Re-birth: The Beginning after the End-Chapter 205: TOGETHER
Li Hua studied Mo Xing's extended hand, weighing decisions and consequences with the calculating precision that had defined her previous life as an assassin, and now characterized her approach to cultivation challenges. A part of her—the ever-curious tactician—welcomed the opportunity to glimpse fragments of Mo Xing's past. What experiences had shaped this man? What secrets lay behind those golden eyes that shifted between playful mischief and wisdom?
Yet, accepting his offered hand meant potentially exposing her own shadows. There were memories from her modern world existence that still cut deep—failures she couldn't prevent, people she couldn't save, the hollow emptiness that had driven her to accept death without resistance. Even in this new life, there were moments of weakness and vulnerability she preferred to keep hidden, especially from someone as insightful as Mo Xing.
She raised her eyes to meet his, finding unexpected patience in his gaze. There was no pressure in his extended hand, no demand—only an offer. In that moment, something shifted in her calculation. Though accepting his help would undoubtedly cement his suspicions about her not belonging to this world, deep within her, instincts she'd learned to trust whispered that this risk was worth taking. The prospect of facing the Grove alone suddenly seemed more daunting than the risk of being known by him. Whatever the forest might reveal about her past, facing it beside Mo Xing felt... right, in a way she couldn't logically justify.
"Together," she decided, her voice steadier than she expected as she placed her hand in his. Their fingers interlaced with natural ease, as if they had held each other through countless challenges before. The warmth of his palm against hers sent a current of reassurance through her.
"That's my Stormy," Mo Xing murmured, his smile containing none of its usual teasing quality—only genuine warmth that reached his golden eyes.
They stepped onto the path together, the luminous roots beneath their feet pulsing in response to their combined spiritual signatures. The forest around them seemed to hesitate, as if recalculating its approach to those who refused the expected separation. The whispering intensified, overlapping voices now carrying fragments of recognizable words—memories, promises, regrets—swirling through the mist that had begun to gather between the ancient trees.
The path led them deeper into the Grove, winding between massive trunks. Unlike the rest of the Whispering Forest, which displayed a vibrant chaos of competing life forms, the Grove maintained an eerie uniformity—each tree identical to its neighbors, creating a disorienting effect that made it impossible to mark their progress.
"The Grove is adapting," Mo Xing observed quietly, his gaze scanning the unchanging scenery. "It's searching our combined past for memories it can utilize."
As if summoned by his words, the mist before them thickened, coalescing into a translucent screen that stretched across the path. Within its swirling depths, images began to form—fragmented scenes that shifted and changed too quickly to fully comprehend. Li Hua caught glimpses of a modern cityscape.
Her grip on Mo Xing's hand tightened involuntarily as she recognized fragments of her previous life interwoven with moments from her current existence. The Grove was extracting memories directly from her soul, displaying them without context or chronology. She wanted to look at Mo Xing, to gauge his reaction to these revelations of her otherworldly origins, but nervousness about what she might see in his expression kept her gaze fixed on the scenes unfolding before her.
"Don't try to control or direct what it shows," Mo Xing advised, his voice a steady anchor as more images flickered across the misty screen. "The Grove responds to resistance by intensifying its efforts. Simply observe and acknowledge."
Li Hua forced herself to relax, allowing the parade of memories to flow without interference. As she accepted rather than fought the process, the images began to stabilize, focusing on a specific moment—one she had revisited often in the quiet hours before dawn, when sleep remained elusive and regrets surfaced with predictable clarity.
The mist solidified into a perfect representation of a hospital room, rendered with unsettling accuracy down to the rhythmic beeping of monitoring equipment and the antiseptic smell that permeated the air. A younger version of her modern-world self sat beside a hospital bed, holding the rough hand of a man who was covered in wounds, his breathing inconsistent.
"I'm sorry," the memory-Li Hua whispered, voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, Master."
The dying man's eyes opened, focusing with effort. For the first time in all the years she had known him, a smile softened his habitually stern features—this cold and distant master who had shaped her into a weapon without ever showing affection. "Little rat," he whispered, using the harsh nickname that had somehow become an endearment. "Always fighting battles for everyone but yourself."
"Master, I'm so sorry," her voice broke, tears streaming down her cheeks despite years of training against such weakness.
"Silence, little rat." His command lacked its usual edge. "This was my choice."
"If I had been faster, stronger—"
"Listen to me." His calloused fingers tightened around hers with surprising strength. "I need your word on something."
Li Hua leaned closer, tears blurring her vision. "Anything, Master."
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"Find what I never could in this life." His eyes, usually cold and calculating, now held an unexpected gentleness. "A life worth living, not just surviving."
Li Hua nodded as she sniffled softly.
"Don't waste tears on an old assassin like me, little rat. Death is just taking me where I've wanted to go." His gaze drifted, seeing something beyond the sterile hospital room. "To her."
The scene faded and Li Hua felt Mo Xing's gaze on her profile but continue to keep her eyes fixed on the dissipating mist, unwilling to see what judgment or pity might show in his expression. She had never spoken of her previous life's master to anyone in this world—the complicated relationship with the man who had both saved her from the streets and molded her into a perfect killer, who had demanded absolute loyalty while showing nothing but cold efficiency in return.
The mist before them shifted again, this time coalescing into multiple scenes that played in rapid succession—all showing the same person in different settings, but with the same intent. First, Li Hua's former self sat in a stark apartment, staring at a bottle of pills, some already spilled into her palm. Then, standing at the edge of a rooftop, toes over the precipice before stepping back. Later, a gun pressed against her temple, then slowly lowered. And finally, deliberate recklessness during a mission—charging into danger without protective gear or backup.
"You wanted to die," Mo Xing observed quietly, his tone neither accusatory nor pitying—simply stating a truth revealed by the Grove.
Li Hua didn't deny it. "There were days I struggled to see the meaning of life," she answered, forcing herself to acknowledge the reality the Grove had extracted from her soul.
His fingers tightened around hers with a gentle pressure—a wordless gesture of support that conveyed more understanding than any speech could have offered.
The mist swirled again, showing the branching possibilities that her choice had eliminated—a path where she had taken a different contract and her master lived, and another where she had abandoned the assassin's path entirely. The Grove of Whispering Shadows was revealing exactly what Mo Xing had described: paths not taken, consequences of choices made, people left behind.
As the parade of might-have-beens continued, Li Hua felt something unusual—not the pain of regret she had expected, but a growing certainty that her current path, despite its complications and mysteries, held purpose that her previous existence had lacked.
"The Grove doesn't just show you what was lost," Mo Xing said, as if reading her thoughts. "It reveals what was gained through the choices made." His voice carried an unexpected gentleness, his fingers still entwined with hers despite the darkness he had witnessed in her past. "That's why most travelers find it so difficult—recognizing the necessity of their painful choices requires a courage few possess."
Before Li Hua could respond, the mist before them shifted dramatically, its color changing from silvery gray to a deep crimson shot through with threads of obsidian. The images forming within no longer appeared to be drawn from her memories, but instead showed scenes she didn't recognize.
