The ground snake, seeing Qi Xia’s composed expression, naturally didn’t look pleased.
When he noticed Qi Xia extending his hand, he was visibly irritated: “What trick did you just pull?”
“I didn’t move at all,” Qi Xia replied. “You do make me curious—can you really control emotions just by touching someone?”
Not only Qi Xia, but even the ground snake felt something was off.
He had made direct contact with Qi Xia, yet the three people behind Qi Xia’s palm were affected, while Qi Xia himself remained untouched.
He *should* have felt even deeper sorrow than the others.
The ground snake took a step forward and grasped Qi Xia’s hand.
The two of them stood there, holding hands like businessmen sealing a successful negotiation.
“Are you just putting on a tough act?” the ground snake asked. “If we keep holding hands any longer, you might end up sitting on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Don’t blame me if you embarrass yourself.”
“I’d actually love to see that version of myself,” Qi Xia said. “How long do we need to hold hands?”
A few seconds later, the ground snake clearly sensed the problem.
It felt like he was gripping a dead tree—not only could he not transmit sorrow, but he couldn’t even detect any emotion from the other side.
“What’s going on…?” the ground snake muttered in disbelief. “You weren’t like this before…”
“If ‘sorrow’ doesn’t work, what about ‘joy’?” Qi Xia asked.
The ground snake shook his head helplessly. “Unfortunately, I can only manipulate grief.”
“Then turn up the intensity. Let me feel some sorrow,” Qi Xia said. “I’m not some ‘invincible shield’—why isn’t your ability working on me?”
“This doesn’t make sense…” the ground snake murmured, still gripping Qi Xia’s hand. “If you can’t feel ‘sorrow,’ then how…”
Qi Xia waited for him to continue, but the ground snake suddenly fell silent.
He withdrew his pale, snake-scaled hand, pondered for a moment, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Qi Xia in a tight embrace.
Qi Xia visibly recoiled at the gesture, but before he could retreat, the overwhelming force of the grip locked him in place.
Before he could speak, a sharp pain flared deep in his mind—a sensation he had experienced countless times in this place.
Qi Xia slowly furrowed his brow. Despite the headache, he still felt no sorrow.
After a long pause, the ground snake finally released him, staring at Qi Xia with utter disbelief.
“If it were the old you, after that much contact… you’d be bawling your eyes out by now,” the ground snake said. “What the hell happened to you?”
“So that’s how it is,” Qi Xia nodded. “It seems you were once very important to me—since I needed sorrow.”
“Of course you needed ‘sorrow’!!” the ground snake snapped, reaching out to flick Qi Xia’s hair. “And what was that force just now? What did you do to yourself?”
“To put it simply, the amygdala, hippocampus, thalamus, and hypothalamus in my brain—the parts that process grief—are all damaged to varying degrees,” Qi Xia explained. “This damage just so happened to erase my ability to feel ‘sorrow.’ Even if the most important person in my life died right in front of me, I wouldn’t feel a thing.”
“Damaged…?”
With that simple statement, everyone in the room except Qi Xia was left bewildered.
The “Land of the End” was fundamentally different from the real world. No matter how many years passed, healthy people here never fell ill, and those already sick couldn’t expect to recover.
The moment you entered this place, your condition was sealed in permanence.
“How did you get like this?” the ground snake demanded.
Qi Xia smiled faintly at the question. “Unfortunately, I’m in a bad mood. I don’t feel like telling you.”
“You—!” The ground snake visibly seethed, but beneath the anger was something else—something almost like concern. “Qi Xia… you damn brat… you *rotten bastard*… How could you end up with this kind of illness? How is it even possible to get sick here?!”
“Why not?” Qi Xia countered. “Maybe I just let it happen on a whim.”
The ground snake stewed for a long moment before replying, “Fine. I won’t ask how you got sick. But without ‘sorrow,’ how is the ‘Great Bell’ outside supposed to ring for you?”
“No, you’ve got it wrong,” Qi Xia said. “A person with strong conviction will inevitably make the Great Bell tremble for them. But there are many ways to set it in motion. I’ve blocked one path, but I can still take others.”
“What?”
“Haven’t you ever felt this way?” Qi Xia asked. “Everyone here claims they want to see the sunrise from the mountaintop, but they end up distracted by the river at the base and miss their chance. If I want to reach that summit, I’ll spend decades draining that river dry—ensuring nothing distracts me. That way, if I want to see the ‘view,’ my only option will be the ‘peak.’”
Though Qi Xia didn’t spell it out, the ground snake understood his meaning.
He had sealed off his own “echo” trigger to pursue an even greater one.
“You *rotten bastard*…” the ground snake muttered. “Who told you the river at the foot wasn’t worth seeing? That river is right there—anyone can see it every day. But how many people get to witness the sunrise from the peak? You’re trading the sure thing for a gamble! What if you… die chasing that view?!”
“How can the sight of a river compare to the grandeur of the summit?” Qi Xia slowly rose to his feet. “If I had to guess, you’re the ‘ferryman’ of that river, aren’t you?”
“I—”
“For a long time, you were the one who ferried me straight to that river. And I won’t deny—you saved me a lot of trouble,” Qi Xia said. “But you’ve been away from the river too long. I’ve drained it dry.”
“Then what the hell do you want from me, you bastard?” The ground snake stood as well. “I know how to get you to that river faster than anyone! One touch from me, and you’d see the view! But instead, you insist on climbing the damn mountain—so now I’m supposed to become a ‘mountain porter’?!”
“No,” Qi Xia shook his head. “You’ve been an excellent ‘ferryman.’ Now, I’m inviting you to come up the mountain with me and see the view for yourself.”
Everyone waited for the ground snake’s response, but instead, he turned away and picked up a rope. “Sorry, I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. I think I’ll go hang myself first.”
“Sounds great!” Chen Junan sprang to his feet. “Hanging’s perfect! I’ll help you out—doing it alone must be exhausting!”
Afraid the man might change his mind, he immediately grabbed the ground snake’s arm.
A few seconds later, Chen Junan slowly turned back, tears in his eyes. “I’m so useless…”
Qiao Jiajin sensed trouble and rushed to pull Chen Junan away. “Junanzai! You’ve been hit! Don’t touch him!”
But before he could separate them, he too turned back with a sigh. “I’ve failed Brother Guan…”
Watching the two of them, Qi Xia and Qin Dingdong exchanged exasperated looks.
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