In this dungeon, Ning Su realized that memories were a vital part of a person.
To some extent, memories represented life experiences—they had a profound influence on every aspect of a person.
Players who completely lost their memories would instantly revert to blank, childlike states.
So… what kind of person would someone be if their memories were entirely dark, without a single trace of beauty or purity?
Ning Su stared blankly at Ling Xiao in front of him.
Ling Xiao looked back at him and grinned. "Scared? About to cry?"
"Crying won’t help." His smile turned even more malicious.
Ning Su: "…"
Well, he had considered trying.
Ling Xiao said, "Though I don’t know why my heart is inside your body, now that it’s been delivered to my doorstep, wouldn’t it be a waste of fate’s arrangement if I didn’t take it back?"
Ning Su said pitifully, "How could you treat me like this?"
Ling Xiao’s interest was piqued, and the hand pressed against Ning Su’s chest stilled.
He studied Ning Su with amusement, his smile—devoid of any divine grace on his cold, wicked face—leaning more toward something sinister. If anything, he resembled a malevolent god now. "And how should I treat you?"
Ning Su: "You weren’t like this when you gave me your heart."
His expression was one of utter betrayal, like a fool who’d been deceived by a scoundrel—though, given his usual blank stare, the "heartbreak" wasn’t particularly convincing.
Ling Xiao: "I gave you my heart?"
Ning Su: "You’re this powerful. If you hadn’t handed it over willingly, how could I have possibly snatched it?"
Ling Xiao watched him with a faint, unreadable smirk.
Ning Su: "Really. Haven’t you noticed how happy your heart is inside me? That’s definitely not the result of a forced takeover."
Ling Xiao’s grin widened, sending chills down Ning Su’s spine.
Summoning his courage, Ning Su pressed on: "How can you look at me like that? Aren’t I your precious little heart-container anymore? Your cosmic rose?"
Ling Xiao: "…"
Seeing that this approach might actually be working, Ning Su blinked—survival instincts kicking in. "Didn’t you love holding me the most? You said your heart felt like it had found its home inside me."
Ling Xiao pinched his chin. "How do you prove you’re my little treasure?"
Ning Su: "Feel me properly."
Ling Xiao immediately reached for his heart.
"..." Ning Su: "Not the heart!"
"Feel my blood. I’m the little treasure you raised! Can’t you sense your energy inside me?"
For some reason, after saying this, Ning Su felt Ling Xiao’s expression grow even more terrifying.
Dark currents swirled in his eyes, like undissolved hatred, and he looked at Ning Su as if he were already a dead thing.
The fingers gripping his chin were icy, piercing to the bone. Ning Su had no doubt that with just a little more force, his jaw would shatter.
"I raised you? My energy?" His thin, crimson lips curled slightly. Long hair cascaded down the side of his face, brushing Ning Su’s cheek. Within the shadows cast by those strands, his eyes flickered between light and darkness. "Then shouldn’t you repay me with your life?"
Ning Su stared at him blankly, an inexplicable ache swelling in his chest.
He thought he understood, just a little, why Ling Xiao’s eyes had suddenly filled with such hatred—why he had become so terrifying.
He wanted to say he wasn’t one of those dungeon-born Ghost Masters who fed on Ling Xiao’s energy, nor was he a dungeon that siphoned his power.
He had only… eaten his lingxiao flowers.
But in the end, maybe there wasn’t much difference.
Everyone—including him—had been draining him dry.
Just as Ling Xiao was about to move, his eyes sharpened. A bloodstained hand snapped up to block.
Ning Su’s foot nearly struck his head, but Ling Xiao caught his ankle mid-air and yanked him forward, slamming him down.
Seizing the moment, Ning Su clutched his chest and twisted violently, breaking free with a desperate spin. He staggered back, putting ten meters between them.
"I can give your heart back—but not now." Ning Su pressed his pale lips together. "If I do it now, I might die."
Ling Xiao let out a cold laugh and lunged at him. Just as his fingers were about to close around Ning Su’s throat—
Ning Su threw his arms around him and burrowed into his chest.
Ling Xiao stiffened.
Muffled against him, Ning Su whispered, "Can’t you just… not kill me?"
Ling Xiao’s response was to grip the back of his neck.
As Ning Su spoke, a thick layer of dark energy condensed in his palm.
They struck simultaneously. Just as Ling Xiao tightened his grip around Ning Su’s throat, a surge of violent energy crashed into Ling Xiao’s body.
Staggering, Ling Xiao collapsed onto Ning Su, pinning him beneath him—both of them drained.
Against Ling Xiao, Ning Su held nothing back. He knew that if he didn’t strike decisively, he might die at Ling Xiao’s hands.
So that single palm strike had nearly exhausted all his remaining energy and strength.
A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of Ling Xiao’s lips. His eyes burned with hatred as he glared at Ning Su, but after a few seconds, he suddenly laughed. "Calling me ‘baby’ to my face, then going for the kill behind my back—is this the ‘Cosmic Little Rose’ I’ve heard about?"
Ning Su blinked innocently, his voice laced with grievance. "Well, a little rose does have its thorns."
Ling Xiao: "…"
For now, Ling Xiao couldn’t kill him, giving Ning Su time to observe the space around them.
This was a world with a black curtain for a sky. The dim light had no discernible source, and the boundaries were invisible. Aside from a single black tree, there was nothing.
The tree’s branches twisted chaotically, thin tendrils growing aimlessly in all directions.
Was this Ling Xiao’s memory space?
Could memories develop consciousness—or even condense into a physical realm?
Ning Su turned back to Ling Xiao. "Why do you want the heart? You don’t have a physical form, do you?"
Ling Xiao: "How am I pinning you down right now if I don’t?"
Ning Su: "…"
"Though ‘physical’ isn’t quite the right word. That’s why I need the heart. Fusing with it will make me whole."
Ning Su: "Whole? Then what about the Ling Xiao who’s been with me?"
Ling Xiao smirked dismissively. "That’s just the shell—a hollow vessel with no memories, no past."
Ning Su froze, then frowned. "Don’t talk about him like that. He is you, and you are him. You’re one and the same."
Ling Xiao stared at him for a long moment before asking, "What’s he doing now?"
Ning Su: "I’ll tell you everything—anything you want to know. But first, you need to explain your situation to me."
Ling Xiao looked at him, a faint, unreadable smile playing on his lips.
Ning Su pressed his lips together and said, "My name is Ning Su. I’ve had memories since I was about two or three years old, back when I was in an orphanage."
"In orphanages, healthy, good-looking children usually have families lining up to adopt them. I was taken in by many families, only to be sent back over and over again."
"Because I could always see strange, supernatural things—and I kept telling them about them. And also because I was a freakishly unkillable kid."
"Back then, I didn’t know why either."
"Even being hit by a car wouldn’t kill me. They often took their anger out on me, beating me or kicking me out, never worrying that something might happen to me."
"Since I was two or three, whenever I had no food outside, I ate lingxiao flowers. When I had nowhere to sleep, I slept on beds of those flowers."
"This lasted from toddlerhood all the way until high school. So that’s why I say… you raised me."
