For all his scheming, his manipulation, his absurd ability to twist the world to his will, Atlas had always been there. He had made people laugh, had dragged them into the chaos of his plans and somehow, some way, always made things work. He had built something out of nothing—saved people who had no one, given second chances where there were none to be found.
And now, he was gone.
Layla's throat tightened. Queens didn't cry. But the rain on her cheeks mixed with something warm, something bitter. Her hand clenched over her knee, fingers digging into her skin.
Atlas was many things. A liar, a swindler, an opportunist.
But he made the world brighter.
And now it felt unbearably dim.
Lin Wuye walked forward in slow, unsteady steps, his hands trembling at his sides. He had seen many deaths before. Too many.
But never had he expected to see Atlas lying still, lifeless.
His mind reeled back to all the times Atlas had somehow turned the impossible into reality. He had taken in Lianhua, a slave girl, and instead of using her, he set her free and how happy she is at Shrouded Peaks. His company had revived Silver Lotus from the brink of collapse with the help of Meilin, turning it into a thriving sect with a steady income. He had shared his food with disciples, laughed alongside them, and pushed them toward a better future.
And now, the man behind it all—the driving force of the impossible—was gone?
Yuxe Wuye collapsed beside her husband, clutching his arm as she looked down at the boy who had somehow carved a place in all their lives. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
Jiang and Bao approached next, their faces unreadable—except for the raw emotion brimming in their eyes. Bao clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles, it hurt him. Jiang's grip tightening on his sword until his hand bled.
Zhao Lihua knelt beside Layla, reaching out, hesitating before her fingers barely brushed against Atlas's cooling hand. She had fought so many battles, yet in this moment, she felt utterly powerless.
The Ryl Trading workers, those who had bled for Atlas's vision, stood behind them. Some wept openly, others bowed their heads, whispering silent prayers, disbelieving.
And Kai—
Kai took the longest to step forward. His small frame shook as he looked at Atlas, his mentor, his saviour—the man who had given him a home.
His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. No sound. Just silent, gut-wrenching pain.
Meyu refused to stop. Her hands pressed down over and over, her arms shaking, her breath ragged.
"Come on, ATLAS!" she screamed, forcing another compression.
"You don't get to leave me like this!"
Layla, still catching her breath, stumbled forward. Her voice was tight, strained. "Meyu… stop."
"No!" Meyu snapped, eyes wild.
"I'm not stopping! I can't—he's still—he's still in there! He has to be!"
Tears mixed with the rain running down her face as she bent down, pressing her ear to Atlas' chest once more.
Silence.
Thump.
A beat so silent, it couldn't have been him.
Was that a heartbeat? Or just the echo of her own desperation?
Her eyes widened.
"Atlas has a heartbeat!" she shouted, her voice cracking with desperation and relief.
Layla, who had been about to pull her away, stiffened. Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees beside Meyu, pressing her own ear against Atlas' chest.
Was it there?
Thump.
Is that even real? Am I just hearing things because I refuse? No no, we will take whatever fucking chance we have now.
Her hand clenched into a fist as she wiped at her eyes, mixing rain with her tears. She had no time to process the emotions clawing at her chest. Her voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
"Everyone, capture the remaining Shengong members! Linghu has been defeated!"
Her gaze shot toward her parents, filled with rare urgency.
"Father, Mother—keep Atlas alive. Somehow. Anyway you can. Please! He still has a heartbeat."
The battlefield, once drowning in despair, changed. The warriors of Silver Lotus and Ryl Trading, who had been frozen in grief, began to regain their composure. Weapons were raised, the injured found new strength, and those still standing turned their attention to the remaining Shengong forces.
The war was not over, but the tide had shifted.
The aftermath of war settled like a suffocating weight over Silver Lotus. The rain kept pouring leaving behind a battlefield soaked in blood and sorrow.
Jiang approached Layla, his steps slow and deliberate, each movement weighed down by exhaustion and grief. His face was pale, streaked with dirt and dried blood, his eyes hollow as though he carried the souls of the dead within him. He hesitated before speaking, as if the words themselves were too heavy to form.
"From Silver Lotus," he began, his voice hoarse and brittle, "fifteen are dead."
A pause, just long enough for the number to sink in. Then, quieter, almost reluctantly, he added,
"That includes Elder Jian Bo. He gave his life... to protect Zhu Fen."
Layla's fingers tightened into a fist so hard her palm bled a little.
Fifteen.
Each number carved into her soul like a brand. Not just numbers—names. Faces.
Disciples who had trusted me, followed me, believed in my leadership and now they are gone. Because of me.
Every single one of them bore her failure like a scar she could never erase.
But Jiang wasn't finished. His next words came slower, heavier, as though he dreaded delivering them.
"Shengong lost three hundred." Another pause, longer this time, as if he needed to brace himself.
"A hundred more have been captured alive."
Layla barely registered the figures. They blurred together, meaningless against the crushing guilt already lodged in her chest. But then Jiang spoke again, his voice dropping lower, almost apologetic.
"Ryl Trading had casualties as well.." he said.
"Twenty dead."
Every breath she took was sharp and painful, like a blade slicing through her ribs.
Twenty. Workers. Not cultivators. Not warriors. Just ordinary people—men and women who had followed Atlas' insane schemes, who had believed in his vision, who had fought because they had no other choice. People who hadn't asked for any of this.
Their deaths felt crueler somehow, more senseless.
They hadn't signed up for war. Yet here they were, lying cold and still among the ruins of a battle they shouldn't have been part of.
A soft sob broke the oppressive silence, raw and sad.
Zhu Fen knelt beside Jian Bo's fallen body, his small hands clutching at the elder's robes as if trying to pull him back from the abyss.
Tears streamed down his dirt-streaked face, carving paths through the grime, but they did nothing to wash away the anguish etched into his features. His shoulders shook with every ragged breath, his voice trembling as he whispered to the corpse before him.
"He was supposed to scold me for my footwork again!" Zhu Fen choked out, his words barely audible over the sound of his own sobs.
"He was supposed to keep calling me a reckless brat. He—" His voice cracked under the weight of his grief, dissolving into a guttural cry that tore at the hearts of those nearby.
No one moved to comfort him. What could they say? There were no words left that mattered.
This was the price of war. Senseless. Merciless. Irreversible.
In the dim light of the infirmary, Meyu sat beside Atlas's bed, her head resting on the edge of the mattress. Her fingers twitched occasionally, as though trying to reach out and touch him but pulling back at the last second.
She stared at his pale face, willing him to open his eyes, to smirk, to say something—anything—that would prove he was still in there.
But he didn't move.
Meyu's thoughts spiraled endlessly, replaying every memory she had of Atlas. The auction house where he bought her freedom. The nights they spent starving together, sharing scraps of bread. The countless times he infuriated her with his arrogance, only to surprise her with his kindness.
"I should've protected you." she whispered, her voice breaking.
"I promised myself I'd keep you safe."
But deep down, she knew the truth. Atlas had always been the one protecting her.
Even now, as he lay unconscious, his absence loomed larger than his presence ever had.
"You say no one knows you." Meyu muttered under her breath, clutching Atlas's hand tightly.
"But every time you look at me, I wonder if you knew how I felt. I wonder if you love me just as much as I do. Do you know how much I love you? Do you know many times I crave for your touch? Your voice that was as annoying as I love it. I'm so so sorry Atlas..."
She leaned closer, her lips quivering and her voice filled with so much sadness and regret could barely make a sound.
"Maybe I should've been more honest with myself."
She gripped his lifeless hands and putting over her lips with tears flowing down.
"Please come back my love. I don't want to live in a world without you"
Faced with the possibility of losing him forever, she wondered if keeping it to herself was the only regret she will carry.