A single, simple sentence, yet it felt like a searing flame that completely melted the icy shell around Gongsun Lu’s heart. Two streams of clear tears welled in her eyes, two rivers of pure, transparent sorrow…

Her usually frigid gaze flickered with bursts of light—a joy, an eagerness, and above all, a profound sense of being touched.

He had actually confessed his feelings to her. He truly had confessed his heart. Having been by Liang Xiaoke’s side for thousands of years, the sentient Gongsun Lu knew exactly the kind of man he was: despicable and lecherous, shameless and base, always prioritizing the flesh of women. Even the departures of Monik, Leilina, and Liang Xing’s mother hadn't affected him. Even the bewitching woman he constantly claimed to love was, in his mind, predominantly a physical fixation. There had never been a single girl who truly occupied a place in his heart.

It seemed that carnal pleasure eclipsed everything else. In his world, there was no room for that moving, lingering kind of love. In his eyes, every woman was merely a tool to satisfy his desires. Yet now, in order to ensure her continued existence, he was willingly forfeiting the chance to take that final step forward.

This was an opportunity that many people would never attain. Even those mighty Yu-level experts in the Celestial Realm hadn't seen such a chance in eons. Few across the Three Realms could ever grasp such a possibility, but he still gave it up—truly gave it up—for her sake.

Gongsun Lu didn't want to cry. She wasn't even sure if she still possessed tears, but now, the moisture in her eyes spilled down uncontrollably.

Did a Blood Corpse possess tears? Or, more accurately, was she still a Blood Corpse now? Neither she nor Liang Xiaoke paid any heed to such questions.

She only knew that for the man before her, she would give everything, even her own life. She was no longer that arrogant Miss Gongsun; she was the Blood Corpse he created, his slave. Her consciousness, her very being—all were gifted by him. He was her totality, so even knowing she was meant to be sacrificed, she held no resentment.

She knew this was her duty!

He, too, once believed everything was exactly that way: she was merely his slave, his tool, someone he could manipulate however he pleased. Sacrificing her for that final breakthrough would have been perfectly normal. But only at this moment did he realize that after so many years together, he had grown accustomed to her presence. Perhaps what he felt for her wasn't called 'love,' but it was a sentiment deeper than love, richer than love, and more essential than love.

The most terrifying thing in life is habit. If you spend a month getting used to something, you might find it hard to let go. If you spend years accustomed to a certain thing or person, perhaps you become inseparable. But if you have grown accustomed to someone for millennia, could you bear to lose them?

All he knew now was that she could not die. She absolutely had to live, even if it meant he could not take that final step…

He collected all his focus. His vital essence, energy, and spirit peaked at an unbelievable apex. His cultivation soared like a rocket to its zenith, yet he still did not make that move…

Without regret, without hesitation, Liang Xiaoke lightly kissed Gongsun Lu’s forehead. He then grasped her small hand and turned, kneeling deeply before the Grandmaster Tongtian.

“Your disciple is incompetent. I failed to sever that last thread of attachment, unable to take that final step. I have disappointed the Patriarch’s expectations. I beg the Patriarch to punish me!” By now, how could Liang Xiaoke fail to understand that Grandmaster Tongtian had come to enlighten him? How many in the Three Realms had the opportunity to receive personal guidance from the Grandmaster Tongtian? Even his great disciples back then only occasionally heard him impart a sentence or two of profound Daoic essence.

Only he had received the Grandmaster’s dedicated instruction; only such a being could accelerate his cultivation so rapidly in such a short time.

Yet, he still could not cut away that final trace of obsession. He felt ashamed for failing his kindness, ashamed before Tongtian. But he had no regrets; he refused to leave any lingering sorrow for himself.

Gongsun Lu remained silent, but her eyes conveyed every nuance of her heart—she was willing to endure any punishment in Liang Xiaoke’s stead.

Seeing the resolute look in both their eyes, the Grandmaster Tongtian, who had already retracted the Immortal Slaying Formation Map and maintained a frigid expression, suddenly broke into a smile. “Truly worthy of being my disciple, Tongtian. Although your methods may not always be glorious, you possess a heart that values deep loyalty and righteousness. To the devil with the Saint Realm, to the devil with having no desires and no attachments! We are men; men must have human emotions. Liang Xiaoke, from this day forward, you are the first disciple I have accepted since my battle of Conferring the Gods. Whoever dares to cause you trouble, this venerable master will annihilate their entire clan!”

Liang Xiaoke froze. He had expected Tongtian to punish him, or at the very least, to turn away in disgust, abandoning him for failing his good intentions. How could he have imagined not only that he wouldn't be blamed, but that the Grandmaster would personally accept him as a disciple?

To become a disciple of Grandmaster Tongtian—that was a dream pursued by countless beings. Especially the Grandmaster’s final declaration, ‘Whoever dares to cause you trouble, this venerable master will annihilate their entire clan,’ moved Liang Xiaoke to tears—tears of such profound grief and emotion that he lunged forward, throwing himself at the Grandmaster Tongtian’s legs, wiping all his snot and tears onto Tongtian’s immaculate Daoist robe. Seeing his pristine robe quickly sullied by Liang Xiaoke’s rough handling, Grandmaster Tongtian wore a wry smile. Was this fellow doing it on purpose?

“What? Are you unwilling?” Seeing Liang Xiaoke threatening to continue weeping indefinitely, Tongtian let out a cold snort.

Liang Xiaoke snapped back to attention. He pulled his body back, then dutifully kowtowed three times again, respectfully proclaiming, “Disciple greets Master!”

That calling of ‘Master’ was immensely intimate. Yet, considering the circumstances, he was a Corpse Cultivator, whose lineage likely traced back countless generations beneath Tongtian. With this single address, his status instantly shot to the very forefront. He was now on the same generational level as figures like the Venerable Duobao and the Holy Mother Jinling. Never mind his own master, who was likely long dead and gone; even Wen Zhong, the minister of the Shang Dynasty who was later deified as the Ancestor of the Thunder Department during the War of Conferring the Gods, would have to address him respectfully as Martial Uncle.

How could he not be ecstatic about such fortune?