The improved female villains regained their memories.

No matter how twisted and crazy that feeling was, I enjoyed it.

So, I don't care.

They didn't care about her identity or her illness.

I crave the most intense love, and she happens to possess the most intense love.

We are truly a match made in heaven.

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But in the end... I still regretted it.

My eldest brother is dead, my second brother is dead, my third sister is dead... all those who truly cared for and loved me are dead, one by one.

He was killed by the monster.

That year, in the snowy field, when I questioned her in fear and anger, only to receive a smile in return, I understood...

She and I were not a match made in heaven; our fate was a cursed one.

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I really regret it...

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I should have killed her sooner. If I hadn't been so attached to those feelings, things wouldn't have turned out this way.

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Fusu will still be that wise and virtuous prince.

Li Zhujun will also be that good older brother.

Third Senior Sister can snuggle up in bed without a care in the world, reading her favorite novel.

They are all entitled to their own happiness; they deserve their own happiness.

But all of that is gone.

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All the blame rests on me alone.

It was my infatuation with her love that brought this great calamity upon the world.

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Ye Buxin, if you want to go down this path, then continue on it.

I will follow my path and wait for you at the intersection.

If we meet again, we will no longer be close friends.

You are the [King of Heaven who manipulates all living beings], I am the [Solitary Madman who seeks peace of mind].

We are natural enemies.

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Ye Buxin's fingertips gently touched the corner of her eye, and a tear silently slid down, drawing a faint arc in the darkness.

Her fingers trembled slightly, as if the teardrop carried the weight of a thousand years, pressing down on her so much that she could hardly breathe.

The Netherworld was eerily silent, with only the rumbling of the great formation echoing in the ears, like the low growl of some ancient beast, or the relentless grinding of the gears of time.

Her vision blurred, everything before her seemed shrouded in a thick fog. The figure of that person, once as clear as a brand etched in her heart, was now fading, like an ancient painting eroded by time, its colors faded and its outline blurred. She tried hard to recall, attempting to piece together that person's appearance from the fragments of her memory, but the harder she tried, the more distant the face became, as if being erased bit by bit by some invisible force.

Ye Buxin's hand slowly fell to her sides, the warmth of her tears still lingering on her fingertips. Her heart felt hollow, as if it had been ripped out, leaving only endless emptiness and bewilderment. That person had once been the most important part of her life, the starting point of all her obsessions and ambitions, and the reason she had come to where she was today.

But now, under the merciless influence of fate, even his appearance has gradually faded from her memory.

A chilling wind blew by, lifting the hem of her clothes.

Ye Buxin stood there, like a lonely statue, blending into the desolate world.

The roar of the great formation still echoed in her ears, like a mockery, or a reminder—a reminder that this path was destined to be lonely.

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Shan Kanmou stood beside her, quietly waiting for her to recover.

“A clever strategist,” Ye Buxin uttered.

"I'm here." Shan Kanmou bowed his head, waiting for Ye Buxin's instructions.

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The grave has been erected, and the discord between heaven and earth has been realized.

Once you've embarked on this path, don't turn back, and don't regret it.

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"Now that the demon race is dealt with, the last hidden danger is also gone." Ye Bu thought to himself, "Let the avatars move out according to plan."

Shan Kanmou breathed a sigh of relief; she was really afraid that Ye Buxin would change his mind and miss this great opportunity.

"You made the right choice," Shan Kanmou said excitedly. "Once this plan is implemented, victory will be yours alone."

Ye Buxin nodded slightly.

She looked into the distance and said, "Go do it, for..."

"...My victory."

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Moonlight streamed down the moss-covered stone path, and night mist, carrying the scent of water, drifted over the dilapidated pillars.

Wen Shihan sat curled up in the abandoned octagonal pavilion, half of a black awning boat leaning against the reeds. The copper bell hanging from the bow had long been rusted to a dark green, but it was moving without any wind.

As her fingertips brushed across the water's surface, the yin energy, gathering like swimming fish, condensed into a frosty color between her fingers.

The withered lotus leaves in the pond suddenly trembled, and the faded lotus petals peeled off layer by layer, revealing the white lotus seedpod, from which a chilling air, like silk, seeped out of every hole.

This power, like silk soaked in well water, wrapped around the ankles, chilling to the bone, yet transforming into a warm current in the heart—the yin energy within a ten-mile radius was converging here along the winding stone bridge.

Suddenly, the carved wooden windows of the abandoned stage creaked, and the dusty crimson gauze curtains moved without wind, as if being manipulated by transparent fingers.

The girl's neck hairs stood on end, but her earlobes began to burn—a sign of an overload of yin energy. She bit her tongue to suppress her agitation, and the moment the drop of blood fell onto the bluestone slab, the entire lotus pond shimmered with a ghostly blue phosphorescence.

The crooked oil-paper umbrella on the shore suddenly spun and stood up, the spider web hanging between the umbrella ribs reflecting thousands of silver rays.

Black whirlpools surged from the bottom of the pool, and three old river lanterns floated to the surface, their paper lotus petals unfolding lifelike.

As the yin energy solidified and coiled, she finally revealed her first smile of the night—the yin veins that had slumbered for centuries in this dilapidated garden had finally recognized their master.

"nailed it."

She exhaled a deep breath, stood up, and left the place.

After returning to the capital, she originally planned to visit her brother, but the thought of the little one stopped her.

She absolutely hated that guy. Anyone with a brain would know what Shi Guijia wanted to do by sending her here. If she wasn't afraid of upsetting her brother, Wen Shihan would have torn that little thing apart and thrown it into the river long ago.

Something that makes you want to vomit.

She hadn't collected enough Yin Meridians yet, and was just about to find a place to continue her cultivation when she was interrupted by a voice.

"Xiaohan, let's talk, okay?"

It was Yang Pingsheng.

To be precise, it was his clone.

What If Series: What If We Were Still Best Friends (Yang Pingsheng/Ye Buxin Side Story)

Does it really have to come to this?

If they are still close friends...

If Ye Buxin takes a step back...

If Yang Pingsheng had chosen love...

Perhaps, even if the mountains and rivers are shattered and the world collapses, it will have nothing to do with them.

Like many reclusive sages, they would remain there, awaiting their fate.

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"Before the end of the world, I finally saw your face clearly."

"My dearest friend, my confidant."

"You see, at the moment of destruction, heaven and earth were indeed together."

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The fog outside is quite heavy; it looks like it's going to rain.

Ye Buxin felt uneasy; every day at Fusu's residence, she felt exceptionally anxious.

These past few days she's been having dreams. In her dreams, many things happen, some she did, some Yang Pingsheng did, and the ultimate outcome is a falling out between close friends.

She's a monster, and she's cultivated so many immortal techniques; logically speaking, she shouldn't be dreaming.

But the dream was truly unsettling, so she chose to be honest with Yang Pingsheng and asked him to test Fusu's reaction.

He didn't come back until evening.

That dream seemed to have made her timid. Ye Buxin chuckled self-deprecatingly, when suddenly she heard a familiar voice in her mind.

"Cloth Heart".

Someone pushed the door open and entered.

She had already gotten the answer from the other person's tone, and looked over with a slightly stiff expression.

Yang Pingsheng stood at the doorway, darkness obscuring half of his body.

“Your dream is correct,” Yang Pingsheng said. “Bu Xin, your senior brother does indeed want to kill you.”

So that's how it is. At this moment, Ye Buxin couldn't tell whether it was her future self returning to the present, or whether it was really just a dream.

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