The tide of consciousness receded, leaving behind a boundless void.
Ling Xiya could not feel the existence of her body, nor did she have any concept of up, down, left, or right.
Only a pure, ultimate emptiness enveloped her.
The warmth of the embrace from a moment ago, the familiar scent of Isayat’s neck, the burning sensation from that scorching tear, her own uncontrollable sobs, and that Unforgettable Oath all receded like the tide.
They vanished without a trace, as if they had never happened.
“Master?”
She called out subconsciously, but no sound came out.
There was no vibration of air, no resonance of vocal cords — even the thought of calling out itself seemed pale and weak.
She ‘looked’ around, yet there was no physical movement of ‘looking’.
Before her eyes was neither black nor white, but an absolute blankness that transcended color, light, and shadow.
It was like a canvas stretched infinitely, pure to the extreme, yet with nothing painted upon it.
Time seemed to have lost its meaning here.
There was no sense of its passage, only an eternal ‘now’ — a frozen, hollow ‘now’.
‘What was… all of that just now?’
A blurry fragment began to surface within this blankness, like a drop of ink blooming in water.
It was Isayat’s pale face, her shattered eyes, and that plea filled with despair: “Don’t leave me.”
Her heart — if she still had one — constricted suddenly, sending a sharp, hollow pang through her.
“Master…”
Ling Xiya tried to reach out, wanting to grasp that fragile figure, but she found she could not even manage the motion of raising her hand.
She was merely a fragment of consciousness, floating within this Sea of Void.
Why was it like this?
Just moments ago, they were together in that room with the flickering candlelight.
But now, where had it all gone?
‘Was it a dream? A dream that felt too real? No, it was not a dream!’
Ling Xiya vehemently rejected the thought.
Isayat’s existence, her feelings for her, and those unforgettable experiences could not possibly be illusions!
‘Isayat! Where are you?!’
She screamed in her heart, but her voice could not pierce this blankness.
Panic, like cold vines, began to entwine around her remaining consciousness.
She had never been this afraid.
Even when facing the strongest enemies, even in the most dangerous situations, she had never felt this way — a fear of being completely stripped away, uprooted, and losing all support.
Isayat was her master, her beloved, and the entire meaning of her life.
Without Isayat, who was she?
This question exploded in the depths of her consciousness like a clap of thunder.
Who was she?
‘Ling Xiya… yes, I am Ling Xiya. Isayat… the one who loves me. My name is Ling Xiya.’
Her identity and her existence were all tightly linked to Isayat.
But if Isayat disappeared, if the person who allowed her to become ‘Ling Xiya’ was gone, then who was ‘Ling Xiya’?
This question plunged her into deeper chaos.
She began to struggle to recall the past, trying to grasp the memory fragments that could prove her existence.
However, these memories were like fading old photographs, becoming blurred and indistinct.
Isayat’s face gradually became harder to capture in her ‘mind’, leaving only a vague silhouette and a powerful emotion called ‘love’ and ‘protection’ to sustain her.
‘No! Don’t forget!’
She desperately tried to hold onto those memories; they were the proof of why she was Ling Xiya.
But this blankness seemed to possess a powerful swallowing force, constantly eroding her memories, her cognition, and her self.
She began to wonder if the person who had just held Isayat and made a promise was really her.
Did everything she cherished, the things she was willing to protect with her life, truly exist?
“I am Ling Xiya…”
She murmured to herself, as if trying to convince herself.
“Isayat’s… Ling Xiya.”
Yet, when the entity represented by the name ‘Isayat’ vanished, the definition of this identity also began to teeter.
Within the blankness, there seemed to be no point of reference and no sound.
Ling Xiya felt her consciousness constantly sinking, yet also constantly diffusing, merging into this boundless void.
Her self-perception, her memories, and her emotions were all being stripped away and dissipated bit by bit under the ‘dissolution’ of this blankness.
‘Who am I? Why am I here? Where am I going?’
The questions multiplied, but there was not a single answer.
She remembered Isayat closing her eyes and letting the darkness swallow her consciousness.
Could it be… could something have happened to Isayat? And she herself, for some reason, had been dragged into this bizarre situation?
This speculation made her even more panicked.
If Isayat really… no, she did not dare think further.
‘Isayat… please… answer me…’
Ling Xiya’s consciousness began to tremble.
Despair submerged her like a tide.
She felt like a lost child who could not find the way home or the embrace she could depend on.
Time lost its meaning in this blankness.
Ling Xiya did not know how long she had been floating — whether it was a single moment or eternity.
Her remaining memories grew more and more blurred.
Isayat’s figure flickered in her consciousness like a candle in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment.
She struggled to focus her spirit, trying to grasp the last bit of cognition regarding ‘Ling Xiya’.
She was Ling Xiya, and she loved her master… these were the cornerstones of her existence.
But when the cornerstones themselves began to become illusory, how could her existence be defined?
The blankness began to grow ‘thicker’, or perhaps ‘thinner’.
Ling Xiya felt her consciousness being assimilated by this blankness, becoming fainter and more blurred.
Her ‘thinking’ became increasingly difficult, and her emotions of panic and sadness began to dull.
She seemed to have… forgotten something important.
What was it?
A name… a name that was incredibly important to her… What was it?
She thought hard, but her head was empty, containing only a pure, suffocating blankness.
It seemed… there was someone she needed to protect?
It seemed… there was a promise she needed to keep?
What was that promise?
“Forever… together…”
A faint voice seemed to come from a distant time and space, carrying a hint of familiar warmth and sadness.
Ling Xiya’s consciousness stirred slightly, as if she had caught onto something.
Forever… together…
With whom?
With… whom?
She could not remember.
She could not remember that name, that figure, or that emotion… it had all disappeared.
Only a blankness remained.
A total, pure blankness without any impurities.
‘Who… was Ling Xiya?’
This question, too, lost its meaning.
In the end, even the name ‘Ling Xiya’ was like a pebble thrown into a lake; after creating a faint ripple, it sank completely to the bottom and vanished.
Within this blankness, only a bit of Dust of Consciousness remained, floating aimlessly.
It once had a name, bonds, and an unforgettable love and oath.
But now, it had nothing.
It had lost its direction, its past, and its self.
In this eternal blankness, it would float forever until the last glimmer of consciousness was completely swallowed by this void, returning to true silence.
—
“The dream should end now.”
“Everything was nothing more than Deathbed Illusions.”
(End)