingering shadow.
"You too… have lied…"
Li Tuosen froze, as if struck by invisible lightning. His heart, frozen like ice, suddenly felt a sharp pain as though pierced by a blade. He slowly looked down, feeling an invisible pull, and gazed at his chest—
The third black feather, like the claw of a demon, had mysteriously sprouted from beneath his torn clothing without him noticing.
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