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"Where exactly is the problem?"

Lu Qiao asked despairingly, her gaze flickering toward the child behind the large pagoda tree. The boy's eyes still burned with an intense stare fixed on Zhang Yiyi, his unease and urgency seeming to grow stronger.

Had they died four times now? Or was it five?

She could no longer remember clearly—she only knew that her life force and spiritual essence were depleting with every cycle. Her entire being felt weaker.

That feeling of knowing something was wrong yet being powerless to stop it, forced to relive the same death over and over again, was enough to drive one mad.

She didn't even know how many more times she could endure before she completely faded away.

For the first time, she began to doubt her grandfather's prophecy—the so-called blessed fate, the destined ascension.

If she truly died here, what "heavenly fortune" could there possibly be? What "destined ascension" would remain?

"That child."

Zhang Yiyi finally spoke, her voice calm.

She could feel it too—her spiritual essence and vitality were slowly being drained.

But after experiencing so many deaths, and eliminating all the other possibilities, the remaining answer was finally taking shape.

During her last death, she had noticed something—a tiny detail, so minuscule that she had almost overlooked it.

If she could prove her theory, then she was very close to breaking free from this cycle of death.

"The child? Does that mean we have to kill him?"

Lu Qiao instinctively began moving toward the boy, her steps quickening.

Her mind had grown numb—this wretched brat had been dragging them into death over and over again.

She was tired of thinking.

If killing the child was the key to breaking the cycle, then it was worth trying.

"Don't mess this up!"

Zhang Yiyi grabbed Lu Qiao, yanking her back and positioning herself in front of her.

Their bodies were weakening with each cycle.

They couldn't afford any unnecessary deaths.

What if the next death was the final one?

Lu Qiao reluctantly suppressed her urge to kill and fell silent.

She could tell that Zhang Yiyi had no patience for explanations.

But at least she wasn't a fool.

She understood that her abilities and intelligence weren't enough to crack this puzzle.

Especially after dying over and over again, her body was already exhibiting serious distress.

Meanwhile, Zhang Yiyi was faring much better—both in strength and wit.

Following her lead was the only logical choice.

At this point, she had placed all her hopes of survival in Zhang Yiyi's hands.

But Zhang Yiyi wasn't thinking about Lu Qiao at all.

Her mind was entirely focused on the child.

He was definitely the key to breaking this loop.

However, simply killing him was unlikely to be the solution.

Once again, they arrived at the clearing.

But this time, Zhang Yiyi did not wait for the child to disappear and reappear.

She suddenly struck the ground with all her strength.

"Again with the smashing?!"

Lu Qiao felt sick at the thought.

Last time Zhang Yiyi did this, they saw corpses piled high, blood flowing like rivers.

The horrifying sight had been unbearable.

Why was she repeating this?

She already knew what would happen—they couldn't change anything.

Why force herself to witness it again?

But Zhang Yiyi ignored her.

Her sharp gaze remained locked on the space before her, waiting, watching, confirming.

With a deafening boom, the scene changed once more.

Just as expected.

The entire village was filled with thousands of corpses, their mangled bodies stacked grotesquely in the clearing.

The horrific massacre unfolded again.

Lu Qiao gagged, trying to suppress her nausea.

"Sister, what's the point of looking at this again? Isn't one time enough?"

She forced herself to endure, knowing that the scene would soon vanish and be replaced by the usual illusion of the bustling Chen clan village.

She had almost convinced herself to bear it.

But then, she froze.

Her words died in her throat.

**The nausea vanished—**replaced by a chill crawling down her spine.

Lu Qiao rubbed her eyes, trembling.

And then she saw it.

"This... This isn't the same..."

She stammered, her body shaking.

"They're... they're not the same people!"

"Auntie isn't here... The Chen clan leader isn't here... None of the villagers who forced us into the mountains are here..."

She whispered hoarsely, her mind struggling to process.

"Who... Who are these people?!"

"These are the real villagers of Chen Clan Village."

Zhang Yiyi's voice was eerily steady.

Her last doubts had finally vanished.

A tiny part of her had clung to hope—

That perhaps those missing villagers were still alive somewhere.

That maybe, just maybe, they hadn't been completely erased.

But now...

Now, she knew the truth.

Those villagers had never escaped.

They had been replaced.

And the previous cultivators who had responded to the distress signal?

They were all dead.

Lu Qiao remained silent.

She wasn't sure if she was shocked, horrified, or just too mentally drained to react.

All she knew was that her mind had gone blank.

Meanwhile, Zhang Yiyi simply stood there, waiting.

She knew the scene would soon reset once more.

But now, she had everything she needed to break the cycle.

A faint scraping sound echoed as if something heavy was being dragged. As expected, the scene reset once more to a spotless clearing.

The expressionless child appeared again, struggling to drag a hoe taller than himself, moving step by step toward the center of the clearing.

Just as the child bit down on his lip and raised the hoe to strike the earth, Zhang Yiyi stepped forward and caught it mid-air.

"You're tired. Rest for a bit."

Her voice was gentle, carrying a hint of sympathy she hadn't even realized herself.

For the first time, the child's actions changed due to Zhang Yiyi's intervention. His numb, hollow gaze flickered with confusion as he looked at her.

"I know what you're trying to do. I can help you. But you need to tell me how."

Zhang Yiyi posed her final guess, and at that moment, she noticed that the three customary strikes of the hoe had passed—yet nothing had changed.

She exhaled in relief.

It seemed she had finally found the right answer.

The key to breaking the cycle of death wasn't killing this child—it was giving him release, allowing him to be truly freed.

Time seemed to freeze.

The scene stopped shifting.

Yet, the child remained silent, his once-confused eyes now devoid of hesitation, replaced by a lofty, condescending gaze—one filled with disdain.

Meanwhile, Lu Qiao felt like a bystander, unable to intervene.

She had no idea what Zhang Yiyi was talking about, but something about her composure and confidence was awe-inspiring.

"She's incredible."

Deciding not to interrupt, Lu Qiao remained on guard, silent but ready, determined not to hold her back.

"I don't know exactly who you are, but I do know you were once a cultivator—one of those deceived and lured into this village, forced into the mountains to fight those monsters."

Zhang Yiyi spoke calmly, unshaken by the child's contempt.

"You must have been strong."

"Otherwise, anyone thrown into that mountain would've been devoured and perished."

"Yet here you are—alive, in a way. Still enacting vengeance even after thousands of years."

"But at the same time, you were trapped. Bound by some power, unable to even die, let alone be reborn or freed."

With every word, the child's expression shifted.

By the time Zhang Yiyi finished, the arrogance and scorn in his gaze had vanished.

What remained was grief—deep, suffocating sorrow and bitter resentment.

This female cultivator had guessed nearly 70% correctly.

And that was enough to convince him—perhaps, she really could set him free.

"My name is Tian Yuan."

After a long silence, the child finally spoke his first words.

"If you can help me leave this place and be reborn, your cycle of death will naturally be broken."

"But if you fail—you will remain trapped here forever, becoming part of this place."

"How can I help you?"

Zhang Yiyi didn't seem surprised by his response.

"You need to tell me what must be done."

The child hesitated.

It had been so long since he had spoken.

Clearing his hoarse throat, he slowly began to recount his past—his last memories as a living being.

"Twelve thousand years ago, I had just reached the Golden Core stage.

During my training, I happened to pass near Chen Clan Village.

The village chief personally came to beg me—pleading for my help in defeating some monster that had supposedly appeared in the mountains.

I was still young and naïve, and I had a compassionate heart.

I knew that the villagers were mere mortals, struggling to survive, so I was moved by their plight.

I didn't even ask for payment.

I followed them willingly.

But I had no idea that this place was a trap.

The village's chief possessed a powerful artifact—a Ba Gua Spirit Mirror, passed down through generations.

This mirror had the sole purpose of suppressing cultivators like us.

And as for the so-called monster?

It had always been there.

It was never some recent threat.

Even after twelve thousand years, the memory still made me shake with fury.

The Ba Gua Spirit Mirror had been damaged, weakening its power.

The monsters in the mountain grew bolder.

Sometimes, they even crossed into the village and attacked the people.

The villagers knew that, as time passed, the mirror would weaken further.

So they found a solution.

They began sacrificing cultivators.

The village couldn't afford powerful experts, so when their own clan's cultivators died, they started luring outsiders.

They lied to them.

They trapped them.

And they forced them into the mountains to die.

"Fight the monsters," they told us.

But we weren't sent there to fight.

We were fed to the monsters.

The villagers already knew how powerful the creatures were.

They knew that any ordinary cultivator wouldn't stand a chance.

"Every time the monster devoured a cultivator or two, the village would enjoy peace for a few months."

"We were nothing more than livestock to them."

"We were nothing but sacrifices to prolong their safety."

I never imagined I would die at the hands of mere mortals.

But that's exactly what happened.

And when I was devoured, my father's gifted treasure activated—

I perished, but so did the monster.

However, fate was cruel.

My soul was trapped—

Absorbed by my own artifact.

My spirit didn't fade.

Instead, I began mutating—becoming part of the very creature that had devoured me.

The villagers were terrified.

The chief panicked.

He threw the Ba Gua Mirror into the abyss, hoping it would erase my existence.

But the mirror failed.

Instead, my soul merged with it.

"And so, I was bound to this place forever."

The barriers that once separated the village from the monsters no longer affected me.

I killed every last one of them.

"Not a single one left."

"Not a single one left!"

"Not a single one left!!"

His laughter echoed, sharp and jarring—

It was not laughter.

It was the sound of a shattered soul.

It was anguish, torment, and despair.

It cut through the air like a blade.

Zhang Yiyi listened.

Her heart felt heavy.

"Enough laughing," she sighed, her voice gentle, almost soothing.

"It's painful to hear."

She met his gaze, steady and unwavering.

"So what happened next?"

"You got your revenge."

"But twelve thousand years later, why are you still here?"

"Why did you kill the current villagers and create this death loop?"

Tian Yuan's smile vanished.

His rage surged again.

"Because after I killed those who betrayed me, the Ba Gua Mirror trapped me once more.

Twelve thousand years.

I have been bound to this damned mirror for twelve thousand years.

I cannot live.

I cannot die.

I am forever chained."

His voice trembled.

"And so, I devised a plan... to escape."