A Thousand Years of Regret

"Senior Brother, the Dao is merciless. The gap between our talents is too vast. Staying together will only hinder me. After much thought, I've decided it's time for us to part ways."

The words fell softly, like autumn leaves, from the lips of a woman so breathtaking that it seemed the world held its breath in her presence.

Her ebony-black hair flowed like a midnight stream, framing flawless alabaster skin and luminous eyes that sparkled like stars in the night sky.

A soft breeze played with the hem of her thin white gown, pressing the fabric against her slender figure, outlining curves that seemed sculpted by celestial hands. The dress swirled in the wind, briefly revealing pale, bare feet that hovered inches above the ground, as if the earth itself dared not touch her.

Her delicate waist, the perfect arch of her form, and her ethereal beauty gave her an otherworldly allure—a vision that tested mortal limits.

Golden leaves floated down, settling gently in her hair, as though even nature sought to adorn her.

Before her stood an elderly man, his hair as white as snow. He leaned heavily on a cane, his frail body trembling, yet his eyes held a sorrowful clarity.

With a deep sigh, he spoke.

"So, the day has finally come. I cannot blame you."

His voice was heavy with resignation and tinged with regret. He bore no anger, only a profound sense of loss.

This man was Diao Changju, a cultivator who had spent his life in futility.

Before him stood Liuyan, the revered sect leader of Lingxiao Sect, one of the four great sects of the Dragon Profound Continent.

Liuyan was a prodigy, achieving near-immortal cultivation in less than a thousand years and heralded as the one most likely to ascend to become an Emperor.

And Diao Changju?

He was a man of mediocre talent, unable to break past the Core Formation stage even after nearly a millennium of effort.

At 990 years old, his cultivation remained stagnant at the mid-Core Formation stage, with his mortal life nearing its end.

Diao Changju's aged hands trembled as he looked at Liuyan's ageless, radiant face. His own wrinkled, withered reflection only deepened the bitterness in his heart.

"Do you regret marrying me?" he asked, his voice weak and hoarse.

Memories of their shared years flickered in Liuyan's mind, like a lantern swaying in the wind.

After a long silence, she answered, her tone calm and distant.

"I regret it."

Hearing those words, Diao Changju could no longer hold back his tears.

He had always known he was unworthy of her. He had tried, time and again, to close the gap between them. He had consumed countless elixirs and treasures gifted by her, yet his progress remained pitiful.

His failure was undeniable.

Liuyan watched as tears streamed down his weathered face. Her fingers twitched, as though she wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she held herself back.

Turning away, she left him with a view of her elegant back, her silhouette a stark contrast to his frail form.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the whisper of the wind.

Eventually, Diao Changju wiped his tears, forcing a bitter smile.

"Look at me, crying like this in front of my junior sister. What a disgrace."

Liuyan's voice was calm but firm.

"Senior Brother, your time is short. If there is any final wish you have, tell me, and I will do my best to fulfill it."

Diao Changju chuckled bitterly.

"A wish? Well, I do have one."

"What is it?" Liuyan asked, turning to face him.

For a moment, he was captivated by her face, a face he had adored for centuries.

"Since we're parting ways, can you grant me one final night together? Consider it your last gift to me," he said with a faint smile, though his tone was half-joking.

"You… shameless old man!" Liuyan's cheeks flushed crimson, and for a moment, she looked less like the untouchable sect leader and more like the shy young woman he had once known.

"Are you serious?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Of course not," he stammered. "It was just a joke."

Liuyan hesitated, her gaze softening.

"One night, to honor the bond we once shared. I suppose I can grant you that."

Diao Changju's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Really?"

"Don't make me regret it," she replied, her face still flushed.

"Help me to the room, then!" he said, suddenly animated as he leaned on his cane.

Liuyan stepped forward, her graceful movements swift as she helped him inside. The door closed softly behind them.

Five minutes later...

Liuyan bent down, her movements elegant as she picked up her discarded clothes and began dressing.

"We're even now, Senior Brother," she said quietly, her tone distant once more.

Diao Changju lay on the bed, his breathing labored as he struggled to sit up, his old waist protesting with every move.

"Some haven't even begun, and I've already finished," he muttered bitterly.

"Can you blame me? With you, who could last?" he grumbled under his breath.

Liuyan's voice suddenly echoed in the room.

"If your old back weren't so weak, I wouldn't have had to take charge. Blame yourself."

Startled, Diao Changju stammered, "You're still here?"

"Now I'm leaving," she replied, her tone indifferent.

The door clicked shut.

As Diao Changju slowly dressed, a voice suddenly echoed in his mind.

"Congratulations, Host! You've been dumped. System activation successful."

"WHAT?!" he shouted, jolting upright—only to cry out as he pulled his back.

"Nine hundred and ninety years! Do you have any idea what I've been through?" he exclaimed.

"Well, if you'd gotten dumped sooner, I would've activated sooner. It's not my fault it took you this long."

"You're blaming me for this?!"

And thus, Diao Changju's story truly began.