Douluo Jueshi, world modulation mode

"Clang-"

The sound of the Asura Demon Sword hitting the ground was exceptionally clear, but it was far less loud than the thunderous pounding of his heart in his chest. For Ma Hongjun at this moment, nothing could compare to the warm, damp feeling in his arms.

He didn't care.

Regardless of whether it's true or false, regardless of whether it's a mirage, the softness in my arms right now is real, and those tearful words, "I miss you so much," are real.

Ma Hongjun held the person in his arms tightly, his fingers running through her hair, caressing it again and again, as if trying to confirm if this was a dream. Tears blurred his vision, but he smiled, a smile more painful than tears.

It's so good, even if it's fake, he can finally hold her again.

……

Beside her, Ning Rongrong stood quietly, a thin layer of moisture clinging to her long eyelashes, making her smiling eyes slightly red. She gazed at the two embracing, her raised arm paused in mid-air, then fell limply to her sides, her fingertips brushing against the cool air, leaving only a soft, sigh-like sound.

Back in the realm of gods, they watched together as Bai Chenxiang's life slowly slipped away, and as Ma Hongjun knelt there helplessly, like a stone statue that had lost its soul.

Since then, the lively, cheerful chubby boy of the past has never been seen again. The smile on his face seemed to have been ripped away by time, leaving only an unyielding melancholy, and even the light in his eyes dimmed.

They all thought that with time, the wound would eventually heal. But seeing Ma Hongjun crying while holding Bai Chenxiang, whom he knew was a fake, Ning Rongrong realized that time was not a good medicine, but rather a dull knife, grinding away at that old wound, seemingly slowly, but hurting even more deeply.

Lost.

They lost.

……

Ma Hongjun ran his fingers through the soft strands of hair, the warmth he felt at her fingertips was so real it made his heart race. Ten thousand years had passed, and he had almost forgotten what it felt like to embrace someone, forgotten the tickle of her hair brushing against the back of his hand, forgotten the gentle rise and fall of her chest when she nestled against him.

"Is it really you..." Ma Hongjun murmured, tears streaming down his face like a broken string of pearls, his voice choked with sobs, "Xiangxiang, is it really you who has come back?"

The person in his arms didn't answer, only buried their face deeper and tightened their arms, like a wronged little animal. Ma Hongjun, however, felt as if he had received a response from the whole world. A heavy sob welled up in his throat; the longing, guilt, and pain accumulated over millennia all transformed into scalding tears that blurred his vision. He didn't even dare to breathe deeply, afraid that if he took a heavy breath, everything before him would shatter like bubbles.

"You know the truth," Bai Chenxiang murmured softly, but her arms tightened even more, as if she wanted to savor the last bit of warmth in his embrace before she disappeared.

She is fake.

These five words were like icicles, piercing Ma Hongjun's heart, bringing with them a surge of regret spanning ten thousand years. Why hadn't he trained just a little harder back then? Why couldn't he have become stronger to pass the Fire God's test? If he could have brought her with him to the divine realm, she wouldn't have had to experience birth, aging, sickness, and death in the mortal world. They wouldn't have been separated by the divine and mortal realms, and even a final glimpse of her before death, a last embrace, would have become a distant dream.

Ma Hongjun's arm holding the Bai Chenxiang NPC doll suddenly stiffened, his knuckles turning white from the force. The temperature in his arms seemed to suddenly drop to cold, the breath faded, leaving only a bone-chilling emptiness.

Yes, he knew, and he knew how absurd the question he asked was.

But he insisted on deceiving himself.

“I know…” Ma Hongjun’s voice was hoarse as if it had been sanded, and tears fell into her hair, “but I… can’t bear to push you away.”

He lacked the power to bring her into the realm of gods back then, and could only watch helplessly as she aged and reached the end of her life. Now, this false warmth was offered to him, and even if it was stolen, even if he was about to fall into an even deeper abyss, he accepted it. As long as he could feel her presence for a few more moments, even if it was like drinking poison to quench his thirst, he would gladly accept it.

"Lie to me, lie to me," Ma Hongjun murmured, his voice as soft as a dream, filled with a humble plea, "Let me hold you a little longer, just a little while..."

Even though she confessed it herself, even though the figure of the person in his arms had begun to fade, he still couldn't bear to let go. Like a drowning person who knows he's clinging to a piece of ice, he'd rather hold onto it and sink.

The person in his arms seemed to give a soft "hmm," the voice as soft as melting sugar. But Ma Hongjun could clearly feel the arms around him gradually becoming transparent, the warmth in his arms being slowly drained away, like sand slipping through his fingers.

"Don't go!" Ma Hongjun panicked, tightening his embrace as if trying to grasp that transparent piece of flesh again. Tears welled up in his eyes, mingling with his sobs, "Don't go, stay with me a little longer, just a little longer!" Not far away, An Zhen suddenly remarked, "Interesting." Bai Chenxiang's NPC puppet was dissipating. With An Zhen's strength, she shouldn't be unable to maintain even the existence of a puppet. This was after An Zhen had granted the NPC puppet sufficient intelligence and freedom. The NPC puppet Bai Chenxiang, harboring her sincere love for Ma Hongjun, wanted to commit suicide. She didn't want to become An Zhen's tool against Ma Hongjun.

"You fatso." Bai Chenxiang's voice sounded like a sigh, with a hint of gentle indistinctness. "Don't blame yourself."

Ma Hongjun's body trembled violently, as if an invisible hand had gripped his heart tightly. Even her phantom was comforting him, but this comfort hurt him more than any reproach, more than a thousand arrows piercing his heart. Back then, he could only watch helplessly as she aged in the divine realm, unable even to go to her side, to hug her, to hold her hand. This sense of guilt and regret was etched into his very bones; how could he not blame her?

"Idiot." Bai Chenxiang's voice began to weaken, like a candle flame flickering in the wind, sometimes bright, sometimes dim. With a familiar smile, yet also as if hiding a sob, she raised her pretty face, revealing a bright smile that overlapped with the figure in Ma Hongjun's memory. However, the figure in front of her became even more illusory, as if the tragedy of the past was about to be reenacted. "Don't be so silly next time. Others only summoned a fake me, why did you react like this?"

Ma Hongjun stared intently at her face, which had become transparent, tears blurring his vision, but no word came out. He still wanted to tell her, to tell her how much he missed her, how much he missed her, that even if it was fake, he would be willing to drown in this moment of tenderness.

Bai Chenxiang's figure became increasingly ethereal. Her last gaze fell upon An Zhen, and a pleading expression appeared on her face, which was almost blending into the air. "Please, don't hurt Fatty. He has a very kind heart."

Even if it's fake, they're still thinking of him!
"Xiangxiang!" Ma Hongjun finally roared out the words that were stuck in his throat. The last bit of his rationality collapsed completely. The accumulated guilt and regret had overwhelmed him. He wanted to go and grab that ray of light, but he couldn't do it at all, just like he couldn't hold Xiangxiang's hand ten thousand years ago.

"You fatso!" The last shout carried a hint of arrogance from back then, yet was also wrapped in an unyielding love. Bai Chenxiang's figure completely transformed into a sky full of white light and dissipated. Only a word of advice, carrying eternal warmth, remained in Ma Hongjun's ear: "Take good care of yourself!"

As if he had lost his soul, Ma Hongjun collapsed to the ground. His outstretched hand remained suspended in mid-air, his fingertips grasping only a handful of cold wind. Bai Chenxiang's voice still echoed in his ears, but the figure in his arms had long since vanished without a trace.

Ma Hongjun's chest heaved violently, but he couldn't cry out. Only tears fell like broken beads, pattering softly against his now-cold clothes, making a desperate, fragmented sound.

The figure of the fake Bai Chenxiang gradually overlapped with the figure of the girl from ten thousand years ago whose life had come to an end, yet whose eyes still held a trace of longing.

Whether it was ten thousand years ago or today, whether it was real or fake, until the very end, she was still thinking of him.

He didn't even have the ability to save her life.

After ten thousand years of Douluo Continent, all that remained was the phrase "Take care of yourself," and a heart riddled with holes, gnawed by regret.

Ma Hongjun knelt there blankly, no longer caring about anything outside. His world was filled with a hollowed-out silence, but there was an unfillable void called "White Agarwood".

“Sigh~” An Zhen sighed softly, “In this world, only sincere emotions can hurt the most.”

The fictional character, imbued with genuine affection, ultimately resonated with Ma Hongjun's emotions.

The god of greed looked at the kneeling figure and shook his head slightly, letting out a soft sigh.

"Fatty." Ning Rongrong took a step forward, gently taking Ma Hongjun's arm with both hands, as if trying to help him stand up. Her eyes were red and brimming with tears, and she said in a slightly choked voice, "Don't be like this. Xiangxiang also hopes that you can take good care of yourself!"

"Take care of yourself?" Ma Hongjun's voice was hoarse, like a broken bellows.

Without her, how could he take care of himself? For so many years in the realm of gods, he lay in lava, guarding those faded memories, like a breathing dead man. Now even the fake Xiangxiang has disappeared, and even "taking care of himself" has become a promise that can no longer be kept.

Ma Hongjun released his hands, his palms empty, even the last trace of warmth dissipating. The blood-red blade of the Asura Demon Sword on the ground reflected the light. When he looked at it, his eyes held no longing, no regret, not even a ripple of emotion. All those longings, regrets, and the humble hopes he had held when embracing the fake Bai Chenxiang had all sunk to the ground in this moment, forming a desolate, icy sea.

Ma Hongjun slowly stood up, his body stiff as a machine, standing very straight, yet exuding an indescribable emptiness.

Ten thousand years ago, he couldn't hold her hand; ten thousand years later, he couldn't even leave behind a false illusion.

Some losses can never be filled.

In his world, the last glimmer of light went out.

(End of this chapter)