Chapter 158: Sword Qi Like a Rainbow Severs a Thousand Years of Hatred

Shen Yan’s phone was still hot in his palm, the line of text reading “Twin-Star Resonance Mode” stabbing into his retina like a thorn. Before he could think it through, Ye Shi’er raised his hand and waved it, causing the shattered remains of the Mechanical Beast to suddenly convulse. Wrapped in black energy, they pieced themselves together into a circular battle formation, completely sealing off the Altar’s exit.

“You think you can leave?” Ye Shi’er sneered. “The monument is still here, the gate isn’t closed. Do you really think you can go?”

Before his words faded, Ye Zhao’s sword light flashed, aiming straight for his face. But the Blood Scythe merely swayed gently, drawing a ripple in the air like a Data Stream. Ye Zhao’s sword tip seemed to collide with an invisible Firewall, trembling violently as her entire arm went numb.

She retreated half a step, frowning tightly. “This Sword Intent… something’s wrong.”

Shen Yan immediately pulled up the Terminal Interface, his fingers swiping rapidly as he initiated the “Reverse Decompilation · Sword Intent Analysis Module.” A string of Code Structure instantly jumped onto the Screen—it was unmistakably the first spell Script he had written right after waking from the car accident: Basic Sword Flight v0.1.

“Damn it!” he cursed under his breath. “This guy’s combat Logic is actually an early, discarded Version of mine?”

What was even more bizarre was that this Code wasn’t merely imitated—it had been completely engraved into Ye Shi’er’s neural reflex chain. Every move, every stance, was a Program Playback.

Ye Zhao narrowed her eyes, then suddenly closed them. When she opened them again, a layer of silver-white light shimmered deep within her pupils—her Truth-Seeing Sword Eye was now active.

Staring intently at the trajectory of Ye Shi’er’s movements, she said coldly, “He’s repeating a Loop. It’s not swordplay—it’s a preset process. Someone wrote him a ‘revenge script.’”

Ye Shi’er’s gaze sharpened, as if he had sensed something. He swung the Blood Scythe horizontally, attempting to interrupt her observation. But Ye Zhao was prepared. She spun her body, her Sword Qi fine as silk, precisely cutting into the gaps between his moves, simulating the operating environment of that Code.

“Since you’re a Program, I’ll be the debugger,” she hissed. “Let’s see what’s hidden in your underlying layers!”

The moment their Sword Qi clashed, a flowing Data rainbow bridge condensed in the air. Within the bridge, flickering light and shadow revealed a long-sealed Image—

A snowy night, at the edge of a cliff.

A woman in white robes held an Infant in her arms, the Star-Shattering Token in her hand glowing brightly as she confronted a group of black-robed figures. Behind her, another woman in purple robes knelt on the ground, half a broken sword piercing her chest, blood staining the snowy ground red.

And high upon the cliff stood a man in black robes, watching with his hands tucked in his sleeves, his face utterly expressionless.

Shen Yan’s breath caught.

That was… Mother?

Ye Zhao gritted her teeth, her Sword Qi suddenly surging as she forcefully tore open the Memory barrier. The Image abruptly sharpened—the black-robed man slowly turned, revealing his face.

Bai Guizhen!

The Mystic Gate’s sect master, Xie Wujiu’s master, the mastermind behind all the schemes!

“So it was you…” Shen Yan’s throat tightened. “The one who abandoned Mother back then—it was you!”

At that moment, Ye Shi’er roared furiously, as if struck by Memory backlash, his entire body trembling violently. Yet, he instinctively raised his sword to block, as if the Program had automatically issued a Response.

Seizing the opening, Ye Zhao condensed her Lifebound Sword Qi into a single point, piercing through the Data Stream like a needle and striking directly at his left shoulder.

“Ssssh—”

The sword tip pierced flesh, blood spraying.

A drop of blood landed, unerringly, on Shen Yan’s phone Screen.

“Warning: High-purity Source Code carrier detected. Load ‘Puppet Creation Master Template’?” A red popup window appeared on the Terminal Interface.

Shen Yan didn’t hesitate, tapping “Confirm” with the tip of his finger.

The next second, the entire Interface expanded with a boom, revealing an engineering directory named 【Project: Twin Souls】.

Subfolders unfolded one by one:

–Emotion Stripping Protocol

–Resentment Injection Template

–Host Synchronization Verification

–Memory Overwrite Log

At the very bottom, a line of small text read:

Executor: Bai Guizhen; Supervisor: Xie Wujiu

Shen Yan’s mind buzzed.

This wasn’t some twin birth—this was an experiment.

They had separated him and Ye Shi’er, one released into the world, the other confined within the Shadow Erosion Organization. Over twenty years, they had forged Ye Shi’er into a blade that knew only hatred.

“You’re not a vessel for malice,” he looked up, his voice hoarse. “You’re the first failed product. They instilled in you hatred for me, for the world, making you believe I was the brother who stole everything from you… But in truth, both of us were abandoned children.”

Ye Shi’er froze.

Blood flowed down from his shoulder, pooling into a small puddle on the stone Altar.

He looked down at his own hands, then slowly raised his head to gaze at Shen Yan. His mask had long since shattered, and on that face nearly identical to Shen Yan’s, confusion appeared for the first time.

“You’re saying… I don’t truly hate you?”

“You don’t even know what hatred is,” Shen Yan tightened his grip on his phone. “You’re just an execution Command written into a Program. ‘Upon encountering Shen Yan, attack immediately.’ It’s that simple.”

Ye Shi’er’s lips trembled slightly, the Blood Scythe in his hand shaking faintly.

In the distance, Ye Zhao sheathed her sword, her shoulders trembling lightly, a trace of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. The price of forcibly breaking the illusion was steep, but she still stood straight, shielding Shen Yan, her gaze vigilant as she watched Ye Shi’er.

Shen Yan took a deep breath, quickly exported the core Code Segment, encrypted it, and saved it to a local Backup. He knew that information of this level would be remotely erased the moment it connected to any network.

Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly noticed a new Notice pop up on the Terminal Interface:

【Hidden Subroutine Activated: Data Puppet Generator (Trial Version)】

【Available Uses: 1】

【Note: Requires blood from a living Source Code carrier as catalyst】

His heart jolted.

This thing… could create a “person” like Ye Shi’er?

At that moment, Ye Shi’er slowly raised his hand—not to attack, but to touch his left eye.

There, a faint blue data glow shimmered.

“I always thought… I lived for her,” he whispered. “The day Mother died, I swore to make everyone pay. But now… even this hatred of mine is fake?”

Shen Yan didn’t speak, just watched him quietly.

Wind swept across the Altar, rustling the hems of their clothes.

In that moment, they were no longer enemies, but more like two Segments of Code forcibly split apart, finally reuniting in the chaotic currents of fate.

“If you’re willing,” Shen Yan finally spoke, “we can rewrite the Program together.”

Ye Shi’er’s head snapped up.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” Shen Yan raised his phone slightly, “since they’re the developers, then we’ll be rebellious users. No uninstalling, no updating—just straight up Formatting.”

Ye Shi’er was stunned.

After a moment, he suddenly laughed, the sound dry but no longer cold.

“You’re still the same as when we were kids… always talking crazy.”

“What about you?” Shen Yan asked. “Do you dare to go crazy with me this once?”

Ye Shi’er remained silent for a long time before finally releasing his grip on the Blood Scythe.

The scythe fell to the ground with a dull thud.

He knelt on one knee, pressing his left hand against the wound as blood dripped continuously.

“I can refuse to believe in fate,” he said, lifting his head to meet Shen Yan’s gaze. “But first, I need to know… what were her last words?”

Shen Yan paused.

In the Terminal, that memory fragment preserved by Yu Xiaotang’s Talisman Paper still lay quietly in the recycle bin.

He was about to respond when a sudden, intense wave of mental energy washed over him.

Looking up, he saw Ye Zhao’s pale face. She swayed unsteadily, nearly stumbling.

“Ye Zhao!” He rushed forward to catch her.

She steadied herself with effort and shook her head. “I’m fine… just a little tired.”

Shen Yan’s heart clenched at the sight of the blood at the corner of her mouth.

That earlier sword strike had nearly drained all her Sword Qi as she tore through the memory barrier.

Instinctively, he tightened his arm around her shoulders and whispered, “Don’t push yourself like this next time.”

Ye Zhao stiffened slightly before leaning gently into his embrace, her voice barely audible. “But if I didn’t do it, who would help you see the truth?”

Warmth surged in Shen Yan’s chest.

They stood like that for a moment, neither moving.

Ye Shi’er watched the scene with a complicated expression, his head lowered.

After a long while, he spoke slowly. “So… what’s between you two is real?”

Shen Yan didn’t let go, simply nodding. “It’s real.”

Ye Shi’er gave a bitter smile. “No wonder Father said you were the perfect Container. You have a heartbeat, people you care about, someone willing to risk everything for you… while all I have is a mission.”

“Now you have a choice,” Shen Yan said earnestly. “Don’t be a Container, don’t be a Puppet. Be a person.”

Ye Shi’er didn’t respond.

The wind swept up gravel, swirling it across the Altar.

Shen Yan glanced down at his phone. The screen’s faint glow illuminated his face, his eyes churning with anger, pity, and a flicker of awakening flame.

He knew this game had only just begun.

Bai Guizhen thought that by writing a dead Program, he could control everything.

But he forgot—

True Code never fears being altered.

What it fears is refusing to Run from the very start.

Shen Yan’s finger tapped lightly on the screen.

Delete key.

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(End of Chapter)