65: False paradise! She said: You are not her!

An'an “opened” her eyes.

There was no dark red scorched earth.

There was no suffocating malice.

Nor were there icy chains piercing her soul.

What met her gaze was a boundless grassland, stretching to the horizon where it met the sky.

Every inch of the land held up pure, flawless white flowers.

They were small and dense, their petals like freshly fallen snow, gently swaying in the breeze, forming a shimmering white ocean.

The sky was a constant, clear, bright azure, like a warm gem polished for billions of years, eternally enveloping this peaceful land.

The sunlight spilled down warmly, not scorching, not anxious, bringing just the right amount of warmth, delicately enveloping her body.

A refreshing sweet scent wafted in the air, like the fragrance of a million flowers blooming together.

The breeze swept through, and the sea of flowers undulated like white waves.

“Where… is this?”

An'an sat up, a little bewildered.

She looked down at her small hands.

Clean, warm, full of strength.

All the pain, those heart-wrenching burns, that bone-chilling cold, that endless, almost torturous self-torment and sense of destruction… it had all vanished.

It was as if that long, endless torture was just a hazy, terrifying nightmare.

And now, the dream was over.

“An'an…”

A voice, so gentle it seemed capable of melting the entire world, came from behind her.

An'an sharply turned her head.

In that pure white sea of flowers, she saw the figure that existed only in the deepest, most longed-for part of her soul.

White clothes purer than snow, black hair like a waterfall.

A compassionate yet gentle smile on her face.

It was Mama.

It was Su Ke Ke.

“Mama!”

An'an let out a joyful cry, tinged with tears.

She rushed over recklessly, burying herself in that warm embrace.

This embrace was exactly as she had imagined: soft, warm, carrying the scent of sunshine and white flowers.

Su Ke Ke gently stroked her hair, holding her tightly.

“My good child…” Su Ke Ke’s voice, full of approval and affection, sounded in her ear.

“See how wonderful this is? No wrath, no hatred, none of those ugly things… only happiness. You are so… clean now.”

An'an nodded vigorously, tears of happiness welling in her eyes.

She buried her small face in her Mama’s embrace, greedily breathing in the scent of “home.”

Yes, this was truly wonderful.

As long as it was like this, Mama would always hold her.

They played in this sea of flowers.

Su Ke Ke wove flower crowns for her and took her to chase butterflies.

The butterflies here had wings that shimmered with colorful halos.

The sunlight here was never harsh.

The wind here was never cold.

Everything here was as perfect as a painting.

However, just as An'an was held in Su Ke Ke’s arms, lying on the grass together watching the clouds, a series of pained, distorted faces flashed through her mind without warning.

It was Brother Ye Qiong, who had shielded her from malice with his body.

It was Sister Ling Xi, who had held her small hand with tears in her eyes.

It was Brother Gu Yanci, whose eyes were filled with wisdom and… self-reproach.

A wisp of emotion, not belonging to “pure happiness,” an emotion named “worry,” quietly rose in her heart.

“What… happened to them?”

The moment this thought arose, *Zzzzz!*

The entire world, like an old television, suddenly flickered!

The azure of the sky faded for a tenth of a second, turning into a desolate, leaden gray.

Su Ke Ke’s perfect smile froze rigidly, her eyes becoming hollow.

In the air, the metallic scraping of chains being dragged echoed, carrying a bone-chilling cold.

Extreme terror instantly swept through An'an’s heart!

She was afraid!

She was afraid this dream would shatter!

She was afraid Mama would disappear again!

She couldn’t think about those things!

Mama had said she was “clean”!

“Mama!”

An'an’s instinct to seek love overwhelmed everything.

She immediately forced herself to extinguish that trace of “distraction.”

She squeezed out a smile, brighter than the sun and utterly innocent, on her face.

She stretched out her small hand, pointing to a white cloud in the sky that looked like a little bunny, and joyfully shouted at the top of her voice:

“An'an is so happy! With Mama here, An'an is the happiest!”

With her “self-correction,” the world returned to normal.

The sky became azure again.

Su Ke Ke’s smile also became lively and gentle once more.

She dotingly tapped An'an’s nose.

“You truly are my good child.”

An'an smiled, hugging her Mama even tighter.

Only, outside the dream bubble she couldn’t see, in the real world, the five members of the Joint Squad were deathly pale.

They sat cross-legged on the ground, drenched in cold sweat.

Their spiritual energy, like a candle about to burn out, was being consumed at an alarming rate, as they struggled to maintain the softly glowing dream bubble.

And around them was the boundless, dark red scorched earth, even more violent and malicious after losing the suppression of the “Wrath” core.

It was as if all of hell was mocking this “paradise” constructed of lies and sacrifice.

Within the constructed dream, time lost its meaning.

A day, a year, ten years… An'an “grew up” in that world of flowers under eternal sunshine.

She transformed from a naive little girl into a graceful “young woman.”

Her hair reached her waist, and she wore a dress woven for her by Mama from moonlight.

Barefoot, she trod on the soft petals, her smile as beautiful as a flower.

Mama taught her to read and write.

Every character she wrote was neat and perfect, never making a single mistake.

Mama taught her to sing and dance.

Her singing was like celestial music, and her steps were as light as a true butterfly’s, never missing a beat.

Together, they built a beautiful little house with fresh flowers and morning dew.

The roof was intertwined star trails, the walls solidified twilight.

An'an became increasingly “obedient” and “perfect.”

She had already learned how to be the most excellent “Soul Gardener.”

Any stray thought not belonging to “pure happiness,” as soon as it sprouted, was uprooted with the fastest speed and the most ruthless determination.

She even felt proud of this.

Because with every successful “pruning,” Mama’s smile would become a little gentler, and Mama’s embrace would become a little tighter.

It had been a very, very long time since she had allowed this perfect world to “stutter.”

She believed such happiness would last forever, until this day, her “birthday.”

Mama had prepared the grandest party for her.

The cake was baked with starlight, adorned with burning meteors.

In a crystal box was her gift: the reflection of the entire galaxy.

Su Ke Ke gently placed a flower crown, woven from the purest flowers, on An'an’s head, and tenderly kissed her forehead.

“My darling, make a wish.”

An'an happily closed her eyes, her hands pressed together.

In this extreme, complete happiness, a thought she had suppressed for far too long, one she had almost forgotten herself, stubbornly floated up like an undrownable bubble from the deep sea.

“If… if Sister Ling Xi, Brother Ye Qiong, Brother Gu Yanci… if they could also see all of this, how wonderful would that be…” This thought was not worry, not pity, but the purest, most instinctive… “sharing.”

A desire from the depths of human nature to share joy with companions.

However, it was this warmth that became the spark to ignite hell.

“Crack—Smash—”

This time, the world didn’t stutter.

Instead, it shattered like a mirror.

The perfect azure of the sky peeled away in fragments like a fragile eggshell, revealing the despairing, malice-churning dark red scorched earth behind it!

The soft, fragrant sea of flowers beneath her feet instantly turned into black ashes, swept away by the chilling wind.

The beautiful little house built with twilight and stars collapsed with a crash, turning back into a pile of decaying bones.

The warm sunlight vanished, replaced by cold, dead, utterly temperatureless pale moonlight.

An'an opened her eyes in terror, finding herself still in Mama’s arms.

However, that embrace was no longer warm and soft, but had become as hard and cold as ten-thousand-year-old profound ice!

She stiffly raised her head.

What she saw was no longer that gentle, loving face, but a lofty face, so perfect it lacked any human emotion… the face of a god.

In those eyes, there was no longer doting affection and fondness, only the indifference of someone observing an object.

Su Ke Ke… or rather, the encroaching manifestation of the World of Wrath, slowly spoke.

Her voice was no longer a gentle whisper like a spring breeze, but cold and clear, like a glacier cracking.

“Your heart has been stained with traces of ‘them.’”

An'an’s mind went blank.

She completely failed to understand what was happening, only shaking her head in fear, instinctively, like a child who had done something wrong.

“No… it’s not… Mama… I…”

The “God” interrupted her.

Those indifferent eyes gazed at her quietly.

“You learned very well, and you acted very well. You were almost… successful.”

“Unfortunately…”

“You are not her.”