Xiao had been fighting in Liyue for months, each day blending into the next without rest. Exhaustion wrapped around him like a heavy shroud, but he pressed on to protect his homeland, believing his duty to Zhongli was paramount. With every clash, his body became a canvas of scars and injuries, which he neglected, convinced that sacrifice was the only path. The vibrant colors of life faded, leaving only dull grays, and laughter and joy evaporated into a haunting silence, intensifying the emptiness inside him.

In battle, despair seeped into his bones. Each strike of his lance felt distant, and the world lost its vibrancy, overtaken by shadows. Pain from countless wounds became background noise to his determination. Blood mixed with the green smoke of Yaksha energy, but he pressed on, reaching for his lance that lay just out of reach. His muscles betrayed him, leaving him with a haunting numbness. As fatigue settled in, everything around him blurred into a gray fog, drowning out his thoughts and emotions.

Finally, darkness enveloped him as he fell backward into the snow, the crunch beneath him almost inaudible. His shirt soaked with crimson, he lay there, his almond-shaped eyes losing their spark. Tears flowed silently down his cheeks, a painful reminder of the life he had sacrificed. The shattered pieces of his Yaksha necklace mirrored his fractured spirit. He felt warmth against him, a fleeting comfort, but it felt foreign now.

As the icy grip of oblivion tightened, whispers filled his mind, but clarity slipped away. A golden light flickered, perhaps a memory, but it quickly faded. The weight of despair pulled him deeper into silence. In those final moments, he couldn't tell if he had succumbed to death or drifted into a dreamless void. All that remained was a profound emptiness as the world around him faded into nothingness.