The unconscious Sun Tu was carried out, and the others, seeing that the merman prince was fine but Duan Chenhui’s expression was still grim, slowly left as well.

Soon, the room was left with only He Qing and Duan Chenhui. He Qing sat back down, looking up at Duan Chenhui, whose belief power had been cut in half.

Duan Chenhui glanced down at his now clean hands, then at the bloodstains on the floor. “I really want to know what exactly happened.”

“The truth is, the merman prince had already been dead for some time,” He Qing told him honestly.

Duan Chenhui was momentarily stunned by this, then rubbed his forehead as if deep in thought. “And what about that Zerg egg?”

“You could classify it as a new species.” He Qing stood up and conjured a white robe on himself in front of Duan Chenhui. “I suppose I’m free to leave now? If you still have questions, you can ask the mentor.”

Duan Chenhui looked at his attire, feeling that something about He Qing was different—like he was back to how he was when they first met. After a moment of silence, Duan Chenhui finally said, “Fine, you may leave.”

“Thank you, General.” He Qing pressed his palms together in a gesture of respect and then turned to walk out of the room.

It wasn’t until the door closed behind him that Duan Chenhui realized He Qing had truly left. A sudden tightness gripped his chest, and he bent over, coughing violently as if he were about to hack up his internal organs.

The butler, hearing the noise, rushed in. “General, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Duan Chenhui covered his mouth, suppressing the metallic taste of blood in his throat, his gaze growing darker as he glanced at the floor once more. “Clean this up. I have other matters to attend to.”

“…Yes, sir,” the butler sighed softly, noting that He Qing had already bid his goodbye.

He Qing left the general’s residence and stealthily made his way to the room where Sun Tu was recovering.

After some treatment, Sun Tu’s wound had healed. He was awoken by the sound of He Qing knocking on a wooden fish, an instrument used in Buddhist practices. Annoyed, Sun Tu groaned, “Can you stop that? I’m a patient, you know.”

“If you’re awake, you should get up and make a public statement,” He Qing continued knocking on the wooden fish.

Unable to stand it anymore, Sun Tu got up. “You really are suited for cultivating the path of emotionlessness.”

“Thank you,” He Qing nodded.

Sun Tu looked down at himself, found a black outfit, and put it on. “Alright, what do you want me to announce?” He Qing was obviously here to monitor him, and Sun Tu was feeling extremely frustrated.

He Qing handed him a sheet of paper. “Say what’s written on here.”

Sun Tu glanced over it. It was similar to his previous statement, but with a bit more dramatic flair and a note of gratitude toward Duan Chenhui. He followed He Qing’s instructions and posted it on his StarNet profile, along with a handsome photo.

He Qing took a look, and as public opinion began to shift online, he nodded. “That’ll do.”

“What a hassle,” Sun Tu muttered, lying back down. “I really don’t want to be this prince. How are we supposed to get back to the cultivation world?”

“I don’t know either.” He Qing put away the wooden fish. “I’m going out for a bit.”

“Where are you going?” Sun Tu turned his head to look, but He Qing didn’t answer, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“…Damn it,” Sun Tu grumbled, rubbing his head before going back to sleep. He spent the next few days indulging in a life of leisure, being served hand and foot, until he finally started to feel restless. He got up and went to look for He Qing.

Driving the merman prince’s hover car, Sun Tu arrived at the mouth of a volcano. Looking up, he saw seven-colored clouds swirling in the sky, unsure what He Qing was up to this time.

Standing at the edge of the volcano, Sun Tu shouted, “Master He, have you emerged from your retreat? The fish in the pond are starving!”

After calling out, Sun Tu found a rock to sit on and waited. Before long, He Qing appeared, walking toward him from a distance, dressed in pure white, looking as if he hadn’t been touched by the world.

Sun Tu thought, “Damn, this guy really knows how to look the part. No wonder even the God of War couldn’t resist him.”

As He Qing approached, Sun Tu circled around him. “Tsk, your cultivation level’s gone up again?” He had only just reached the Foundation Establishment stage after restarting his cultivation.

“Yes, I’ve made it to the mid-stage Nascent Soul.” He Qing asked, “Why are you looking for me?”

Sun Tu grinned. “Oh, nothing much. While you were in seclusion, Duan Chenhui resigned. He packed up and went back to his hometown to retire. The internet’s been in an uproar.” He watched He Qing for any reaction, but He Qing just nodded calmly.

“I see.”

“You’re not going to see him?” Sun Tu suddenly smirked. “Maybe he’s dying soon?” Only then did he see a flicker of emotion on He Qing’s face.

“I was just about to go find him.” He Qing glanced northward.

Sun Tu studied him for a moment, unable to figure out what He Qing was thinking. Maybe he really did have the potential for Buddhist cultivation.

“I’ll wait for you at the other house. Oh, and my storage ring.” Sun Tu held out his hand. “I’ve switched to righteous cultivation now, but I’m short on spirit stones. Can you help?”

He Qing returned the ring to him. “We can go to the place where Black Shark once went. There might be spirit stones there.”

“You’re right. Now that I have my own spaceship, I’ll wait for you to return before we go.” Sun Tu was scheming, knowing that with his current cultivation level, he couldn’t afford to take any risks alone.

“We’ll discuss it when I get back.” He Qing nodded and flew off on his sword.

Sun Tu gazed northward, suddenly remembering something and shouting after him, “By the way, Duan Chenhui resigned! Now you can go retrieve your real body! The person in charge now is one of his political rivals!”

Yang Fan was pushing Duan Chenhui’s wheelchair outside for some fresh air. He glanced over at Qiao Yi, who was walking beside them, casually browsing through StarNet.

“Mr. Qiao, maybe you should head back now?” Yang Fan thought the general wasn’t in the best mood, while Qiao Yi seemed too amused.

Qiao Yi covered his mouth, coughing lightly. “I’m accompanying an old classmate right now.” He pulled up a screen. “Duan, check this out. The internet is blowing up over you.”

Duan Chenhui glanced at it briefly. “I’ve already resigned.”

“Tsk.” Qiao Yi patted him on the shoulder. “How about I take a picture of you in your wheelchair, all wrapped up in a cozy little blanket?”

Duan Chenhui pushed him away. “Aren’t you bored?”

Qiao Yi glanced at StarNet again. “Nope, I’m definitely bored.”

The entire internet was buzzing over Duan Chenhui’s resignation, and the drama surrounding his divorce had nearly brought down the StarNet servers. Every trending topic was about him.

“Who was it that protested in front of the general’s residence?! Show yourselves!”

“These people, seriously. No sense of right or wrong! [Image]”

“I think the general’s been wronged, sob sob.”

“People just wanted to know what happened!! That egg was a Zerg egg, wasn’t it?!”

“What Zerg egg?! It clearly hatched a person!”

“You’re the ones who forced the general to divorce and resign! If the Zerg attacks again, don’t drag him back! He’s already injured!”

“Why are you arguing here?! I bet someone from the general’s political enemies is behind all this!”

“Spy within a spy?!”

Qiao Yi looked at StarNet, then back at Duan Chenhui. “I swear, you did this on purpose.”

Duan Chenhui stared out at the distant icy mountains, answering with a non-sequitur. “I just wanted to rest for a while. You two should go back. I want some peace and quiet here.”

Qiao Yi and Yang Fan exchanged glances, realizing that the divorce had likely hit Duan Chenhui harder than they’d thought. Coupled with his leg injury and the Zerg egg scandal, his resignation seemed like a natural, if extreme, conclusion.

It wasn’t really Duan Chenhui’s usual style…

“We’ll come check on you later.” Qiao Yi had no choice but to leave with Yang Fan.

“Alright,” Duan Chenhui nodded.

Once they were gone, and there was no one around, Duan Chenhui gazed ahead at the snowy mountains and the frozen lake, vast and silent.

He watched for a while, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to rest. A cold wind blew past, but suddenly, it all stopped.

Duan Chenhui’s fingers twitched as he opened his eyes, seeing a figure in white robes walking toward him from the horizon, crossing the frozen lake and taking the only snowy path leading to him.

“He Qing.”

“General, long time no see.” In a blink, He Qing was standing in front of him.

Duan Chenhui raised his head slightly to look at him. “I thought you’d already left?”

He Qing took out a small medicine bottle from his robes. “This is a pill. I promised I would heal your leg.”

Duan Chenhui stared at him for a long time without taking the bottle.

“This is my promise,” He Qing added.

“Thank you.” Duan Chenhui asked, “So, does that mean we no longer have any karma between us?”

He Qing was taken aback, then smiled softly. “Yes.”

“But I’d like to ask, what does it take to fully sever karma?” Duan Chenhui took the bottle, and just as He Qing was about to pull his hand away, Duan Chenhui suddenly grabbed his wrist in reverse.

“You shouldn’t have come back.”