HPDBC 231. Severing Fate
231. Severing Fate
Jin Shu raised the sword without hesitation, ready to cut the irritating red string from his finger.“Wait!” Wang Yue grabbed his wrist.
“What?”
“I’m worried striking the string could cause backlash to my mother—and in turn, to your soul,” she said quickly. “Remember what I told you earlier. Destroying the string outright could cripple both of you.”
Jin Shu frowned. “Hmm… that’s valid. But what other option is there? Aside from sealing one of my souls.”
“Just wait,” she said. “Let me call my mother. She’ll know more than I do.”
With no further need to fight, her four bodies merged back into one. Then she pulled out an item that made Jin Shu freeze.
“…Is that a cellphone?”
He stared at the sleek black device in her hand. The bright screen displayed a family photo—Wang Yue standing beside a beautiful woman and a young boy, all clearly posed and smiling.
She glanced at him like he’d asked something obvious and didn’t bother answering. Instead, she unlocked the phone and tapped one of only two contacts.
Before Jin Shu could ask anything else, a holographic display projected into the air:
DO NOT DISTURB — CALL IN PROGRESS
He blinked at it.
Wow… that’s advanced.
“I could do that with the nanophone,” Nano commented, noticing his expression.
“…Who would I call?” Jin Shu muttered.
“……”
Nano had no answer.
Jin Shu listened as Wang Yue spoke, the conversation sounding one-sided only because he couldn’t hear the replies.
“Mom, could you descend again?”
“…”
“No, no—I didn’t start it.”
“…”
“…I only hit him because he forgot who I was.”
“…”
“I’m going to spank that little snitch,” Wang Yue muttered, covering the receiver.
Then, louder, “Anyway, we think we found a solution, but we need you to confirm it’s safe.”
“…”
“Yeah. I’ll send you the location. See you soon.”
She ended the call and sent a message containing a GPS location tag.
Jin Shu stared. “My soul space has coordinates?”
“Of course,” Wang Yue replied, giving him a look like he’d asked another foolish question. “Everything has a position in the universe.”
He couldn’t argue with that. It made an uncomfortable amount of sense.
A moment later, a pillar of white light slammed down into his soul space. He felt it force its way in—utterly unstoppable.
Not that he wanted to stop it.
Within the light descended a woman who strongly resembled Wang Yue.
Lan.
…Unless Wang Yue had a sister he didn’t know about.
Lan floated down in a meditative pose, eyes closed. Only when her feet touched the ground did she open them.
Jin Shu’s breath caught.
Her eyes were no longer pure white. Instead, they shimmered with countless colors—every shade imaginable, and many that weren’t. Colors that shouldn’t exist. Colors he couldn’t name, describe, or even properly comprehend.
An irresistible force tugged at his souls the moment he looked into them.
He had to wrench his gaze away, his heart pounding.
Looking any longer would have been a mistake.
Feeling awkward, Jin Shu bowed.
“Greetings, Senior.”
Lan’s lips curved into a soft smile.
“That’s quite a cold way to address your wife, isn’t it, husband?”
His mouth fell open. He blinked.
“Mom!” Wang Yue cried in horror.
Lan covered her mouth and laughed lightly.
“I’m sorry—that was a joke.”
“…” Jin Shu managed a stiff nod. “I see.”
“Though,” Lan continued, tilting her head, “it isn’t entirely incorrect.”
She gestured toward the red string of fate.
“What the red string achieves is essentially a marriage of souls. It’s normally used by Dao Partners who wish to never be separated—even after death.”
No one spoke, so she continued calmly.
“There is a story of a husband and wife who used the red string in this way. The husband later died in battle against his lifelong rival. Rather than despair, the wife followed the pull of her soul… and found his reincarnation.”
She smiled faintly.
“She married him on the spot. He was only a month old.”
Everyone stared at her.
“Oh—don’t worry,” Lan added quickly. “She wasn’t robbing the cradle… exactly. The husband retained his memories, and they only truly married after he reached adulthood.”
The explanation didn’t help.
In truth, Jin Shu and the others weren’t shocked by the morality of the story—they were stunned by how chatty she was being.
And by the faint blush that colored her cheeks whenever her gaze drifted toward Jin Shu.
She sounds like a nervous young woman talking to her crush, Shuang sent mentally.
“I’m not!” Lan snapped immediately.
Jin Shu stiffened. “You can read my thoughts?!”
“Our souls are connected,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Of course I can—while I’m inside your soul space.”
“Then why can’t I read yours?”
“Because my existence operates on a fundamentally higher scale than yours,” she said lightly. “That includes my thoughts.”
He didn’t fully understand—but he immediately resolved to think less.
Wang Yue looked between them, her expression difficult to read.
“Can you two not flirt in front of me?” she said flatly. “Let’s resolve this quickly so we can return to our realm.”
“You and your brother are always in such a hurry,” Lan sighed. “Who could you possibly take after? Certainly not me.”
Jin Shu tilted his head. “Was their father a particularly anxious person?”
“Father?” Wang Yue echoed, genuinely confused.
Lan smiled faintly.
“My children have no father. I am their only parent.”
Jin Shu assumed their father had died long ago—until she continued.
“They were formed from my essence blood and natural treasures of heaven and earth.”
His eyes twitched.
That sounded suspiciously like—
“They are not clones,” Lan said, answering his thoughts again. “I did not divide my soul. They possess their own souls, making them distinct individuals.”
She looked at Wang Yue fondly.
“And my children.”
Jin Shu swallowed. He really needed that red string gone.
“Tell me,” Lan said, turning to Nano, “what solution did you find? I assume it involves the god clone.”
“How did you know he was a clone and not the original?” Wang Yue asked. “I still can’t tell.”
Lan gave her the same look Wang Yue had given Jin Shu earlier—as if wondering whether her child had momentarily gone silly.
“Because I fought the original,” she said simply. “I even left a strand of soul power on him, allowing me to sense what occurred within his realm afterward.”
Her expression dimmed slightly.
“It’s unfortunate he sealed his realm so tightly after his defeat. Otherwise, I might have saved those poor beings from extinction.”
Jin Shu’s jaw slowly dropped.
“Y-you’re one of those invincible true gods?”
She shook her head.
“I’m far from invincible,” Lan replied. “I was simply fortunate enough to be born alongside the inception of a realm.”
How old—
He cut the thought off instantly.
Lan’s gaze sharpened, and Jin Shu felt something like an invisible blade press against his throat. Cold. Absolute.
“T-this is Nano,” Jin Shu said quickly. “He created a modified Metal Element. He believes it can sever the connection between us.”
“Modified Metal Element?” Lan tapped her chin, eyes narrowing slightly. “That is only possible because his original self slew the true god of this realm—the Human Ancestor.”
She nodded once. “Yes. It should work.”
And extended her hand. “The sword.”
Jin Shu hesitated for a fraction of a second, then handed it over. He didn’t feel like refusal was an option.
Lan gripped the hilt with one hand and tapped the blade with her index and middle finger of the other.
Dong—
A deep, sonorous tone rang out. The sound itself became substance—razor-edged waves of vibration that tore through the surrounding forest and carved clean lines through distant mountains.
The Boundless Nature Formation shattered completely.
The world dissolved, returning them to the endless white expanse of Jin Shu’s soul space.
“Good sword,” Lan said, nodding in approval.
The others could only blink.
“You were mistaken about one thing,” she continued, turning her gaze toward Nano. “It will only work if both ends are severed simultaneously.”
Nano’s digital face flickered, then settled into a contemplative expression.
“I see. I did not account for that variable. Your conclusion is correct.”
With a casual wave of her hand, the red string tied around her right little finger became visible. She turned her palm upward.
“Place your hand on mine.”
Jin Shu hesitated, then noticed something odd—his red string had never been tied to the others until now. It had always been on his hand alone. He stepped forward and laid his hand over hers, carefully aligning the two strands atop one another.
The sword lifted from Lan’s grasp on its own, hovering above their joined hands, blade pointed downward.
It dropped.
Jin Shu flinched.
The blade pierced straight through—but there was no pain, no blood. It passed through flesh as though it didn’t exist, slicing only the two red strings.
They fell away cleanly.
Something inside Jin Shu shifted.
He felt as though he had lost something immensely important… and yet, at the same time, an overwhelming sense of relief washed over him.
The contradiction left him unsteady.
“Was that it?” he asked.
Lan nodded and returned the sword to him.
“Our souls are no longer bound,” she said calmly. “But fate is not so easily escaped. It is a higher law—one that originates beyond the myriad realms.”
“What does that mean…?”
Lan smiled, eyes glinting with something ancient and amused.
“You’ll understand in the future.”
He sighed. “I really hate cryptic lines like that.”
“Then allow me to be more direct.”
She leaned closer, her smile widening. “My children will call you father someday.”
She laughed.
In the next instant, she vanished in a flash of white light—just as she had before.
Wang Yue disappeared with her.