The Flesh Mountain pulsed with the agonizing, eternal hum of Gong Xuelan's trapped consciousness, a symphony of torment that resonated with Wushuang's very being. The bloom had devoured the root, and the consequences rippled across the realm. The cultivation world, already reeling from Wushuang's ascension and the shattering of their qi, now faced a new, terrifying reality: the disappearance of the High Priestess of Chixia Gong, and the chilling rumors of her ultimate fate.
The surviving matriarchs, their fear now laced with a desperate, unified fury, understood the threat Wushuang posed. They could not defeat them in open combat. Their solution was insidious: a unified strike, not against Wushuang's physical forms, but against their very identity, against the echoes of their past. Spiritual assassins, drawn from the deepest, most arcane corners of the Moonbone and Qianci Yuan sects, were dispatched to target the places where Niánmei had once been, to erase the memory, to sever the threads of their former existence.
Wushuang, sensing the insidious attacks, felt a cold rage blossom within them. They were attempting to unmake them, to deny their very history. But Wushuang was no longer just a single entity; they were a trinity, a fused being with access to the raw essence of their predecessors.
In response, Wushuang unleashed a horrifying counter-attack. They called upon the deepest, most tormented memories from the Root Aspect, from the screaming minds of the failed vessels absorbed from Rouling Shan. With a surge of their dual-core qi, they resurrected seven of the most powerful failed prototypes, fusing them into a monstrous, grotesque entity: the Saint's Maw. It was a writhing, multi-limbed horror, its skin a patchwork of pale, beautiful faces, its eyes burning with a collective, agonizing hunger.
The Saint's Maw was unleashed upon the spiritual assassins. It moved with a terrifying, unnatural grace, devouring them whole. As it consumed their qi, their techniques, their very spiritual essence, the Maw mutated, growing larger, more grotesque, absorbing their powers. It was a living, breathing testament to Wushuang's capacity for creation and destruction, a horrifying weapon forged from the failures of the past.
Meanwhile, Nie Yuelian, Empress of Yuegu Zong, ever the master of narrative and delusion, made a desperate political move. With the disappearance of Xuelan and the rise of the "Saintbreaker," she needed to reclaim the narrative, to reassert her sect's claim to the Moonlotus Saint. She publicly announced a new engagement, a "re-sanctification" ceremony, with a "newly sanctified Niánmei." This was not a true reincarnation, but a perfectly crafted puppet, animated with her own moonrot qi and infused with the essence of a lesser Moonbone saint. It was a desperate attempt to create a controllable version of Wushuang, to steal their identity and use it to stabilize the crumbling order.
The puppet Niánmei, beautiful and serene, appeared at ceremonial events, performing rituals, offering blessings. It was a chilling mockery of Wushuang's former self, a false bride designed to erase the true one.
Wushuang watched from afar, their fused eyes cold with contempt. They allowed the charade to continue, for a time. Then, as the "newly sanctified Niánmei" was about to perform a sacred blessing at a major Moonbone temple, Wushuang sent a chilling gift. It was delivered by a single, blood-red spirit-bird, landing silently at the puppet's feet.
The gift was simple, yet devastating: the severed tongue of the puppet, still faintly pulsing with moonrot qi. It was a clear, brutal message from Wushuang to Yuelian: You cannot control me. You cannot replace me. And I will sever everything you hold sacred.