A breeze stirred, carrying the metallic scent of blood through the air.
The Dao Bone in Bai Zihan's hand shimmered faintly—its glow dimmer now, as if it too had been tainted by the pain that brought it into the open.
No one spoke.
Even the Li and Zhao Clans held their tongues.
Because at this moment… there was nothing left to say.
Except—
Bai Zihan stepped forward.
His legs wobbled.
His chest gaped, blood pouring freely.
But still, he walked.
Toward Bai Xinyue.
Somewhere behind, Bai Tianheng took a step—wanting to stop him. But he didn't. He couldn't.
Because even he understood…
This was something only Bai Zihan could do.
When he reached her, he didn't meet her eyes.
He simply lowered his hand.
The Dao Bone hovered there—between them.
He didn't force it into her hand.
He didn't beg for forgiveness.
He simply handed it over.
The thing that once tore her world apart.
The thing that defined both of their lives.
Returned—not as an apology, but as it should be.
