Chapter 83: Mo Yi’s Wager

 

Meng Ruji and Mu Sui were swept into the Nai River like grains of sand in the wind. Watching their figures vanish, Mo Yi immediately understood Mo Li’s intent. Her gaze fell upon him—standing firm, shielding Madam Lin behind him.

Mo Yi’s expression remained unreadable. She lowered her eyes, contemplated briefly, then spoke:
“Very well.”

A streak of black malice followed the two figures into the river. Mo Li saw it, powerless to stop.

“You sent them to the Nai River,” Mo Yi said evenly. “Perfect. Qianshan Jun will relive his past hatred, and Miss Meng will witness the war between immortals and gods.”

Mo Li’s fists clenched. “What did you do?”

“The Nai River water naturally carries memories. I merely made them clearer.” She paused, then looked directly at him. “You always liked wagers—on rain, on lakes, even on fate itself. Why not bet again today?”

Mo Li’s smile was bitter, but resolute. “Alright. What’s the wager?”

“That Qianshan Jun can bring Miss Meng out alive. But after seeing the past, they will never return unchanged. Miss Meng will doubt him, and he will never escape his past.”

“Betting on human hearts…” Mo Li’s voice darkened. “Mo Yi, this is an open conspiracy.”

“Don’t dare to bet?” she asked.

Mist rose around them. Mo Li’s voice was firm:
“I’ll bet. I still believe fate can be changed.”

His conviction silenced even Mo Yi. For a moment, her lips curved faintly, dissolving the coldness in her face.
“You haven’t changed,” she murmured.

“Mo Yi.” His hope surged. “There’s still time. Let’s try again. Perhaps we don’t need to reach the final step…”

But she shook her head.
“I told you—I am clear‑headed. This path is mine. It has nothing to do with fate.”

Mo Li stepped forward, pleading:
“Do you remember when we first came here? I built a stone statue for you, vowed to worship you, to stay with you. Do you remember what you said?”

“I said…” Mo Yi’s voice was steady, recalling without hesitation. “Ascension made me half‑dead in the mortal world. The other half lived because… you held onto me.”

Mo Li’s eyes wavered. He reached out. “I haven’t given up. Will you let me pull you back once more?”

Her black pupils reflected him like a mirror. Then—firelight burst behind him.

Mo Li turned in shock. Beneath Madam Lin, a flame formation blazed. She sat calmly at its center, eyes trembling with emotion, gazing at Mo Yi.

This time, Mo Yi truly intended to sever her final obsession.

Madam Lin’s tears fell, but Mo Yi’s did not.

“Mo Yi!” Mo Li lunged, but black malice bound him, forcing him to sit and watch.

Madam Lin’s figure dissolved into ash. Her sigh lingered:
“I had a good child but failed to be a good mother. My apology has been heard. I have no regrets.”

Ash drifted into the Nai River, carried away. Mo Yi’s face remained indifferent. Only when the flames faded did she whisper:
“Next… let’s await the outcome of our wager.”

She sat across from Mo Li, lifted Madam Lin’s teapot. The handle broke, spilling tea. Gathering fragments, she froze—inside one piece were carved five hidden characters: To Mother, Little Yi.

It was the teapot she had made as a child. Madam Lin had known all along.

A droplet fell onto the table. Mo Yi touched her cheek. She was crying.

For years she had forgotten human emotion. Now, tears puzzled her. Mechanically, she wiped them away.

Across from her, Mo Li wept openly.
“Mo Yi… the human you is calling for help. How can you not hear?”

But Mo Yi’s voice was cold:
“I no longer need anyone or anything to hold onto me.”

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