The diary recorded the process of Father discovering that the World Tree was sealed within the Demon King’s body.
It recorded his inner struggle and pain, as well as his final decision—to use his own soul to strengthen the seal, in exchange for ten years of peace on the continent.
“Father…”
Luo Ling’s tears fell onto the diary’s page, smudging the ink.
“Why didn’t he tell us?”
“Because he knew that once the truth came out, the Holy Temple of Light and those ambitious people would never let it go.”
Kai’s voice carried a hint of bitterness:
“They needed a ‘Demon King’ as an enemy to unite faith and consolidate power. Your father’s sacrifice was nothing more than an obstacle in their eyes.”
Luo Ling closed the diary and took a deep breath.
He finally understood the meaning of that complex look in Father’s eyes before he died—that was not fear, nor hatred, but a deep helplessness and sorrow.
“Now you understand.”
Kai put the Silver Mask back on.
“You can choose to disappear here, living out your days under a false name. Or you can continue as your commander….”
“I want to continue as my commander. The path of the hero was also the one you chose, so I will keep walking this road….”
Luo Ling sighed softly, the anger in his eyes burning as if it could set the world aflame.
“So that’s how it is…. Yi, your son really is just like you… Only, will he walk your old path too… Sigh.”
Kai gently shook his head and sighed, saying nothing more.
Luo Ling was silent.
He thought of the soldiers who had died in battle, of his father’s sacrifice, of the fatigue and determination in Kai’s eyes.
He lowered his head and looked at the holy sword “Dawn” in his hand.
The inscriptions on the blade seemed to glow faintly, as if responding to his heart.
Luo Ling’s fingers lightly brushed the spine of the holy sword “Dawn,” the cold metal touch bringing a strange warmth.
The ancient inscriptions on the blade emitted a faint, breathing light, each line like a sleeping dragon, waiting for the moment to awaken.
“Fallen soldiers… Father… Eve…….”
He murmured, the vivid faces flashing through his mind one by one.
Some were young recruits, still dreaming of the future; some were battle-hardened veterans, their bodies covered in scars but standing tall.
Father’s death was an eternal pain in Luo Ling’s heart, as well as a responsibility he could not escape.
Yi, this name renowned throughout the continent, stood for honor, loyalty, and a path filled with thorns and blood.
Kai said he was like his father; this was both praise and a heavy reminder.
The old path of Father… Was it a glorious victory or a tragic end?
Luo Ling did not know, but he knew he had no way back.
Kai stood nearby, silently watching this young man.
He had watched Luo Ling grow from an ignorant boy into someone tempered by war and loss, his youthful innocence replaced by steadfast determination, fleeting confusion replaced by deeper resolve.
He was so much like Yi in his youth—the same stubbornness, the same heavy burdens, the same… heartbreaking to witness.
Kai sighed softly.
He knew he could not stop Luo Ling, just as he could not stop Yi back then.
Some roads are destined to be walked by certain people, whether what lies ahead is an abyss or a path of light.
“Kai-uncle.”
Luo Ling suddenly looked up, the anger in his eyes gone, replaced by an almost cold calm.
“Do you think, back then, when Father made his choice, he ever hesitated?”
Kai froze, then gave a bitter smile:
“Who wouldn’t hesitate? Yi… What he carried was the hope of the entire empire. Every choice could mean life or death for thousands. The way he tossed and turned at night, staring at the map until dawn, I still remember.”
“But Luo Ling, even with hesitation, he kept going. Because he knew, there was no one behind him to rely on. He was the final Barrier.”
“The final Barrier…”
Luo Ling tasted the words, tightening his grip on “Dawn.”
The blade’s light seemed to shine even brighter, as if echoing his resolve.
“That’s right. Now, so am I.”
He thought of the soldiers who followed him, the people rebuilding their homes from ruins, those eyes still hoping for dawn in the darkness.
He could not retreat, nor could he flee.
The path of the hero meant he could no longer turn back.