Guo Baiyu stood motionless before Ping'an's statue, words failing him, choked by an overwhelming grief. If she had truly reclaimed her heart, as Jiutian Xuannü had once hinted, she would be flesh and blood, warm and real, not this cold, unyielding clay. A whirlwind of agonizing questions tore through his mind, each without an answer, each a fresh stab of pain.
Zhao Renshu's laughter shattered the silence, a hollow, broken sound that carried no joy, only profound despair. "Baiyu, we had the perfect plan!" he choked out, pointing a trembling finger at Guo Baiyu, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face as his broken laughter continued to echo. "We thought our contingency plan was flawless, but she had her own contingency plan!" His laughter abruptly faded, replaced by a raw, guttural sob that tore through him. Slowly, agonizingly, he walked towards the statue, his legs heavy with grief.
Guo Baiyu reached out, his hand trembling, and held Ping'an's cold, right hand, embracing her unyielding stone body as if she were still breathing. Zhao Renshu took her left, clutching it tightly, his body wracked with sobs as he too clung to her, refusing to let go.
Guo Baiyu leaned into Ping'an's ear, his voice a choked whisper, thick with unshed tears. "Silly woman," he murmured, his voice cracking, "you promised not to sacrifice yourself for anyone." He pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her cold right cheek, a futile gesture of love.
Fang Yaoting, Lim Peizhi, King Shammek, and Siyuan approached, their faces etched with profound sorrow, standing somberly beside the two grief-stricken hunters and their wife, a silent vigil.
"Ping'an," Fang Yaoting murmured, his voice barely a whisper, laced with disbelief and a deep, aching pain. "How? Why?"
Aishu stepped out from among the centaur soldiers, her steps deliberate, heavy with ancient knowledge, walking towards the clay sculpture. She looked at the two men, clinging desperately to Ping'an, refusing to release their grip.
"Don't be angry with her," Aishu said gently, her voice calm, a stark contrast to their anguish, yet filled with a profound understanding. "She kept her promise to you two; she didn't sacrifice for anyone. She sacrificed herself for herself."
"Do you know about this?!" Zhao Renshu demanded, turning wildly to face Aishu, his eyes blazing with a desperate, raw fury, unable to accept her words.
"This is her destiny," Aishu explained, her gaze unwavering, unflinching beneath his rage. "She could have ignored all of this and lived with the two of you in Peach Blossom Valley with her disciples. She could have also been greedy and protected only the people she loves. But she chose to protect the safety of all the people she loves, a choice born of boundless compassion."
"What will happen to her?" Guo Baiyu asked, his voice raw with pain, barely a whisper, a desperate, fragile hope clinging to his words.
"She used herself as a bargaining chip, borrowing the power of the earth to temporarily transform into Syaoran and destroy the enemy," Aishu revealed, her gaze resting on the now-silent statue, a tragic figure of immense power. "She will stand here, guarding the Demon Gate for eternity. Should demons escape beyond the Horsemen soldiers' ability, she will turn back into Syaoran and exterminate them. After the demons are exterminated, she will return to the clay sculpture and continue to guard the Demon Gate. You two will live your lives and continue your reincarnation in the next life."
"When did you tell her this?" Guo Baiyu's voice was barely a whisper, laced with profound shock and a dawning sense of betrayal.
"Back when we first met," Aishu replied, a flicker of guilt, a fleeting shadow, in her ancient eyes. "She asked me if there was a way to turn into Syaoran without having to call back her heart. I did tell her that if she was the true reincarnation of Syaoran, this might be an option." She looked at the two men, her expression laced with profound remorse, sharing their grief. "To be honest, I also told her it was a gamble. It might not work."
"She gambled," Guo Baiyu said, the words torn from him, ripped from his soul, his voice thick with agony, "because she doesn't want to lose us."
King Shammek turned to Siyuan, his voice clear and resonant, cutting through the heavy air. "Gather all the dead warriors and write down their names. Call all the healers to help heal the wounded." He then turned to the two hunters, his voice softening, filled with genuine sympathy. "Stay as long as you want."
"I'm sorry, Doctor Guozhao," Aishu murmured, her gaze sympathetic, a shared understanding in her eyes. "I know how much you two love her. We can choose our own way of life, but we can never escape our destiny."
Lim Peizhi sighed, a heavy sound that carried the weight of the battlefield. "My condolences," he said, his voice somber. "I have to gather the dead soldiers. I will visit you two later." He placed a comforting hand on Guo Baiyu's right shoulder, then on Zhao Renshu's, a gesture of silent solidarity.
"I will go gather the dead fairies and hunters," Fang Yaoting added, his voice thick with sorrow, tears blurring his own vision. "And when I finish cleaning up, I will bring Dachin to visit."
"Thank you, Yaoting," Guo Baiyu managed, his voice strained, a ghost of gratitude. "We want to stay here alone for a while."
"I understand," Fang Yaoting said sadly, his eyes reflecting their profound pain, and he led the others away, leaving the two grieving men to their private sorrow.
Fang Yaoting, Lim Peizhi, Aishu, King Shammek, and Siyuan took the remaining soldiers to begin the somber, gruesome task of clearing the corpses, the true aftermath of hell.
Guo Baiyu and Zhao Renshu sank slowly to the feet of Ping'an's statue. They sat there for an immeasurable time, the blood on their clothes drying into stiff, dark stains, a permanent mark of their anguish. Both felt their bodies ache with the profound weight of exhaustion and grief, a physical manifestation of their broken hearts.
Zhao Renshu sighed, a long, mournful sound, as if releasing the last vestiges of hope. "If you could choose again," he murmured, leaning his head against Ping'an's cold, sculpted side, his voice a broken whisper, "would you still have walked away with us that day?"
Guo Baiyu offered a faint, fleeting smile, tinged with a deep, profound sadness that reached his eyes. "I still would," he affirmed, a testament to their enduring love. He stood, reaching a hand out to Zhao Renshu, his voice gentle. "Let's go. We're not the only family who lost a loved one today. Aishu said she can't go anywhere. After everything is resolved, we'll find a solution, somehow." His voice held a fragile hope.
Zhao Renshu looked up at Guo Baiyu, his eyes still red-rimmed. He had known for a long time that his own physical strength surpassed Guo Baiyu's, yet mentally, Baiyu always held a quiet dominance over him, a steadfast calm he deeply relied upon. He grasped Guo Baiyu's hand, clinging to it, pulling himself to his feet. He turned his head, his gaze lingering on Ping'an's still, clay face, a tender, melancholic expression washing over him. "Now you stay here and behave," he whispered, a final, loving command.
Thousands of corpses lay stacked, a grim, silent testament to the battle's ferocity. King Shammek ordered the dead to be buried outside Immortal Valley, a mass grave for heroes. Unwounded soldiers and hunters meticulously collected the fallen, wrapping each body neatly from neck to foot, a respectful farewell. The wounded were gently placed on carriages, their groans muffled, to be towed away by the Horsemen soldiers. For the first time in four days, a faint sign of life, a whisper of hope, began to emerge from the war-torn Immortal Valley, as the injured were moved to safety.
King Shammek stood before the shimmering lake, opening both palms. Two spheres of brilliant light-blue energy materialized, pulsating with ethereal power, then drifted gracefully into the water. They expanded, forming two shimmering, transparent underwater walking paths, luminous tunnels beneath the surface.
The Horsemen soldiers led the way, each pulling a wagon laden with wounded soldiers, hunters, and fairies, slowly across the submerged route. Hundreds of wounded, those still able to walk, leaned on each other, moving slowly through the luminous tunnels, their tired faces illuminated by the magical light. The walls of these underwater trails rose hundreds of meters high, encompassing them in a surreal, dreamlike world. The wounded soldiers traversed the path, a mix of excitement and fear swirling within them—an eye-opening, wondrous spectacle for the mortal soldiers, hunters, and fairies, a moment of magic amidst their pain. People streamed out onto the other side of the lake, following the Horsemen soldiers, their journey to safety almost complete.
Waiting on the opposite shore were Lee Dachin and Guo Longtong, their faces etched with anxiety, surrounded by the families of many soldiers from Waterfall City and the surrounding area. When news of the war's end reached them, families had rushed to Horsemen Land, each praying, hoping with desperate hearts that the person emerging from the underwater path would be their beloved. As the heroes walked out, one by one, their families surged forward, embracing and kissing them in tearful, joyous reunions, a stark contrast to the despair on the battlefield. Among the hundreds of wounded, Huang Yueliang and Huang Hongse walked side by side, some riding in carriages, their expressions a mix of relief and exhaustion.
Guo Longtong, his eyes wide with desperate eagerness, leaped from the small rock he was standing on, waving wildly, his voice cracking with excited relief. "Hongse! Hongse!" he exclaimed. He pushed past other soldiers, determined to reach Huang Hongse, his entire being focused on her.
The wounded soldiers, fueled by the same desperate hope, were just as excited, pushing and shoving their way towards their families, their pain momentarily forgotten.
Guo Longtong was pushed too hard and lost his balance, landing flat on the ground with a grunt. A soldier accidentally stepped on his left hand, but he barely noticed. Still disoriented from the chaotic rush, he saw a pair of familiar black boots stop directly in front of him. He looked up, tears streaming down his face like a child, and clung desperately to the boots, a primal need for comfort.
Huang Hongse shook her head, a hint of exasperation in her voice, but her eyes held a profound tenderness. "As a man, even if he bleeds, he won't shed a tear," she stated, a fond exasperation. She exhaled coldly, but her touch was gentle as she helped him up. "You are just the opposite."
"Crying is a beautiful thing!" Guo Longtong protested, wrapping his arms tightly around Huang Hongse's waist, burying his face in her shoulder. "These are tears of happiness!"
Huang Hongse patted Guo Longtong's head gently, a soft, comforting gesture. "Okay, we need to go back to Waterfall City and set up temporary clinics for all the injured heroes," she said, her voice practical, but still tender. She patted his back gently, offering comfort.
Guo Longtong wiped his tears, his sniffles subsiding. "Don't worry," he said, looking up, "Dachin figured something like that would be needed. Mayor Lim prepared it already."
"Hongse," Huang Yueliang said, walking up to them, her voice calm. "You take the wounded back to Waterfall City. I will wait for Peizhi."
Huang Hongse looked at Lee Dachin, a message in her eyes. "Dachin, Yaoting wants you to wait for him in Waterfall City, and he will come to find you."
Lee Dachin smiled at Huang Hongse, a weary but genuine smile. "Thank you. I'd rather wait for Yaoting here with Yueliang." His gaze remained fixed on the magical path, waiting for his lover to emerge.