Dyon’s eyes became blank, as though he was completely soulless. His mind was still there, and his thoughts still moved… But he seemed… Completely empty.
The shattering of one’s dao heart occurs either due to a direct or indirect questioning of one’s dao path. Whatever it was that Dyon saw within his black flames not only made him question himself, but even reached the point of questioning all of existence itself.
He couldn’t understand what the point of it all was. Why did we all exist if it just ended in this way? Where was the purpose? What should drive us?
Shockingly, despite his dao heart shattering to pieces, the dao array formed within Dyon’s inner world only slightly trembled in response, as though its existence was far beyond imagining, as though it no longer needed Dyon’s comprehension to continue existing…
However, Dyon’s other wills began to slowly crumble… His weakest were the first to go, dissipating into nothingness… His time will shriveled, its small kernel of comprehension withering away… His wind will that had only just been on the cusp of the intent realm shrunk in on itself… His demonic will shattered and his comprehension of the [Demon Emperor’s Will] technique regressed to being unworthy of even the first stage of the first act…
His crystal will disappeared. His music will faded. His space will caved in on itself. Even his weapon’s master will, the representation of absolute confidence had no arrogance to hold on to, scattering into the wind.
The rate of dissipation for his death will was much slower, seemingly anchored by his overwhelmingly strong soul due to the fact it had entered the one with soul realm… However, although it was slow, it was still steadily weakening…
It really did seem that when someone was suffused with dark days, they completely forgot the good.
Just the same way Dyon touched the gate of the dao with his black flames, he did the exact same with his white flames. Yet, it seemed the comprehension given by the black flames had completely taken over, making Dyon completely ignore his yin.
Still, the fact that Dyon had survived such a devastating shattering of his dao was astounding in and of itself. Under normal circumstances, when one faces the destruction of such a strong dao, the soul would dissipate. But, Dyon’s soul didn’t even seem to notice that anything was wrong, continuing to suck on its thumb and gurgle, completely oblivious to the happenings around it.
It was only now that the spirits were finally released from their invisible chains. But, it was too little too late…
Esmeralda was racked with guilt. ‘If he had more accumulation, more life experience, this wouldn’t have happened like this. All he knows is fighting and trials, he hasn’t experienced what life is, how can he combat something like this?’
Maybe in the mortal world, Dyon would be an adult at already 30 years old. But, in the martial world, he was nothing more than an infant. In a world where even a foundation stage expert could live a thousand years, what did 30 years count for?
There was a reason the heavens gave creatures so much time to cultivate. It takes time to accumulate wisdom and comprehension… It takes time to build an impenetrable dao heart. And, even then, it can crumble given enough time…
This wasn’t even the worst of it. Dyon hadn’t spent 30 years living life. He spent half of his life in a trial, fighting for his life. He spent nearly another three to five years unconscious. He even spent his childhood locked up in a room filled with computer screens, hiding away from the truth of his dead parents.
All Dyon knew was fighting and pain. Even his wives, the small blips of happiness in his life, were exactly that, small blips. The amount of time they had to make an impact on him, to show him that there was something beyond the pain, was minimal…
So, when this young man who knew nothing of the reality of life was suddenly faced with an unshakeable comprehension “gifted” to him by his heaven defying talent, how could he have the will to refute it? How could he give the good a chance when in his experience, there was so little of it?
Dyon’s finger flashed, causing the Dragon King to appear on his wrist, wrapped around in a slick, long band.
The metal body shifted, turning into a slender knife so sharp that its edges were the only portions of its light absorbing body that reflected anything.
Dyon’s hands trembled, clutching the knife with his whole strength. “I shouldn’t exist…”
Before anyone could even realize what happened, Dyon had plunged the knife into his heart.
Blood spurted out from his wound, however, judging by his lack of a reaction, one would think that the crimson stream wasn’t his own.
Esmeralda trembled. Even if she had come out, what could she have done? Would Dyon have even listened to her? No matter how much she yelled and pleaded, Dyon couldn’t seem to hear her.
The hopes of the spirits dimmed. Not only were they saddened by Dyon’s end, but Dyon’s death also symbolized their own. Without his soul energy supporting them, they would have long since dissipated.
Now the young man they had placed all of their hopes in had plunged a knife into his own heart, seeking to take his own life.