I alone am the Honoured One!

*flick* Zhao Tian reappeared in his room and slowly sat on his bed as he recounted the events that happened in the past few days.

He could still feel the ache in his chest, but he clenched his teeth, bearing the pain.

He turned slightly, and in the next moment, a headless corpse and a severed head appeared on the bed beside him.

Zhao Tian's breath hitched.

His eyes flickered with emotion as he looked at the familiar figure.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out, brushing away strands of dried blood-matted hair from her pale, lifeless face.

Yao Jing.

Her once vibrant and mischievous eyes were now lifeless.

Her body is battered.

Bruises and deep lacerations covered her skin showing the suffering she had endured before death finally claimed her.

Her blood had long since dried, leaving dark crimson stains on her torn robes.

Zhao Tian's breath grew unsteady and his vision blurred slightly as a sharp, unbearable grief clawed at his very soul.

"Forgive me… Jing'er."

He reached out and his fingers gently grazed her cold cheek, which was once so warm and full of life.

Now, there was nothing. No warmth.

His hand trembled as he traced the dried tear marks that had streaked down her once flawless skin.

He could almost hear her laughter, her playful voice teasing him, calling his name with that familiar tone of affection.

But now... nothing remained.

He exhaled deeply, his heart heavy with regret.

Slowly, with an almost reverent tenderness, he took her severed head and carefully placed it back onto her shoulders.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing her cold, lifeless body against his chest.

The warmth of his own body did nothing to bring hers back, but he held her anyway, as if his touch alone could undo fate's cruelty.

"I should have protected you…"

What was the point of power if he couldn't even save the one person who had trusted him? Who had… loved him?

He inhaled sharply, pushing down the suffocating grief before it consumed him.

Instead, he channeled his light energy and a soft golden glow enveloped his hands as he began to mend her wounds.

He worked carefully, delicately, as if he could somehow ease the suffering she had endured, even in death.

The deep cuts closed, the bruises faded, and the traces of death were slowly erased... but he knew it was futile.

No matter how much he healed her, she would never open her eyes again.

Yet, he continued.

He couldn't bear to see her like this.

Looking at her dead body, his eyes quivered in grief.

Even in death, she was beautiful.

Zhao Tian closed his eyes, holding her just a little tighter.

He just sat there, holding Yao Jing's lifeless body in his arms.

His fingers traced the familiar contours of her face, brushing away strands of hair clotted with blood.

She had always been so full of life.

Now, she is cold.

Zhao Tian exhaled slowly, forcing himself to move past the grief pressing against his chest.

His gaze softened as he brushed his thumb over her closed eyelids, wiping away the remnants of tears she had shed.

"You would hate to be seen like this, wouldn't you, Jing'er?"

He could almost hear her teasing response, scolding him for looking so pitiful.

But she wasn't here to say those words.

With quiet resolve, he shifted his arms and laid her body gently on the bed, ensuring her head rested properly on the pillow.

His movements were careful, treating her with the reverence she deserved.

Her robes were now torn, stained with blood.

The sight of it made his stomach twist. She had fought until the very end.

Zhao Tian clenched his fists for a moment before taking a deep breath and steadying himself.

With the utmost care, he began to remove her ruined robes, his fingers working gently to free her from the tattered fabric.

The moment her skin was exposed to the cool air, he paused and his throat tightened.

Bruises.

Deep, dark bruises covered her arms and torso.

His hand hovered over them and a spark of yellow light flickered at his fingertips, but he knew there was nothing left to heal.

Moving to the shelf, he took a bowl and summoned water mixed with heat, creating hot water.

Then he grabbed a towel from the table.

He dipped the fabric into the water, wrung it out gently, and began to clean her body.

He wiped away the dried blood from her arms, her collarbone, and her hands.

His breath hitched slightly when he reached her neck, where a faint mark remained.

His fingers curled around the cloth tightly before he forced himself to continue, washing away the dirt.

As he worked, his mind drifted to memories of her.

Once he had carefully wiped every trace of blood from her body, he reached out and took a set of fresh robes from his storage ring.

Draping the fabric over her, he dressed her with the same care one would handle the most fragile thing in existence.

He smoothed out the folds of her sleeves, ensuring they fell neatly at her sides.

The sash was tied gently around her waist, not too tight, just enough to keep everything in place.

When he was done, he sat back slightly, taking in the sight before him.

She looked as if she was just sleeping.

If he ignored the unnatural stillness of her chest and the absence of the soft rise and fall of her breath, he could almost fool himself into believing that she would wake up at any moment.

That she would open her eyes, smile at him, and tell him he was being ridiculous for mourning when she was right here.

But she wasn't.

Zhao Tian reached out one last time, brushing his fingers through her dark, silken hair, smoothing it over her shoulders.

Then, with a deep breath, he gently placed a kiss on her forehead, lingering for just a moment.

"Rest well, Jing'er."

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I hope you guys liked this chapter!