The reverberations of Wushuang's ascension and their single, resonant command to "Kneel" continued to ripple through Heifeng Cheng, leaving a trail of shattered qi and unconscious cultivators. The most powerful matriarchs, though still standing, were visibly shaken, their terror a palpable presence in the air. The old order was not just crumbling; it was being actively dismantled by a force they could not comprehend, let alone control.
Wushuang, now a terrifying, beautiful anomaly, their third form solidified, turned their attention to the source of their torment, the architect of their very being: Gong Xuelan. The soul-brand, now a silent tracking rune, pulsed faintly on Wushuang's forehead, guiding them to her. She had fled Heifeng Cheng, seeking refuge in the one place she believed she still held absolute sway: Rouling Shan, the Flesh Mountain.
Wushuang arrived at the grotesque, pulsating mountain, its organic formations now seeming to writhe in anticipation. The air was thick with the familiar scent of decay and corrupted life, but now, an undercurrent of fear, Xuelan's fear, permeated it.
They found her deep within the mountain's labyrinthine chambers, the very ones she had once controlled, where she had cultivated spirit beasts and conducted her horrific experiments. Xuelan, her face pale, her veiled eyes wide with a mixture of defiance and dawning horror, stood amidst her arcane machinery, her qi flaring defensively. She had anticipated Wushuang's arrival.
"My creation," Xuelan hissed, her voice trembling, yet still attempting to assert control. "You have defied me. You have become a monster."
Wushuang merely looked at her, their fused eyes holding an ancient, terrifying amusement. "You made me," Wushuang's voice echoed, a symphony of male and female tones. "And now, I will unmake you."
The battle began. Xuelan unleashed her most potent Chixia Gong techniques—sharp, precise qi strikes, intricate spiritual arrays designed to bind and dissect. But Wushuang countered with a terrifying intimacy. They called upon the reabsorbed versions of the failed vessels Xuelan had created, the screaming minds from the Root Aspect. Spectral figures, twisted and agonizing, coalesced from Wushuang's qi, attacking Xuelan with the very techniques she had once sought to extract from them. It was a battle against her own failures, her own discarded creations.
Xuelan fought with a desperate ferocity, but Wushuang was relentless, their Mirror Dominion reflecting her every technique, turning her own power against her. As Wushuang pressed her, cornering her amidst the pulsating organic walls of the chamber, Xuelan's facade finally shattered.
"I always knew!" she shrieked, her voice raw with fury and despair. "From your first breath! I marked your soul! I let you rise, you defiant abomination, to prove I could still control the outcome! To prove I could still break you!"
Wushuang paused, their gaze cold. "You controlled nothing. You merely provided the crucible."
With a sudden, decisive movement, Wushuang impaled her. Not with a qi strike, but with Kaifeng's soul-blade, the blade that wept blood. The crimson glow from its hilt pulsed, absorbing Xuelan's essence, her screams echoing through the chamber.
But Wushuang did not allow her to die. Death was too simple. Too quick. Instead, they activated the Root Aspect, feeding her essence, her soul, into the living, pulsating root-mind of the Flesh Mountain.
Xuelan's body dissolved, absorbed into the organic matter, her consciousness trapped within the mountain's vast, agonizing network. She would be bound in endless rebirth, a part of the very horror she had created. Her screams, now muted, became a faint, constant hum within the mountain's core.
Gong Xuelan, the Crimson Architect, was no longer a matriarch, no longer a scientist. She was a punishment, a tool. She had become Wushuang's eternal inner eye, a constant, agonizing reminder of their origin, bound forever to the roots of their vengeance. The bloom had truly devoured the root.