Ling Chuxi couldn’t help but get excited when she thought about it, but the idea felt like an unattainable dream, so Ling Chuxi didn’t entertain it too much.
“Forget it. If you like using I (1) so much, then just use it. Can you treat Xiaomo now?” Ling Chuxi was too lazy to argue with him. Since he had slept in darkness for tens of thousands of years, she would let him do as he pleased for a while.
“No problem! We shall now witness the magnificent power of I (1), Cang Yuan,” Cang Yuan declared in elation.
The spirit body swayed, then flew into Duan Xiaomo’s forehead. Ling Chuxi held the boy’s hands and sank into her mind, her divine consciousness entering Duan Xiaomo’s mind ocean.
In the boundless mind ocean, the great figure of Cang Yuan stood loftily. The sword in his hand slashed out again and again. It was the Cang Yuan Seven Sword style that Ling Chuxi had learned, but in his hands, it gave off a completely different feeling. Every move carried a supreme power that could cut through the universe.
Watching him in Duan Xiaomo’s mind ocean, Ling Chuxi felt like the whole world was subjected to his sword intent. She couldn’t imagine how majestic it would have looked when Master Cang Yuan personally demonstrated the Seven Sword Styles of Cang Yuan!
With a slash from Cang Yuan’s sword, Duan Xiaomo’s Celestial Core started moving, cutting apart and dissolving the grids that were dividing Duan Xiaomo’s mind ocean into numerous pieces. Duan Xiaomo’s mind did not go into chaos, but under the guidance of Cang Yuan, his mind rearranged and combined into its original order without any mistakes.
Ling Chuxi realized that although the current Cang Yuan was only a spirit body, his mental power was still much stronger than her own. If it was her, she would not have been able to reorganize his mind so accurately even though she could clearly see those grids.
Feeling the vast and mysterious sword intent of Cang Yuan, Ling Chuxi forgot about time, and only regained her senses when the last grid was cleared.
In the mind ocean of Duan Xiaomo, all that was left was the last piece of silk-wadding-like black fog, presumably the gloomy poison that Cang Yuan had mentioned. If it wasn’t completely removed, Duan Xiaomo would not fully recover. Even so, his condition had greatly improved, and he had recovered most of his sanity.
“Where… Where am I?” Duan Xiaomo’s vague gaze slowly cleared, and the previous emptiness in his eyes disappeared as he looked around curiously.
“Xiaomo, you’ve recovered?” Ling Chuxi grabbed Duan Xiaomo’s hand in surprise.
“You… You are Ling Chuxi. I… Who am I?” Duan Xiaomo gazed at Ling Chuxi for a long time and murmured.
“You are Xiaomo—Duan Xiaomo! Do you remember?” Hearing Duan Xiaomo speaking, Ling Chuxi burst into tears of joy. Duan Xiaomo had recovered his sanity!
“Duan Xiaomo… That’s right, my name is Duan Xiaomo.” Duan Xiaomo nodded slowly, then looked around. “Where are my father and mother? Why am I here?”
Ling Chuxi was silent, not knowing how to answer.
“Ah, I remember now. My father is dead, and my mother is dead too. I watched them get killed with my own eyes,” Duan Xiaomo said calmly, no sadness or anger on his face, as if he was talking about complete strangers.
“Xiaomo…” Seeing the strange calmness of Duan Xiaomo, Ling Chuxi felt inexplicably sad. Even if he cried or shouted, it would have been much better than this calmness. How was this possible? Could it have been too much? Or was it because the gloomy poison had not been completely eliminated yet?
(1) Same as last chapter