After Transmigrating, I Died of Depression Without My Phone - Chapter 94.2

He didn’t know exactly how to free Long Xiang from the Dao’s control, but he was certain of one thing: as long as he could drain enough of the divine pillar’s power, the Dao wouldn’t be able to bind her any longer. So he needed to steal as much energy from it as possible, even if it meant depleting himself further.

The golden crow wavered in the sky, then descended to Beiting Xue’s side, as if saying something to him. But he had already blocked his senses. Whatever the crow said was futile.

Frustrated, the golden crow darted toward Long Xiang. Beiting Xue, finally reacting, rushed to protect her, but her protective aura repelled the golden crow before he could even reach her.

Long Xiang stirred awake, feeling as if she had slept for an eternity.

Her mind cleared, and as she sat up from the soft cloud she had been resting on, the first thing she saw was the golden crow being thrown back.

What was it trying to do?

Long Xiang blinked, confused, until she realized that Beiting Xue wasn’t beside her. Frantically, she turned, only to see him standing amidst a powerful surge of energy, his form flickering as if he were part of a distant illusion.

His dark hair and white robes seemed to blur with the snow around him, his figure fading in and out like a mirage, half-real and half-dream.

“Beiting Xue!” Long Xiang called out, rushing toward him, but he stopped her with a quiet command: “Go.”

She halted mid-step, seeing that he had opened a bright, glowing path for her.

“Go now. The time has come,” he said calmly, his voice steady, though his figure remained ghostly.

“Don’t look back. Keep walking straight ahead.”

There was a strange power in his words, as if they were infused with magic. Almost against her will, Long Xiang’s feet turned, and she began walking toward the tunnel of light without looking back.

Later, Long Xiang would realize that his words had likely been some form of spell, perhaps even a form of the Dao itself. By drawing on the pillar’s power, he had briefly accessed the Dao’s abilities, ensuring that his words would become reality. Long Xiang had no choice but to follow them.

Even though her heart screamed at her to stay, to refuse to leave him, her body obeyed his command. She had to go.

The further she walked away from Beiting Xue, the dimmer the light grew around her. But she could feel that she was heading toward a familiar place—warm, safe, and irresistibly comforting.

As she moved forward, memories flashed through her mind like a film reel just before death. She saw her first meeting with Beiting Xue, their early days of clashing, the moments of tenderness, and the pain they had shared.

She saw everything, even the events that had taken place after she entered the divine pillar. The cultivators had realized that Long Xiang had entered the Celestial Ladder and assumed she had ascended. The Monster Lord, who had been imprisoned at the base of the pillar to maintain the barrier, was bound by the cultivators once Long Xiang fully left the world. He had been so weakened by the barrier that he could barely maintain his human form, his body covered in snake scales, his spiritual veins withered. He was no longer a threat, and the cultivators planned to execute him once the new rulers of the cultivation world took power.

Long Xiang also saw the grand ceremony that had been prepared for her coronation in the Northern Court. The cultivators had removed the red silk Beiting Xue had personally hung for their wedding and replaced it with endless black drapery, the royal color of the new ruler they had expected her to become.

But she would never return to that place.

The cultivators had waited and waited, but when she didn’t come back, they decided to place Beiting Xue’s name tablet alongside hers on the imperial throne, believing this would symbolize their unity in life and death.

Seeing this, Long Xiang couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. So in the end, she and Beiting Xue would be together this way?

The cultivators seemed pleased with their decision, thinking that Long Xiang and Beiting Xue would also approve. Surely now, with the two united, the eternal night would finally end.

Yes, the eternal night still hadn’t ended. Long Xiang did a mental count—how many days had passed?

Had it been seven days already?

Would the skies brighten, just like the original ending of the story?

Whether it would or wouldn’t, it no longer mattered to Long Xiang.

As her thoughts became clearer, her consciousness grew hazy once again. Her vision blurred, and her body felt weak, drifting along like a leaf caught in the wind.

Suddenly, her phone emitted a bright flash, yanking her back to reality with a heavy thud. Gasping for breath, Long Xiang sat up abruptly, her chest heaving as she tried to make sense of the familiar voice beside her.

“Xiang, what’s wrong? Why are you shouting?”

Long Xiang, drenched in sweat, looked around. She saw her familiar bed, the familiar room setup, and the head of her roommate poking up from the bottom bunk.

“…Qingtong?” she asked, her voice dazed, eyes filled with a mix of shock and nostalgia, as if she wasn’t quite sure this was real.

Song Qingtong climbed up a bit higher, reaching out to touch Long Xiang’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever, so why are you sweating so much? And your face is all red? It’s not even hot today.”

It was autumn, the most comfortable and pleasant season. There was no reason for Long Xiang to feel overheated.

In a hurry, Long Xiang climbed down from the top bunk and rushed to the balcony. She flung open the window and looked out, seeing the familiar trees and the familiar dormitory building.

No mystical powers, no ancient robes, no sinister beings radiating demonic energy or magical auras. Just the normal world.

The world outside was peaceful, the autumn air crisp and refreshing. Long Xiang gazed out the window, seeing one of her dormmates returning with takeout.

“Can’t wait, huh? Almost there! I got your favorite—steamed ribs with rice flour!”

Long Xiang pinched herself hard, drawing in a sharp breath from the pain.

Suddenly, she started crying, tears mixing with laughter. It was strange.

Song Qingtong, her roommate, wearing slippers, approached her and waved down to their dormmate below. “Hey, Sheng Sheng, hurry up! Look, Xiang is so hungry, she’s crying!”

Long Xiang turned and threw herself into Song Qingtong’s arms, laughing and crying, almost delirious.

Song Qingtong became worried. “What’s wrong with you? Did you have a nightmare?”

Long Xiang nodded and shook her head at the same time. “Yes… yes, a terrible dream.”

Song Qingtong sighed, gently comforting her. “Alright, alright, it’s over now. You’re too grown up to be scared by a dream. It’s nothing, okay? Just a dream.”

Long Xiang closed her eyes tightly, savoring this rare, precious moment of reality.

She kept telling herself it was just a dream, that it was all over now.

No matter what, she had come home—that was the most important thing.

But could telling herself not to believe it make it so?