Chapter 440: Chapter 359: Reliving the Past
Jiuyue had not expected that probing into mories could be such an overwhelming affair.
For a mont, she couldn’t distinguish whether this heaviness stemd simply from the sudden appearance of a childhood friend or from witnessing a life on the verge of withering.
In this mory, Mr. Mingyuan was no longer omnipotent.
Back then, he lacked the knowledge of the decades that followed and wasn’t yet the acclaid coach of the Resurrection competition.
But now, she decided to pull herself together.
"The reality is clear now, the real ’black mud’ is soone else; it clung to the Prophet, but the Prophet’s Life Energy couldn’t sustain symbiosis between the two. You can’t be blad, you did everything you could."
Although this "story" wasn’t born from Jiuyue’s own intention, their efforts led them to diverge and discover the truth through "deep mories," but, this truth didn’t lead to a happy ending.
The little Prophet died, and Duan Mingyuan fabricated that part of the mory, replacing the events of that night with a story he told the little Prophet.
Jiuyue placed her hands on Duan Mingyuan’s shoulders, letting him feel her strength.
From Duan Mingyuan’s expression, the final round of the "Fabricated Story Competition" had produced its ultimate winner. Ms. Olive Fox September, a psychologist, secured the championship in the first edition of the competition, and it was foreseeable that this na would significantly influence future competitors.
The inaugural champions of any event are often long rembered, as they complete the journey from nothing to sothing.
"You should rest early."
Jiuyue lay down in bed, pulling the covers over herself.
Though she spoke thus, sleep eluded her.
Duan Mingyuan’s reaction was sowhat surprising to her after recovering this mory.
The dead childhood friend, the mories he himself had sealed away—when these past recollections resurfaced, they often brought unbearable pain.
From the standpoint of a psychologist, people defend against these painful mories by avoiding them, but it’s like a ticking ti bomb—the longer you postpone facing it, the more devastating it becos when you finally do, potentially to an overwhelming extent.
Yet Duan Mingyuan seed to carry on as usual.
He simply made the diagnosis for the little Prophet that he hadn’t been able to at the ti.
"Mr. Mingyuan."
With her back to Duan Mingyuan, Jiuyue suddenly spoke, "If you ever want to share what’s on your mind, feel free to do so."
Knowing Duan Mingyuan as she did, he was the type who liked to keep his feelings concealed.
Show no emotions—this is what people an by "emotional stability," but it doesn’t an that their hearts aren’t overwheld by anguish.
"For instance, how do you actually view the little Prophet?"
Jiuyue led gently, a question also lingering in her own mind.
A young boy experiencing the stirrings of first love, encountering a frail yet resilient girl—it was the start of the kind of love story Jiuyue was familiar with.
"A patient, go to sleep."
"I see."
His response left Jiuyue slightly disappointed. His indifferent tone, coupled with his clear reluctance to continue the discussion, all indicated that in Duan Mingyuan’s mind, the little Prophet was far more than just a regular patient.
Jiuyue quieted down, her back still to Duan Mingyuan, and fell deep into thought.
As soon as she closed her eyes, her mind was filled with images of the little Prophet on the hospital bed and Duan Mingyuan standing before it.
The "deep mory" was thus interrupted.
In the last segnt of the mory, Duan Mingyuan had agreed to the other’s request.
As long as he bought a bottle of yogurt, the little Prophet was willing to share the voices in her head with him, and having received her agreent, Duan Mingyuan hastily left the hospital room, perhaps with the notion still in his mind that he could save the little Prophet.
Duan Mingyuan forcefully terminated the mory, seemingly unwilling to witness what happened next.
However, history had already provided the answer.
In the records preserved by the Royal Hunting Court, the young Prophet did not die of illness.
She walked to the bedside and, as she was about to reach the end of her life, decided to take her life into her own hands.
Afterward, so believed the fall was because she was possessed.
Others thought it might be a brain disease that caused her to hallucinate, imagining herself as a bird breaking free from its cage.
There were also those who thought she was tired of living her days in the hospital room.
But no matter what, the death of the young Prophet had a profound impact on the Royal Hunting Court.
With the loss of the "Prophecy
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