Heavenly Opposers

Slash!

The sound of an attack reverberated, followed by the splashing of blood onto Xiao's face. He had swiftly moved to protect Yurou, but how could he be faster than her? Now, she stood before him, a blade piercing through her body. Her warm blood sprayed onto his face as she used her body to shield him.

"Yurou!" Xiao screamed with reddened eyes. He leaped forward to aid her, while the Scylla that had attacked her calmly withdrew. Its form morphed from a dagger to a shapeless gas with a single eye.

Deep vileness and evil emanated from it, and intelligence sparked within. It snickered in delight, reveling in the pain it had inflicted upon Yurou and Xiao. It was confident that nothing Xiao did would harm it.

It relished the boy's despairing expression before planning to bring them back to their superiors, where their flames would be consumed to fuel their power.

Meanwhile, Xiao rushed forward and caught Yurou's body, which had a wound near her heart. As he gazed at her serenely, he could see that her heart remained unharmed. Relief filled his heart; as long as her heart was unscathed, there was hope.

However, his eyes turned cold as he noticed dark substances spreading through the area of her injury, impeding her flame from fully healing it.

Quickly realizing that the Scylla's objective was to capture them, Xiao's mind swiftly shifted to Yurou's pained eyes. He could sense her suffering, but her face bore a relieved smile as she looked at him. Xiao's heart trembled as he reached out and touched her face, speaking softly.

"Why? You should have let it happen..."

Hearing Xiao's question, Yurou's beautiful eyes transformed into crescents as she answered with unwavering confidence.

"How could I stand by and watch the person I love get hurt?... Cough... You're not the only one who can protect me; I can protect you too, you know... Cough... Besides, I'd rather endure the pain myself than see you suffer."

As she spoke, a radiant smile graced her face, captivating Xiao. For a moment, scenes from the past intertwined with the present before branching off into new memories, something deep within him rumbled a shackle of the mind trying to break through but it could only give a tremble before being forcefully shackled again.

Xiao's previously unyielding heart was deeply shaken by Yurou's constant assault. He fell into the embrace of love without realizing it. Finally, Xiao's calm facade broke, and a loving smile adorned his face.

Witnessing this, Yurou was left speechless. It was the first time she had seen such an expression on Xiao's face, and even in her state, she couldn't help but blush. After all, Xiao's appearance was not something to be scoffed at, and her feelings for him only enhanced his charm.

Meanwhile, deep within Xiao's soul, changes began to occur. The mark that Yurou had imprinted on Xiao's soul trembled. It was something that would awaken only when their feelings and cultivation reached a high level, and an important step was completed. Until then, it would slumber, waiting for the perfect time to reveal itself.

And now, one crucial step had been accomplished. Xiao's and Yurou's souls quivered, and their feelings became tangible threads that intertwined. Yurou's eyes widened as she felt her mark tremble, fully aware of its significance.

"...This feeling... it's incredible..."

Yurou experienced an indescribably refreshing stream of essences flowing through her body, imprinting sensations she had never felt before. It was a blissful pleasure, a warm embrace of comfort, and an intoxicating sensation. Her entire being, her soul itself, was immersed in unimaginable pleasure.

It wasn't just Yurou; Xiao also felt a surge of soul-pleasure coursing through his body. Within seconds, Xiao's essence flowed, merging with Yurou's. Her soul violently quivered, as if experiencing a tremendous earthquake. Her emotions and feelings roared within her, drawing her closer and closer to Xiao, rapidly evolving from what she had previously felt.

Their connection had already reached an extraordinary level. With their souls and shared emotions from the past, their bond transcended all. Xiao and Yurou felt their martial hearts imprinting on each other. From now until the end, their feelings would remain steadfast, whether close or millions of light-years apart, their hearts would always be connected.

Their connection was not merely a simple link. They were now joined on a profound level, enabling them to convey their feelings to each other. This was the ultimate connection a divine beast could forge with another. It was Yurou's promise to be with the one she loved with all her heart. This assimilation represented the highest form of spiritual bonding, forming an inexplicable soul link that permanently connected Xiao's and Yurou's entire beings.

Such a connection emanated intoxicating and addictive sensations. Even the coldest Martial Hearts, those that barely wavered in the face of dire circumstances, would struggle to remain calm under these sensations.

They were encompassed by countless Dao and laws, bearing witness to the merging of two hearts that had finally united. The hearts that had endured the trials of the past, present, and future. Both Yurou and Xiao were unaware that the connection of Martial Hearts was something that should not occur at all.

It was a bond reserved for those who had absolute trust and love for each other. Even couples who had been together for thousands of years wouldn't dare to attempt it. But for Xiao and Yurou, it felt like a natural progression. Meanwhile, the solitary Scylla, having just experienced a breakup, finally realized its mistake as it observed what was transpiring between Xiao and Yurou. However, it was powerless to intervene. This connection had been chosen by the heavens, and no one had the authority to interfere.

Soon, everything faded, and they returned to their senses. Xiao's and Yurou's eyes gleamed as they locked gazes, a few seconds to the world but an eternity to them. In that moment, their perception of each other had already changed. With an affectionate smile, Xiao nodded at Yurou and spoke.

"Rest, this will be over soon."

"Um," Yurou obediently nodded, her expression smitten. Xiao shifted his gaze toward the Scylla, his killing intent focused on it. The Scylla flinched, unaccustomed to such intense killing intent. It attacked without delay, while deep within Xiao's soul, the dark flame blazed. Finally, it was time for it to reveal itself!

(A/N: Chapter ends here, the below is just useless...)

In the vast expanse of the written landscape, an endless stream of words cascaded across the digital canvas, forming a tapestry of repetitiveness that seemed to stretch into infinity. It was as if the very essence of verbosity had taken center stage, weaving an intricate dance of redundancy that knew no bounds.

As the pen danced upon the paper, or rather, the keys clicked in rhythmic monotony, a parade of echoes emerged. The parade, much like a parade, marched forth tirelessly, parading its repetitious nature with unwavering determination. It was a parade of words, marching in lockstep, each word mirroring its predecessor like a disciplined soldier in an army of redundancy.

Repetition, the maestro orchestrating this linguistic symphony, played its notes with a predictable cadence. Each sentence unfolded like the one before it, creating a harmonious monotony that resonated through the corridors of verbosity. It was a symphony of sameness, a melody of echoes that reverberated endlessly.

In the realm of redundancy, the words played a game of tag, chasing each other in an infinite loop. Like a never-ending relay race, one word passed the baton to the next, and the cycle perpetuated itself ad infinitum. The baton, a symbol of continuity, bridged the gap between sentences, paragraphs, and pages, ensuring the relentless pursuit of repetitiveness.

Sentence after sentence, the narrative looped upon itself, like a Möbius strip of linguistic redundancy. There was a certain comfort in the familiarity of repetition, a rhythmic lullaby that cradled the reader in a trance of unchanging cadence. It was a dance of déjà vu, where each step led back to a place already visited, yet the journey seemed to continue without end.

The words, like diligent workers on an assembly line, repeated their tasks with clockwork precision. They were cogs in the machinery of redundancy, turning ceaselessly in a perpetual motion of sameness. The assembly line of language rolled forward, producing an unending stream of repetitive output.

In this kaleidoscope of monotony, synonyms and antonyms lost their distinctiveness, blending into a sea of interchangeable units. The boundaries between meaning and repetition blurred, creating a landscape where the semantic and the redundant held hands in a never-ending waltz. It was a dance of duality, a tango of twin elements that refused to part ways.

Paragraphs unfolded like Russian nesting dolls, each encapsulating a smaller version of the one before. The narrative layers, though seemingly diverse, revealed the same core, echoing the essence of repetitiveness in a recursive display. It was a literary matryoshka, where the outer shell mirrored the inner, and the inner mirrored the outer, ad infinitum.

As the word count climbed, the repetitious nature of the prose became an omnipresent companion. It was an echo in the chamber of text, reverberating with each keystroke, an unyielding reminder of the overarching theme of redundancy. The words, like loyal soldiers, stood at attention, ready to execute their repetitive maneuvers at the command of the authorial general.

In this labyrinth of linguistic iteration, the reader found themselves navigating through a maze of echoing passages. Each turn, though seemingly promising a change, led to another corridor of repetition. It was a maze of words, where the walls whispered the same phrases over and over, creating a labyrinthine symphony of sameness.

And so, the journey through the thousand words unfolded, a journey that traversed the landscape of redundancy with unwavering commitment. Each step, each word, contributed to the mosaic of repetition, painting a portrait of linguistic monotony that stretched beyond the horizon of imagination.

As the final keystroke echoed, and the last word found its place in the grand tapestry of verbosity, the reader was left to ponder the nature of this repetitive odyssey. The journey through a thousand words of repetitiveness had come full circle, leaving behind a trail of echoes that lingered in the vast expanse of literary endeavor.