The bone field trembled violently as golden light surged through the land. Bones scattered across the ground began to melt, turning into shimmering sand.
The false "mother" shattered—not into dust, but into threads of black silk, drawn upward into a crack in the sky, vanishing beyond the boundary of dimensions.
"SHE'S RETURNING TO THE SOURCE!"
The butterfly tattoo on Ye Lin's arm screamed, its voice barely audible.
"THIS IS ANOTHER TRICK! STAY SHARP!"
As the light faded, Ye Lin found herself standing in a field of rich, dark earth—no longer the bone field, nor the golden cornfield.
The wooden hut still stood nearby, but now it looked stronger, as if its roots had reached deep into the soil.
On the wall, the seventy-nine portraits of her face no longer wept.
Their expressions were blank—but no longer pained.
They had been purified.
From the earth before her, the golden corn seed—once embedded in the false bowl rose gently into Ye Lin's palm.
It pulsed with life, and from it, the small shadow returned, now slightly larger, standing as tall as her knee.
Its face was clearer now—a younger version of Ye Lin, but with ancient wisdom shining in its eyes.
"We've closed one door," said the small shadow calmly.
"But hundreds more await to be opened."
Ye Lin looked around.
This new land felt… hungry.
Not the kind of hunger that devours, but one that yearns for life.
She could hear the call in every grain of soil, in every breath of air.
"What do I do now?" she asked.
She felt her power change again.
No longer did she feel the urge to destroy.
Now—she felt the urge to build.
The butterfly tattoo glowed softly.
"THIS WORLD IS YOUR CANVAS NOW, GUARDIAN.
IT HUNGERS FOR CREATION.
FOR TRUE MEMORY."
In the distance, at the edge of her new land, a small crack opened in the dark-blue sky.
From it, silhouettes began to form—not shadowy hands or monstrous faces
but familiar figures from her old village.
"They're coming," whispered the small shadow, eyes fixed on the crack.
"The 'visitors' from the outside world.
They won't wait."
Ye Lin clutched the golden seed in one hand and the bone knife in the other.
The knife no longer felt cold or dull
it was warm, softly pulsing, like a living extension of her will.
"Then let's show them what it means to be a true Guardian," she said.
The crack in the sky widened, and this time it poured out more than shadows.
Figures stepped through.
Elders with wrinkled faces.
Children running with laughter.
Neighbors she had once known
all familiar.
But something was wrong.
Their eyes were blank, their skin pale, and their movements rigid, like puppets.
"A MASSIVE-SCALE ILLUSION!"
The butterfly tattoo screamed again.
"THE COLLECTOR NO LONGER SEEKS YOUR FRAGMENTS
HE'S TESTING YOUR RESILIENCE!"
"A test?" Ye Lin murmured, stepping out of her hut.
The soft earth beneath her feet now felt solid and steady.
The illusory villagers began to speak.
Their voices rustled like dry leaves.
"Lin'er, why did you leave us?" asked an old woman's voice—exactly like her mother's.
"Why did you bring death to our village?" shouted a man, his tone echoing a neighbor from long ago.
"Monster!" the children screamed, their hollow eyes staring in silent judgment.
Each word was a dagger—aimed to awaken the Regret and Loneliness Ye Lin had already purified.
She felt the bitter memories of her death, the grief she left behind, trying to crawl back into her mind.
But the golden seed in her hand pulsed warm
its light pushed back the creeping darkness.
The small shadow beside her glowed faintly too.
"They're not real," it whispered.
"Just shades of your guilt, twisted against you."
Ye Lin raised the bone knife.
It no longer felt like a weapon of destruction
but a scalpel, meant to cut truth from illusion.
"You can't hurt me with these ghosts," she said.
Her voice echoed across the vast, dreamlike field.
"I've walked through death.
I've purified my sorrow."
The illusions rushed her.
Not with physical force
but with a flood of emotional attack.
They came close
ghostly hands reaching for her chest,
each one trying to stab her with accusation and regret.
But the moment they touched the golden light radiating from her body,
they shattered into flakes of black light.
From the ground beneath her feet, where the shards landed
sprouts began to grow.
Not corn.
But tiny heart-shaped sprouts, just like the golden heart-fruits that once bloomed in her cornfield.
"SHE'S TURNING REGRET INTO CREATION!"
cried the butterfly tattoo, voice filled with awe.
"THE 80TH CHOICE: TO BUILD FROM LOSS!"
Ye Lin's new field bloomed with heart-shaped sprouts, each one glowing with a soft, inner light.
The fading illusions around her flickered no longer sustained by accusation or grief.
Their voices, once sharp with blame, dulled into strange whispers of contentment.
"What's happening?" Ye Lin asked, confused, watching the sprouts sway gently.
A different kind of energy flowed into her inner world now—
not hers, but something that felt like memories nonetheless.
The small shadow leapt onto one of the heart sprouts, touching it with a translucent finger.
"You're not just purifying anymore," it said.
"You're transforming.
You're taking the negative emotions they tried to feed you… and turning them into fuel for your world."
The butterfly tattoo vibrated on her arm, pulsing with a rare bluish light.
"THIS IS YOUR GIFT AS A TRUE GUARDIAN.
TO TAKE LOST FRAGMENTS OF THE WORLD…
AND REWEAVE THEM INTO YOUR OWN REALITY."
The final illusion of her mother dissolved
not with a scream, but with a sigh of relief.
The black threads pulling her upward became visible now,
connected to a wider dimensional rift in the sky.
And from that fracture… Ye Lin felt it.
A presence.
Not the Collector
but something far older.
Far deeper.
"He knows," Ye Lin said, staring up into the crack.
"He knows I've changed."
The small shadow nodded.
"And he doesn't like it.
He wants fragmented Guardians.
Ones he can control.
Not one who dares carve her own path."
Suddenly, the ground beneath her shook.
Not from attack
but from growth.
The heart sprouts began to shoot upward,
their stalks thickening,
their tips blooming into larger heart-fruits, glowing warmly.
"YOUR INNER WORLD IS GROWING!"
the butterfly tattoo shouted, voice alive with rare joy.
"GUARDIAN—YOU ARE A SOURCE OF NEW LIFE!"
In the Real World:
At the ruins of the Venomous Leaf Sect,
the child who had once touched the glass flower felt his heartbeat shift.
The golden glow in his eyes shimmered
and all around him, the dry, cracked earth began to bloom with glass-heart flowers,
each pulsing with a golden inner light.
Back in Ye Lin's inner world,
she felt the thread of connection stretch far beyond the sky.
She was no longer just a witness.
She was a bridge.
"What comes next?" she asked, gazing over the newly formed heartfield.
The small shadow smiled, its face now calm and centered.
"Next…
We face the Collector.
And we take back what's ours."
From the depths of her world,
her wooden hut began to pulse—alive.
Inside it, the once-faded family photo now glowed softly.
Within it, Ye Lin saw her mother smiling,
not with eerie illusion,
but with genuine warmth in her eyes.
A true memory, finally anchored in her created world.
Ye Lin knew
The real battle had only just begun.
But this time…
she wasn't alone.
She had a world.
She had memories.
And she had made a promise
to create her own fate.
The heartfield surrounding her pulsed with a strange, sweet scent,
as if each fruit held purified emotional essence.
Above, the dark-blue sky shimmered with golden stars,
not illusions
but living points of light.
"Is this... my world?" Ye Lin whispered, walking among the heart plants.
It felt nothing like the golden cornfield that once posed as paradise.
This felt real.
Hers.
The small shadow skipped between sprouts.
"This is the core of your Creator's Soul, Lin'er.
You're not just purifying emotions
you're transforming fragmented soul shards from the cycle…
into fuel for your world."
The butterfly tattoo on her arm pulsed in agreement, its hum warm and resonant.
"THIS IS YOUR FOUNDATION.
YOU'VE FOUND A WAY TO RECLAIM WHAT WAS STOLEN."
Ye Lin could feel the pulse of every heartfruit
as if they were extensions of her body.
In the distance,
the edge of her world trembled.
From the crack in the sky, something new emerged
Not illusions of her village.
But structures—alien and ancient
made of bone and shadow.
"What is that?" Ye Lin asked, eyes narrowing.
"The gate to the Collector's domain," the small shadow replied, its voice solemn.
"He feels your transformation.
He knows you're no longer a Guardian he can control."
From the gaps in the bone architecture,
new entities slithered through.
Not shadow hands.
But slender forms, forged from solid shadow,
eyes glowing like cold stars.
In their hands—weapons forged from black crystal.
"THE GUARDIANS OF ORDER!"
the butterfly tattoo cried out.
"THE COLLECTOR'S ELITE!
GUARDIAN SOULS COMPLETELY ASSIMILATED AND FORGED INTO HIS TOOLS!"
Ye Lin felt a wave of cold sweep over her as the Guardians of Order step forward from the dimensional rift. They moved without a sound, like ghosts, each step leaving frost upon the freshly formed soil of her world. There were dozens, each holding sword or spear forged from deep black crystal.
"They have no emotion," the small shadow whispered, trembling.
"They are emptiness walking. Their memories have been completely drained."
Ye Lin clenched the bone knife in her hand. It felt warm, radiating a soothing golden glow. She looked at her heartfield around her, feeling a strong connection. She knew she couldn't let them taint her world.
"If they are empty," Ye Lin said, her red eyes burning with resolve,
"then I will fill them."
She stepped forward—not running, but walking calmly toward the shadow army. The butterfly tattoo on her arm glowed brighter, and metallic butterfly wings sprouted on her back—no longer fragile or rusty, but shining with silver-gold light.
"HOW DARING YOU ARE!" one of the Guardians of Order screamed. His voice cracked like shattering ice, betraying a faint shred of suppressed emotion.
They attacked in unison—black crystal blades flew straight at Ye Lin.
Ye Lin did not dodge. She lifted her other hand, where the golden corn seed pulsed. From it, tendrils of golden light shot out—not to strike, but to touch the black blades.
The moment the light touched them, the swords did not shatter. Instead, the black crystal began to glow faintly, and from their surfaces, faint memories appeared: a child playing under the sun, an elderly woman knitting, a warrior raising a sword for the first time. These were the memory fragments drained and turned into part of their weapons.
The Guardians of Order recoiled. They didn't scream, but a strange tremor ran through their shadowy forms. Their movements slowed.
"I will not destroy you," Ye Lin said, her voice echoing across the heartfield.
"I will set you free."
She leapt into the midst of them. Her iron-wings flapped—not as a weapon, but as a shield radiating golden waves. Each pulse struck a Guardian. Their shadows flickered, and clearer memory strands rose from their weapons, drifting into the air.
Those liberated memories—meant to vanish—were absorbed by the heart sprouts under Ye Lin's feet, strengthening her field further. Her power was no longer about absorbing Qi or destruction—it was about reconstructing souls from lost fragments.
"THIS IS A NEW LAW!" the butterfly tattoo declared.
"YOU TAKE WHAT WAS LOST AND RETURN IT!"
The battle became less of a fight and more of a strange liberation ritual. Guardians once robotic and soulless began showing confusion, even fear, as their memories resurfaced and were consumed by Ye Lin's heartfield. Some tried to retreat, but the bone-architecture behind them pulsed, halting their escape.
"He trapped them," the small shadow murmured.
"The Collector locked them in emptiness so no one could resurrect their memories."
Ye Lin felt new energy flow into her from each absorbed memory fragment. It wasn't Qi—it was something subtler, more intimate: the essence of forgotten existence. Her face, once aged, began to rejuvenate slightly. Her white hair now carried a faint golden sheen.
The closest Guardian of Order suddenly dropped his black crystal weapon. His shadow flickered erratically, and from within his chest emerged a small golden corn seed, throbbing softly.
"A seed… of life…" the entity whispered weakly, in a broken voice. Not emotionless, but of someone newly awakened from a long sleep.
But before Ye Lin could reach him, thicker, darker shadow threads sprouted from the bone architecture in the sky. They seized the newly awakened Guardian. He cried out this time with genuine pain—pulled back toward the dimensional rift.
"He… won't let them be free!" screamed the butterfly tattoo.
"Don't let him take it!" The small shadow leapt forward, firing golden light from its palms, trying to sever the threads. But there were too many.
Ye Lin watched the golden seed fall to the earth. She knew she had to save it. It was a true soul fragment—not a mere memory.
With newfound speed, Ye Lin dashed. The other Guardians attacked her. Her body now emanated golden light, and every strike only fed her—attacks absorbed and turned into more memories that flowed into her heartfield.
She seized the golden seed on the ground. Its warmth was familiar—it was the Guardian's core essence—the same as the small shadow's.
"You will not take this!" Ye Lin roared, eyes fixed on the closing dimensional rift.
But from within it came a voice—cold, flat, yet charged with blazing anger:
"THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING, NEW GUARDIAN. YOU HAVE JUST PIQUED MY INTEREST."
With a resounding crack, the rift closed, leaving Ye Lin alone in her glowing heartfield. She held the golden seed of the Guardian she had saved. It felt cold, but pulsed with unmistakable life.
The small shadow approached, its eyes absorbed in the seed.
"That is their core essence," it said.
"Part of a Guardian Soul not yet fully corrupted."
"What will happen to them?" Ye Lin asked, her voice trembling. She imagined the Guardian being returned to emptiness—punished for bearing a sliver of identity.
"They will be purified again," the butterfly tattoo responded, its tone somber.
"The Collector is an expert at extinguishing sparks of soul."
Ye Lin gazed at her heartfield. New sprouts had grown from every transformed illusion. The land had expanded, exuding deeper aromas. It was proof of her power—and a reminder of the burden she carried.
"We can't let this happen again," Ye Lin said.
"There must be a way to stop the Collector."
The small shadow hopped onto her shoulder, pointing at the wooden hut.
"We have to learn more.
Your power has grown, Lin'er, but your knowledge is still limited.
There might be something in the 'true memory' you just built."
Ye Lin walked back to the hut. On the wall, the seventy-nine portraits—now blank looked like empty canvases awaiting new filler. She touched one. Energy flowed through her—not pain this time, but information: faint fragments from the history of former Boundary Guardians, now part of her world.
She saw glimpses: battles in other realms, ancient subterranean rituals, cloaked figures commanding shadow armies. Familiar yet foreign.
"These are not just my memories," Ye Lin whispered.
"These are the memories of fallen Guardians manipulated by the Collector. They're trying to send me a message."
The butterfly tattoo glowed.
"THEY ARE YOUR RESURRECTION.
FAILED GUARDIANS YOU ARE FREEING."
Ye Lin realized she carried a new burden. She wasn't fighting just for herself—but for every fallen Guardian. Each purified memory strengthened her world—and freed a trapped soul.
She stared at the golden seed in her hand. It pulsed, begging to be planted.
"If this seed is the essence of their soul," Ye Lin said,
"then I will plant it here. In my world.
They will become part of this field—and part of my new power."
She dug a small hole near the glowing family photo on the wall—now luminous with life. She planted the seed and covered it with rich earth.
As the seed touched dirt, a powerful tremor shook Ye Lin's inner world. Her surrounding heartfield pulsed in unison. From the planted spot, a new sprout sprang forth—larger and brighter than the rest. Its stalk translucent, with golden light pulsing like a heart inside.
The sprout grew rapidly, piercing the hut's ceiling and soaring upward into the dark-blue sky. Golden branches extended, each budding a transparent heart fruit. Yet these fruits were special—inside each, Ye Lin saw faint shadows of different faces—those of the Guardians she had rescued.
"They have been reborn," the small shadow whispered, its gaze fixed on the sprout.
"Not as slaves to the Collector, but as part of your world."
The butterfly tattoo let out a low hum.
"YOU ARE THEIR NEW FATE MASTER.
THIS IS YOUR NEW DUTY."
Ye Lin felt a wave of power flood over her. With every heartbeat of those transparent heart-fruits, she felt connected to the freed soul essences. She was no longer merely a survivor—she was an architect of souls.
Yet amid this rebirth, a distant voice pierced her consciousness. Not the Collector's voice—but something older, wiser, full of deep sorrow.
"New Guardian… you have awakened what should have remained asleep…"
The voice came from deep within Ye Lin's inner world—from a place beyond even her hut's reach. From beneath the ground.
Around the massive sprout, the rich earth began to crack. Not destructive cracks—but those of revelation. From below, ancient structures emerged—pillars made of luminous roots, supporting Ye Lin's entire world.
"[WORLD ROOTS!]" the butterfly tattoo cried—filled with fear.
"THIS IS THE PRIMAL CORE OF HER INNER WORLD!
THE FOUNDATION ONCE GUARDED BY THE FIRST GUARDIAN!"
The luminous root-pillar pulsed with archaic aura. Intricate engravings glowed on its surface—telling tales unknown to Ye Lin: primordial god battles, forgotten pacts, and a colossal entity sleeping beneath the earth, binding all reality.
"This is not the Collector's doing," the small shadow whispered, its face pale.
"It is older than him. It is… the heart of the cycle itself."
From a crack in the root-pillar, a giant eye opened. Not menacing—but exhausted, filled with immeasurable sorrow.
"Finally… someone has come to see me…" the voice echoed, shaking every atom within Ye Lin's world.
Ye Lin realized she had just opened a Pandora's box much older than she'd ever imagined.
The real battle was not just against the Collector—but against the roots of the cycle itself: a primordial force hidden beneath her world.