Fang Yuan collapses onto the River of Flowers, his body crashing into the shallow, glowing waters with a sickening thud. The light around him doesn't just fade—it shatters, as if recoiling in horror from the suffocating weight of his despair. Petals that once floated serenely on the surface crumble and blacken, their gentle luminescence snuffed out like candles in a hurricane.
The hope that had surrounded him—bright, warm, and alive—is ripped away, replaced by an oppressive darkness so thick it feels like a physical force crushing down on him. Every agonizing memory from his nine steps slams into his mind like a battering ram: his wife's lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, his daughters' silent screams frozen in terror before death, the endless parade of horrors he witnessed, the cruelty inflicted upon Gu Xianer, and finally, the soul-crushing moment when he strangled her himself—cold, emotionless, indifferent.
Each memory tears through him like jagged glass, shredding what little remained of his sanity. He is utterly broken, drowning in a bottomless pit of despair so vast it feels like nothing will ever pull him out.
The River of Flowers was supposed to be a place of beauty—a sacred path where hope thrived and dreams took flight. Its water level hovered just above ankle but below knee, shimmering with glowing fish that swam gracefully among luminous flowers drifting lazily across its surface. Tiny bugs carrying specks of light flitted through the air, their presence radiating warmth and encouragement. Every element here—the flowers, the bugs, the fish—all emitted a soft, radiant glow, symbolizing hope for those who walked this path.
This isn't just some pretty display; it serves a purpose. Those who could contain more hope awakens greater natural talents. It is said that these glowing entities help unlock one's latent potential, but only those with inherent talent could truly hold onto the light. Hope alone couldn't create greatness—it requires a foundation of ability.
But now, as Fang Yuan lies collapsed on the ground, everything falls apart. The flowers nearest to him don't just lose their glow—they wither and turn black, curling inward like they're trying to escape his presence. The bugs that carried shimmering lights dim and fall silent, their tiny bodies darkening like embers extinguished by a storm.
Even the river itself begins to transform—the crystalline water around him turns murky and black, as though the very essence of hope has been poisoned by the abyss of his anguish. The once-vibrant ecosystem of light and life retreats, leaving behind a void so profound it feels unnatural. It is as if hope itself has fallen into despair, unable to withstand the crushing weight of Fang Yuan's collapse.
The clan elders watch in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief. They have never seen anything like this before. Never has the River of Flowers reacted so violently to someone's presence. Never has hope turned into darkness. The River of Flowers, a place that has always been a symbol of hope and potential, is now a scene of utter desolation. The elders exchange uneasy glances, their voices hushed as they whisper to one another, "What is happening? How can this be?" Their faces pale, their hands tremble—they are witnessing something unimaginable, something that defies everything they have ever known about the River of Flowers.
The other candidates, however, react differently. They laugh, their voices sharp and mocking. "At least heaven isn't blind!" one shouts, his tone dripping with satisfaction. Another sneers, "Look at him! The great Fang Yuan, brought to his knees!" Their laughter echoes across the river, cruel and unrelenting. They revel in his fall, their eyes gleaming with schadenfreude. To them, Fang Yuan's collapse is proof of divine justice, a cosmic balancing of scales.
Fang Zheng stands frozen, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. He had never anticipated this—never imagined that something like that would happen. He shouts, "What the hell is happening! Fang Yuan should be able to take 27 steps but now only 9 steps and even more he has collapsed. I have noticed that every single step he has taken was heavier and heavier, as if he is feeling immense pressure." Then he looks at Gu Xianer, who is shocked with disbelief and also sorrow is visible in her face. Seeing Gu Xianer, he ponders, "Does that mean Gu Xianer has eaten up all Fang Yuan's luck and talent? That means Gu Xianer would have higher talent. Heh heh heh." Then he gives a satisfied smile in his heart as he sees how despairing Fang Yuan looks. Every failure and despair of Fang Yuan is his revenge, which would give him satisfaction.
But Gu Xianer… Gu Xianer reacts differently. She doesn't care about Fang Yuan's failure or whether he possesses great talent. None of that matters to her. What she cares about is her brother—her beloved brother, who has always been her world. Seeing him crumple to the ground fills her with overwhelming sorrow. Tears stream down her face as she shouts desperately, "Brother! Brother!" Her voice trembles with emotion, raw and unfiltered, cutting through the laughter and jeers of the others. Without hesitation, she runs toward him, splashing through the river.
As she moves, something extraordinary happens. All the light of hope that had fled from Fang Yuan begins to gravitate toward her. The glowing flowers, the radiant fish, the luminous bugs—they all flock to her, surrounding her with their brilliance. It's as if she has become a beacon of hope herself, drawing every fragment of light left in the area into her orbit. The sight is magnificent, almost otherworldly, and the clan elders stare in awe as they witness this phenomenon. How can someone attract so much hope? It's as if she embodies hope itself, untouched by despair.