Chapter 202: The Uniqueness of Soul Cultivation

Shingin gradually calmed down, his tears finally stopping, and his shoulders no longer trembling. Tsubasa slowly released her tight grip on his collar, her gaze tinged with cold indifference and disdain, as if silently condemning his weakness.

She let out a faint scoff, turned her head slightly, then turned away to sit back down on the grass. Her flowing crimson hair swayed gently, inadvertently falling into Shingin's line of sight. The delicate face that had been so close just moments ago lingered vividly in his mind—a chiseled visage with features exuding an aloof and unapproachable beauty. The faint scent of rhododendrons still hung in the air, cold and distant, yet strangely unsettling.

Lowering his head, Shingin's throat bobbed slightly as he muttered in a hoarse voice, as if speaking to himself or delivering his own sentence: "It was me... I killed them..."

His voice brimmed with self-blame and pain, as though he was finally facing the inescapable guilt he'd been avoiding.

Tsubasa turned to look at him, her crimson eyes flashing with an unreadable glint before settling into a cold expression.

"Don't act so naïve." Her voice was icy, but there was a faint undercurrent of emotion she couldn't fully suppress. "Don't think you're the only one who's been through this... Everyone in this world has suffered, has lost someone they cared about. You're just feeling it for the first time."

Shingin jerked his head up, staring at Tsubasa in stunned silence. Her expression seemed softer than before, yet the icy detachment remained. She turned away again, refusing to meet his gaze.

A heavy silence enveloped them like an unseen curtain. Shingin's head hung low, his eyes fixed on the ground as her words pierced his thoughts like a sharp thorn. His mind swirled with images—scenes of a city consumed by flames: shattered streets, collapsed buildings, blood-stained ruins. Helpless cries echoed through the darkness as people searched desperately for warmth, for solace. Even the once-vibrant flowers and trees had withered into lifeless remnants, testaments to the devastation.

In that moment, he finally understood—this pain wasn't his alone. A weight bore down on his chest, the collective burden of countless lives lost in the calamity.

Tsubasa's calm voice broke the silence, carrying a glint of sharp insight: "People think they understand through empathy, but only when they've lived it can they grasp the true weight of it all."

Her gaze was like the edge of a blade, cutting into the depths of Shingin's soul and exposing the truths he could no longer deny.

Shingin's emotions settled, her words acting as a mirror that reflected his narrow perspective. Wiping the tears from his face, his eyes began to clear, filling with a quiet resolve. His mother's death would always remain a wound, but he couldn't let it drag him down further. He had to rise—for her, and for the innocent lives that had been lost.

A gentle breeze stirred, rustling the surrounding grass. Shingin felt a warm current flow through his chest, as if something deep within his soul was awakening. The withered grass around them swayed softly in the wind, taking on a renewed vitality. Faint glimmers of light danced among the blades, as though they had been infused with life.

Tsubasa observed the scene, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly, her tone carrying a hint of deeper meaning: "That's what soul cultivation is. Enlightenment brings growth."

Shingin froze, staring at the glowing grass before him. He glanced down at his hands, then back at the revitalized greenery, amazement filling his eyes. Looking at Tsubasa, he stammered, "You... you know how to cultivate souls? I only listened to your words, and yet—"

Her gaze turned cold once more, her eyes flashing with sharpness. "Your soul is your own. It has nothing to do with me. You were just too dull to realize it before."

Shingin opened his mouth to ask further, but her piercing gaze silenced him. He lowered his head, deep in thought. Today, for what felt like the hundredth time, Tsubasa's brutally direct words struck him like a dagger to the heart.

Closing his eyes, Shingin focused on the warm flow in his chest. He understood that his soul was undergoing a transformation, something entirely new—and this was only the beginning.

"Tsubasa, your... your family?" Shingin asked hesitantly, his voice cautious as though afraid of touching a hidden wound.

Tsubasa's expression faltered for a brief moment, her eyes clouded with complex emotions. But in an instant, she regained her composure, her tone flat: "They're dead."

Her voice was calm, almost indifferent, as if recounting a mundane fact. "I'm the daughter of the fourth-generation leader of the Revolutionary Faction. An only child."

Shingin froze, his eyes widening in shock. "You're—"

Tsubasa shot him a sharp glance, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Can you not blow everything out of proportion? It's just a title. Fourth-generation leader's daughter—what's so surprising about that? Honestly, ridiculous."

Shingin felt a weight in his chest, a mix of guilt and discomfort. He could sense Tsubasa's natural aloofness in her words, but each sentence, each glance, felt like a subtle dismissal of him—a fledgling trying to measure up to a master who had long transcended his understanding.

Tsubasa's gaze swept over him, and suddenly, she extended a hand, her voice calm but firm: "Since we're both part of the Revolutionary Faction, give me your alien soul as thanks."

"Alien soul?" Shingin blinked, then smiled wryly. "So you're after that too..."

Reluctantly, he attempted to summon a fragment of his alien soul, as he had done before. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't produce it. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he frowned deeply, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Strange... why can't I?"

Tsubasa's expression shifted from detachment to a hint of urgency, then to a subtle mix of pain and disappointment. She bit her lip slightly, her voice low: "If you don't want to give it, then stop making excuses."

"No, that's not it!" Shingin shook his head, his tone sincere and apologetic. "I really can't... Why? Have I given too much away before?"

Tsubasa remained silent, her gaze steady but layered with complexity.

Feeling embarrassed, Shingin scratched his head and stammered, "I'm sorry... Honestly, I don't fully understand what the alien soul even is yet..."

Seeing the faint vulnerability in Tsubasa's expression, guilt welled up within him. He quickly added, "If I figure out a way to give it later, I promise I'll give it to you. Truly!"

For a fleeting moment, Tsubasa's lips curved ever so slightly, but the smile vanished almost instantly. Her tone softened slightly, tinged with fatigue: "Forget it. What happens next... we'll see."

Shingin nodded slightly, his gaze lingering on Tsubasa's cold yet exquisitely beautiful face. Her crimson hair swayed gently in the breeze, framing a sharp elegance, while her eyes, like a frozen lake, remained inscrutable.

Lowering his eyes, Shingin silently resolved: No matter what, I must find a way to repay her kindness. If I ever get the chance, I'll do whatever it takes to express my gratitude for her saving me.