Xiao Chen's Vow

"Wah... Yi-ya..." The little beast wept bitterly, shaking Xiao Chen as he coughed blood, refusing to leave alone no matter what.

"You can't save me... If you don't leave now, you'll die here too..."

"Wah..." The snow-white little beast ignored Xiao Chen's pleas. Its large eyes shimmered with tears as it did everything in its power to protect him. It wrapped Xiao Chen in a cocoon of seven-colored light and, with its frail body carrying his, once again shot toward the sky. It would risk its life to break out—to shatter this sealed space.

"Since you've entered the net, how could we let you leave?" The Tiger Servant sneered, her expression savage. Her ghostly claws tore through the air, and at the same time, the Tiger Attendant slashed forth a beam of divine light. Once again, the little beast was blocked and sent crashing back.

Hitting the ground hard, the little beast looked at Xiao Chen, who was coughing blood, and let out a mournful cry. It refused to give up. Carrying him on its back, it surged upward again.

Once, twice, three times...

Even as powerful as the snow-white little beast was, with limitless potential, it was badly wounded after repeated charges. Against a single demigod, its divine abilities might have sufficed, but against six demigods and the domain they had erected, it was still too weak, too young.

"Yi-ya... Wah..." As if asking why. Keke's face was streaked with tears as she gazed at the people around her. She could not understand why they were so cruel, why they insisted on killing them. With her innocent heart, she could scarcely grasp the complexities of human malice.

The little beast struggled to shield Xiao Chen, refusing to let go even unto death. She wept as she charged toward the old crone in the sky, hoping to knock aside that ruthless hag and tear open an opening.

Six demigods sealed the heavens. Their eyes held no trace of emotion. The four Hai Family experts focused only on containing the space; the killing was left to the Tiger Servant and Tiger Attendant. Only the Tiger Clan of the Central Lands dared to offend the Southern Wastes Dragon Clan. The blood of the White Tiger lineage flowed in the Tigers' veins—legend held that their ancestor was a White Tiger Saint Emperor, marked by heaven's own patterns. In the ancient war, that tiger had weathered three strikes from the Buddha himself and retreated unscathed. Its power was unfathomable.

Shua.

Seven-colored light blazed. The Dragon Clan's great divine art erupted in a radiance that swept toward the Tiger Servant and Tiger Attendant.

Zizi.

The Tiger Servant unleashed a claw-shaped beam of light—a blade as real as a divine weapon, tearing space with a thunderous roar that shook heaven and earth. The Tiger Attendant slashed with a crescent blade that rolled like a thousand chariots charging into battle, causing the very sky to tremble.

The Tiger Clan had already received reports about the little beast, and the family had issued a secret order: if opportunity arose, this snow-white divine beast was never to appear in this world again. It was a kill order—they had to eliminate it. The Tiger Clan rarely issued such commands, and it spoke to how deeply they feared Keke. An elder of the clan had already guessed her origins from the descriptions.

Light flared. The collision was silent, without outward destruction, but at the center, a point blazed like a collapsing sun, forcing many to look away. Then that point seemed to annihilate like a dying star, leaving nothing but an abyss of black emptiness.

This form of combat was the deadliest. One misstep meant utter annihilation. The snow-white beast was sent spinning through the air, a trickle of blood at the corner of its mouth, yet it still used its seven-colored light to protect Xiao Chen, keeping him unharmed. It was powerful, blessed with extraordinary divine arts, but it faced two demigods standing within a domain.

Six demigods had set this domain. To stand within it was to already be invincible. There was no way the snow-white beast could break through their combined power.

They slammed heavily into the ground. Xiao Chen crawled toward her with agonizing slowness, coughed up another mouthful of blood, and, with aching heart, gathered the grievously wounded little beast into his arms. He gazed silently at the six demigods in the sky.

Forcing down the blood that had risen to his throat, Xiao Chen said, with unnatural calm, "Slay my two souls and seven spirits. Leave me one remnant soul, to be sealed forever before the Tiger Clan's tomb. Let the snow-white little beast go."

"I came for it in the first place. How could I let it go?" The Tiger Servant's laugh was cold and sinister.

"If you kill it, the Dragon Clan will not forgive you."

"The Southern Wastes have the Dragon Clan; the Tiger Clan has its own ancestor. Who can say which is stronger?" The Tiger Attendant was unmoved.

In the distance, above the Dugu Clan's ancient castle, a gray-robed old man stood in the void, an iron sword strapped to his back. He watched in silence, then sighed softly to himself. "It should never have appeared in this world. The Dragon Clan's feelings toward it are a tangle of joy, fear, and hate. There are already enough Dragon Kings—no fewer than four beasts with the makings of an Ancestral Dragon. This little one need not have been born. But the Dragons on Dragon Island failed to kill it; it reached the mainland. The old fossils of the Southern Wastes had to make some show of force... but now that the little beast has escaped the Southern Wastes on its own, that old relic is probably looking the other way, letting it live or die as fate wills."

Zi.

A sharp tearing sound. The Tiger Servant, fearing something unforeseen, sent a beam of cold light slashing down from the sky, aimed straight at Xiao Chen and the snow-white beast.

Keke broke free of Xiao Chen's arms and with all her remaining strength hurled herself toward the sky to meet the old crone.

Shua, shua, shua.

Blinding light erupted. Seven-colored radiance swept the sky again and again as the little beast charged frantically, trying to tear open the domain.

But the outcome was foreordained. Keke was still young, with boundless potential, but she could not yet stand alone against six demigods. A string of blood blossoms fell; the little beast crashed heavily to the ground, stirring up a plume of dust.

Xiao Chen crawled laboriously toward her, dragging his wounded body, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He took a five-colored divine feather from his robes and placed it on Keke's body. Then he addressed the people in the sky: "You may ignore the Dragon Clan's authority, but do you also wish to earn the enmity of the Phoenix Clan? I ask for nothing but that you let it go. I can make it swear never to seek revenge. You can erase its memories. Just spare its life."

"What could be more thorough than killing it? Our ancestor fears no old dragon of the Southern Wastes. The Phoenix Clan's life-preserving feather is nothing but a symbolic favor; it does not carry the weight you imagine."

Now, even if he wanted Keke to flee alone, it was impossible. Xiao Chen stood silent, gazing coldly at the sky.

Who could save him and Keke? The Dragon Clan... they seemed utterly heartless. They should have appeared by now. Why hadn't they?

What about the Undying Sect? The hope was too slim. Even though Yan Qingcheng was bound to him by life through the Shattered Demon, Planted God art, why would they risk enmity with several great powers for a single young disciple? A great sect would never make such a decision.

"Yi-ya..." Keke struggled weakly to her feet. With one last effort, she used her seven-colored radiance to envelop Xiao Chen and once again carried him into the sky.

Thump.

A flash of divine light. The little beast was struck hard and fell heavily to the ground.

"Let me go..."

"Yi-ya... Wah..." Keke shook her head stubbornly, her eyes full of tears. Even as she coughed blood, she insisted on using her tiny body to bear Xiao Chen upward again.

Once, twice, three times...

Over and over, the old crone beat her down with merciless cruelty.

Keke had no strength left. By now, the little beast—originally white as flawless jade—was drenched in blood, yet still she stubbornly carried Xiao Chen toward the sky again and again, refusing to let go even unto death.

Xiao Chen, who never wept, felt the corners of his eyes grow wet. Xiao Chen, who had never believed in heaven or fate, who believed only in his own power, now bled in his heart and prayed unceasingly—that the snow-white little beast might somehow escape alive.

"Wah..." The little beast sobbed. It had no strength left at all. It lay in a pool of blood beside Xiao Chen, but still it struggled, stubborn and willful, crawling toward him, trying once more to carry him away. But after long effort, all it could do was stretch out a tiny paw; the seven-colored light would not come.

At last, it let out a mournful cry, crawled painfully to Xiao Chen's side, and wept, its tears blurting its eyes.

Xiao Chen gathered it into his arms with the last of his strength. There was nothing left to say. He simply stared coldly at the Tiger Servant and Tiger Attendant in the sky.

"Beg me. Beg for mercy..." The old crone laughed with sinister glee, her madness that of a woman unhinged. A great weight pressed on her heart—the white tiger was dead, and a direct descendant of the Tiger Clan had fallen here. She bore an inescapable share of the blame.

Silent contempt. Xiao Chen had no words.

"Then die, both of you!" The old crone hated Xiao Chen's gaze above all else. She dove from the heavens, her right hand like a blade tearing the void, and slashed fiercely toward him.

"Yi-ya..." Keke opened her large eyes weakly, gazed at Xiao Chen one last time with lingering reluctance, and then, with a resolute burst, summoned her final shred of power and threw herself at the old crone. But she could no longer even manifest the seven-colored light. How could she resist a demigod?

A final, childish cry rang through the sky—and then it stopped. The old crone's hand-blade struck deep into her body. Blood exploded. And then a seven-colored radiance lit the entire sky, flooding every direction with dazzling brilliance. Half of Heavenly Emperor City shone as bright as day.

Even as hard as iron as his heart was, Xiao Chen broke down and wept. The pain was unbearable, ripping through his chest. He had rarely cried since childhood, but in that moment, tears poured like rain. He had never imagined he could be so fragile.

The last look in the little beast's eyes—that lingering gaze before she flung herself at the old crone—was seared into his soul forever.

"Yi-ya... Yi-ya..." That childish voice seemed still to echo in his ears.

The adorable little beast, the greedy little beast, the innocent little beast, the lively little beast, the beast that had shared life and death with him—was dead, just like that.

"Aaaahhh!" Xiao Chen howled in agony, like a wounded animal, raging up at the sky.

In the distance, a desolate flute note drifted on the wind, whimpering like a cuckoo crying blood under a setting sun, like the dirge of the underworld wailing at dusk.

"I don't accept this!" Xiao Chen's heart twisted like a knife twisted. Tears fell like rain as he screamed, lying in the pool of blood, crying like a child.

A fragrant breeze arose. Petals of a thousand hues—crimson, gold, violet—fluttered down from the sky, crystalline as jade. The sky rained flowers.

Then, Buddhist chanting and the music of meditation filled the air; the ethereal voices of ancient sutras wrapped around the entire space. After that came the apocalyptic hymns of the end of days, ancient and desolate, surging forward from the primeval age. Finally, the sound of sacrificial chants cracked through time itself, carrying boundless sorrow.

Seven-colored radiance enveloped heaven and earth. Endless petals drifted down.

All were terrified. The death of the little beast had triggered heavenly anomalies beyond comprehension.

Legend said that only when beings like the Buddha or Laozi—half-ancestral gods—had been slain in their previous lives before enlightenment had such wonders appeared: heaven and earth mourning together, flowers weeping in unison. What origin did this snow-white beast have, for such a thing to happen? How? How?

All were stunned. The Tiger Servant especially felt a bone-deep chill. What kind of little beast had she killed—one that could make heaven and earth mourn, that could bring such anomalies into the world? Her very soul trembled.

"I do not seek deathless longevity; I seek only shared existence. I do not compete for a hundred ages; I fight for one. I do not ask for eternity; I wish only for this life... With my soul as sacrifice—a thousand cycles of suffering, a hundred lifetimes of tribulation—I offer all to trade for the little beast's life."

In that moment, Xiao Chen made his solemn vow. He prayed to the ancestral gods—whether they had fallen or not—and his voice rang clear across heaven and earth, echoing through half of Heavenly Emperor City. Countless hearts were moved.

The old crone trembled in terror and started to lunge at Xiao Chen. From the moment the petals had fallen and the Buddhist, apocalyptic, and sacrificial sounds had arisen, she knew she might have unleashed a cataclysm beyond measure.

The little beast's body had not fallen. It seemed to have vanished.

Seven streaks of radiance swirled in the sky, each coiling like an Ancestral Dragon. Then they shot toward a palm-high sapling. In an instant, light burst into the heavens.

The palm-sized Seven-Colored Sacred Tree blazed with a holiness that leached the color from everything else. Slowly, it descended.

The old crone, frantic with fear, transformed into a streak of black light and charged at it. But the Sacred Tree seemed to hold power as vast as the cosmic sea. Its radiant light swept out, and the old crone was hurled away. The tree settled gently into Xiao Chen's hands, which were covered in blood, its light pulsing softly.

In a daze, he heard once more that childish voice—"Yi-ya, yi-ya"—and his heart broke anew. Tears fell like rain.