Between Life and Death

Chapter 36

The room was eerily silent except for Ling's ragged breathing. His body lay still, his once-powerful form weakened by the infection that ravaged him from the inside. The scar from Yuchen's enchanted blade pulsed with a dark energy, the veins around it blackened and twisting like cursed roots.

Ping knelt beside him, gripping his cold hand. "Hold on," she whispered. "Please, just hold on."

The witch stepped forward, drawing a small dagger from her robe. Its blade shimmered with an eerie green glow. She traced a circle in the air, chanting in a language that sent shivers through everyone in the room.

"This magic is ancient," the witch murmured. "It feeds on his soul, binding him to death's grasp. If we break it, the pain will be unbearable."

Ping's grip tightened. "I don't care. Do whatever it takes."

The witch nodded and pressed the tip of the dagger against Ling's scar. The moment the blade made contact, Ling's body arched violently, a guttural cry ripping from his throat. Blood poured from his nose and mouth, staining the sheets. His eyes shot open, glowing red with agony.

"LING!" Ping screamed, but he couldn't hear her.

He thrashed against the bed, his breathing sharp and erratic. The veins around the wound turned darker, resisting the magic trying to purge them. The witch pressed harder, chanting louder, her voice merging with the howling winds outside.

Ling's pain was unbearable. It felt as though fire was consuming his entire body, burning through his veins, ripping through his very soul. Memories flashed before his eyes—his parents, Yuchen's betrayal, the moment he first saw Ping.

Through the haze of agony, he felt something—soft, warm, familiar.

A hand on his face.

He barely registered Ping climbing onto the bed, cradling his head in her lap, her tears falling onto his burning skin.

"Stay with me," she whispered desperately. "Don't leave me."

Something inside him latched onto her voice. Her warmth. Her presence.

The witch let out a final chant before plunging the dagger deep into the wound. A dark mist exploded from Ling's body, filling the room with an ear-piercing shriek. The windows shattered, and the candles flickered wildly before everything fell into complete stillness.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then—

Ling gasped, his body going limp.

Ping shook him. "Ling? Ling, wake up!"

His breathing was shallow, but he was alive. The dark veins that had once surrounded his wound had disappeared, and though he was weak, the infection was gone.

The witch exhaled. "It is done."

Ping pressed her forehead against Ling's, relief washing over her like a wave. "You're safe," she whispered.

Ling's fingers twitched, barely brushing against her hand. His voice, weak but clear, sent shivers through her.

"…I told you I wouldn't fall so easily."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she let out a choked laugh. "Idiot."

She held onto him, refusing to let go.

This time, she wouldn't lose him.