Chapter Twenty-Six: A Meeting of Minds

Chapter Twenty-Six: [Collision of Souls]

Under the piercing shriek of the mind, only Xia Zheng dared to approach Nalan Sheng at this moment; no one else could, not even Camilla. She could have easily killed Nalan Sheng then and there, eliminating the immediate threat, but in doing so, she would force the Professional Alliance into an irreparable break with the Nalan family—a consequence she had to weigh carefully, even for herself.

"Xia Zheng, deal with this problem now. You have ten minutes, or I’ll handle it myself," Camilla sensed Xia Zheng slowly drawing closer to Nalan Sheng. She leapt atop her earthen wall, her gaze cold and razor-sharp as she watched the two below.

When a mentalist loses control, it is truly terrifying. They attack the brain directly, and over time such assaults can cause irreversible damage to others. The danger was grave, which was why Camilla had no choice but to threaten Xia Zheng to resolve the crisis. Ten minutes was her limit—any longer and, however unwilling, she would have to kill Nalan Sheng herself, regardless of the consequences with the Nalan family.

Xia Zheng was suffering too; his brain was also under relentless psychic assault, with himself as the primary target—others were merely caught in the crossfire. Fortunately, he was a mentalist too, and his unique spiritual constitution allowed him to withstand the barrage, but only for so long. After all, the previous battle had already left his mental energy greatly depleted.

He saw Nalan Sheng kneeling on the ground, neck raised, mouth silent but emanating waves of psychic force from her mind, forming a penetrating, aggressive power.

This can't go on. If my own mental energy runs out first, I’ll die for certain. But… He considered fleeing, but a glance at the murderous Camilla made him abandon the thought at once. If he dared retreat now, he might well be the first to die.

Xia Zheng struggled through immense pain to reach Nalan Sheng, intending to touch her and interrupt the shriek, but was instantly repelled. He gritted his teeth and tried again, only to be thrown back once more. In this state, Nalan Sheng was untouchable; anyone who came near would face her most powerful counterattack, unless they could kill her in a single instant with overwhelming force.

Seeing Xia Zheng repeatedly repelled, Camilla’s face became inscrutable as still water. With a voice not quite human, she called toward Nalan Rong, "Master Nalan, do you have any way to make your daughter cease her psychic assault?"

"This… I am not a mentalist, and only at A-level strength. Unless her grandfather arrives, there is nothing I can do…" Nalan Rong answered, struggling.

Camilla nodded. "So there’s no solution. The Alliance currently has no second mentalist on hand, and if your daughter’s attack continues, too many innocents will suffer. I have no choice but to end her. Whatever consequences your Nalan family wishes to pursue with the Alliance, we’ll settle later."

"No, Lady Camilla, she is the Nalan family's only mentalist prodigy. Without her, our family loses its last hope of rising again. I beg you, show mercy…" Nalan Rong pleaded bitterly.

Camilla snorted and barked, "Old man Nalan, I gave you a chance—you’re the one without a solution. As one of the Twelve Stewards, I will not allow such a tragedy in the Alliance’s division. Speak no more."

"I…" Nalan Rong bowed his head in pain.

Ignoring him, Camilla turned her gaze back to the scene below—then uttered an "Oh?" in surprise, for she saw Xia Zheng finally about to reach Nalan Sheng. Whatever method he used, there were still five minutes left of her deadline.

From a third-person angle, the situation within the earthen walls revealed little. Yet Xia Zheng was now continuously circulating the Soul Refining Technique, absorbing Nalan Sheng’s rampaging psychic energy. This restored his own strength while weakening her assault. It was his first time using this technique, but its effectiveness was remarkable.

To think the Soul Refining Technique proves useful now—how timely. Xia Zheng slowly extended his hand toward Nalan Sheng’s shoulder. He was convinced that if he touched her, he could halt her rampage—an intuition born of shared psychic abilities.

Another minute passed. Camilla at last lost patience; with a surge of energy, the surrounding ochre earth gathered into a colossal fist. If it struck, Nalan Sheng would be annihilated.

Seeing this, Xia Zheng misunderstood, thinking Camilla meant to kill both him and Nalan Sheng. In a burst of fury, he accelerated his absorption, fully restoring his mental energy. For a brief instant, Nalan Sheng’s psychic assault faltered, allowing Xia Zheng’s palm to land squarely on her shoulder.

In that moment, the world around Xia Zheng turned a blinding white. There was no one else—he seemed to be drawn into another realm.

What is this…

He sensed himself drifting into a place that looked like a manor’s villa. The room was in chaos—a woman’s cries of pain echoed; she was clearly in labor…

Then, involuntarily, he found himself in the corridor outside the delivery room, where four distinguished-looking middle-aged men and an elder stood solemnly, awaiting news.

At last, the wail of a newborn was heard from within, and all five men became visibly excited.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" the elder inquired.

The nurse, holding the infant, glanced at them hesitantly. "Congratulations, sir—it’s a little princess."

"Oh… I see…" The elder turned away, disappointment evident in his stride.

"So the Nalan family is truly fated to have no sons…"

"With the main line of Evernight City ended, will the branch line perish as well?"

"Heavens, why must the Nalan family suffer so?"

A sigh escaped the infant's father.

Watching all this, Xia Zheng understood—these were fragments of Nalan Sheng’s memories. He had absorbed so much of her psychic energy, especially in that final desperate moment, that even pieces of her memory had entered his mind.

Why say such things about her? Is having a daughter so bad? Why must it be a son? Xia Zheng challenged the four men, indignant, but the scene was only memory. No one heard him. The sound of a woman weeping came from the room—presumably the mother. For some reason, the Nalan family had produced no sons for a generation, meaning that even if the branch line inherited the main line’s legacy, it could not be passed on further.

The scene shifted again. This time, Xia Zheng found himself beneath a sprawling, ancient banyan tree—hundreds of years old, older than the Federation itself.

Beneath the tree, a beautiful little girl of about five or six played with a ball, humming a tune; the setting was idyllic and mesmerizing.

"Sheng’er…" a man called, his tone stern.

The little girl, wholly absorbed in her game, did not answer. The man strode over, snatched the ball away, and seized her hand. "Why are you playing? Didn’t I tell you to study your techniques? You must inherit the Nalan family’s arts—do you understand?"

"Daddy… I don’t want to study… I want to play…" The girl sobbed, eyes fixed longingly on the ball, and Xia Zheng’s heart ached to intervene, but he was powerless in this inner world.

A sharp slap rang out. The girl fell, a red mark blooming on her cheek. The man’s towering figure only made her cry harder, but it was useless—this father never showed her pity, only forced her to learn ever more, regardless of whether she wanted or could. Such was the fate of a Nalan child.

"Useless thing!" the man spat, storming away in anger. Xia Zheng approached the crying girl, reaching out to comfort her, only to be met by her tearful gaze.

This time, Nalan Sheng seemed able to see him. She looked up and asked, "Why should I be despised by the family just for being a girl? Why?"

"It’s not your fault. It’s the world that’s wrong…" Xia Zheng choked out. He had never imagined Nalan Sheng’s childhood to be so tragic. Though born to a great family and enjoying privileges others envied, she lacked the most basic warmth of kinship. Compared to her, he was fortunate—even in difficult times, when his family survived on Federation relief, they had always stayed together, united through hardship.

The scene shifted once more. At twelve, Nalan Sheng awakened her abilities, and her grandfather, Nalan Xuan, discovered her psychic talent with a secret family method. Instantly, her status soared, but so did the family’s control.

She could not attend school like others her age; though she had private tutors and the best resources, she did not want them. But now, understanding her fate, she quietly accepted all of it.

When a high-ranking military official sought to send her to the Academy for Gifted Individuals, her grandfather fought bitterly against them, sustaining grave injuries but ultimately ensuring she remained home to study the ancestral psychic arts.

From then on, Nalan Sheng became like ice, gradually shedding her personality and innocence to become cold and powerful. The family arranged countless opponents for her to overcome, and she defeated them all—even adults who had already become ability users fell at her feet.

"I cannot lose… So, what do you say?" Nalan Sheng stood expressionless beside Xia Zheng.

He understood the pain in her heart. Since childhood, her life and training had been a living nightmare, bereft of warmth, centered only on victory—victory over all rivals, man or woman, to silence every doubter and become the undisputed heir of the Nalan family. That, now, was her only desire and meaning in life. So she—could not lose!

"All things must fade one day. Even the universe will know destruction and rebirth. There are no undefeated generals, no eternal legends. Failure is not shameful—it is only a step toward greater strength. Nalan Sheng, you will grow stronger, and your father and grandfather will accept you—not as a disappointment for being a girl, but with pride." Unable to help himself, Xia Zheng embraced Nalan Sheng, knowing only this could give strength and comfort to the girl whose exterior was strong but whose heart was fragile.

Nalan Sheng wept. She had not shed a tear since awakening her powers—not when gravely wounded in victory, not when training to exhaustion and sleeplessness. She knew no one in this world would care if she cried. But today was different, and so she—cried.

Camilla breathed a sigh of relief, withdrawing her accumulated power; the massive fist crumbled to sand and settled softly to the ground, where two young people clung to each other, seeming even to share a kiss.

As the psychic assault lifted, everyone recovered and stood, clutching their heads in stunned clarity. Even the special guests like Nalan Rong witnessed an astonishing scene.

Xia Zheng and Nalan Sheng, entwined in a deep embrace and kiss, became the focus of all eyes. Camilla even led the applause, and soon many joined in. Nalan Rong’s face was ashen, but with the entire hall applauding, he could only shut his eyes in resignation.