It was a total disaster.
Wenli had thought it would be an easy fight — a light trial, as her master had described it — but from the moment the ground split open and the gory mist oozed from the marsh, she knew how wrong that was.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, every breath searing like fire.
A whisper flickered through her mind, her master's voice crackling through a communication spell that barely held.
"Fear should not consume you. The bright side is what matters."
Then silence — the spell was gone as abruptly as it came, leaving her alone in a world that stank of blood and rot.
The bright side? Wenli thought bitterly, blocking a blow that sent her sliding through the mud. There was nothing bright about this.
The gory that towered before them was nothing short of nightmare — a twisted mass of flesh without hands or feet, its limbs reduced to gnarled stumps that floated inches from the ground. A black mist poured from its eyeless sockets, and wherever the mist touched, the earth hissed and burned.
LuPeng and XiMei fought by her side, both already bruised and bloodied. Every strike they landed seemed to dissolve before it made contact. Swords passed through the creature's smoky flesh as though it were water.
Still, they did not yield.
"Elder Sister!" XiMei's voice broke through their shared mind-link, trembling but determined. "I think I see a house near the river!"
"What has a house got to do with the fight we're having here?" Wenli gritted her teeth, parrying another swipe of the creature's phantom arm. Her wrist burned from the strain.
"We can take shelter — come back when we've found a way! We can't defeat this thing like this!" XiMei's voice cracked, shame lacing her tone. "I'm sorry if it was a foolish idea."
Wenli exhaled sharply — a sound that even the gory paused to hear. "It's not foolish. Just—"
LuPeng cut in, his voice steady and older, grounding them all. "Since you have the ability, send your butterflies. Let them scout. They'll tell us if the place is safe or not. No hesitation, XiMei."
XiMei bit her lip and nodded. The mark between her brows shimmered faintly as she raised her hand. A pulse of blue energy burst from her palm, scattering into a thousand glowing butterflies that darted through the mist like sparks of moonlight.
She returned to the fight, weaker now, her focus divided. Her sword trembled slightly as she deflected the gory's attack.
Then something caught her eye. Through her butterflies' vision — a flicker of movement by the riverside house. Her concentration faltered.
"XiMei!" Wenli shouted as the gory's shriek tore through the air. The monster swung its stump-arm like a whip, and XiMei was hurled across the clearing, crashing through a thicket of bamboo.
"XiMei!" Both Wenli and LuPeng shouted in unison.
"I'm okay!" came her faint, winded reply. "Don't fret!"
Wenli's heart clenched, but before she could respond, XiMei's voice flickered again through the mind-link.
"Elder Sister, Teacher LuPeng — I think I found something."
"Huh?" Wenli dodged a swipe, while LuPeng narrowly avoided a strike that would have shattered his ribs. Wenli grabbed his wrist midair, steadying him before they both fell.
"Thanks," he said breathlessly.
Still gripping his hand, she pushed off the ground, dragging them both toward the monster's flank. "Focus. What did you find?"
XiMei's voice came clearer now, distant but urgent.
"There are two people in that house. A young girl… and a man. Wait — that man looks familiar."
"What are you talking about?" Wenli snapped, slashing through another wave of mist. "Speak properly—"
"The narrator!" XiMei cried out.
Wenli froze. "What?"
"The man from the inn last night — the one who told that story. He's inside the house!"
Wenli's eyes flared with fury. "That bastard?! Don't tell me—"
"Elder Sister," XiMei interrupted, voice trembling now. "He's the one controlling this gory."
"What? He's just—"
"I've seen my master perform this kind of spell before," XiMei said, voice low but certain. "This is dark magic. Forbidden. It drains life to sustain the dead."
LuPeng's face hardened. "And the girl?"
"She's holding a knife. Too small for defense."
Wenli's breath hitched. "A medical knife," she murmured. "She's… cutting?"
"She's hesitating." XiMei's voice faltered. "She's afraid."
A blinding wave of white light burst through XiMei's mind link, sending pain shooting through her skull. She gasped, breaking the spell, her butterflies flickering and dying midair.
"My butterflies… they can't hold. The power's too much."
"Any ideas?" Wenli demanded, spinning her sword and slashing at the gory again. The blade met nothing but vapor, yet sparks of blue qi danced around her — stubborn and defiant.
XiMei opened her eyes and saw them both struggling, their auras flickering under the weight of exhaustion.
"Master says it's dangerous," she whispered.
"Dangerous?" Wenli barked, nearly slipping on the wet ground. "We're about to die here! What's more dangerous than this bodiless monster puppeteered by a lunatic storyteller?"
Her frustration burst out like fire qi crackling from her blade. She had wanted a real battle — something glorious, something worthy — not this cursed half-life that couldn't even bleed when struck.
XiMei clenched her fists. "Then listen to me. You and Teacher LuPeng lead the gory away from the river. I'll pull that bastard out of his hiding place."
"You?" LuPeng's voice was sharp, but underneath it was faith. "Don't get trapped. I heard people get stuck in that place once it seals its curse."
XiMei smiled faintly. "I know. But if the girl's alive, I can reach her. I'll use empathy magic — connect with her heart, find out what he's doing."
Wenli's jaw tightened. "You fool."
The word trembled — part anger, part fear.
But LuPeng's tone softened, almost like an older brother's. "Do it. I trust you."
XiMei bowed her head once. "Then hurry. Keep him busy."
Wenli raised her sword, letting her qi surge like a storm. The ground beneath her split with a roar, blue fire erupting around her feet. "We'll give you all the time we can."
The gory screamed, a sound like rusted metal grinding against bone. Its mist expanded, wrapping around the battlefield in a storm of black smoke.
LuPeng's spiritual fan unfurled, glowing faint gold as wind blades slashed outward, clearing a path. "Move!"
Wenli leapt through the smoke, her blade igniting with phoenix-blue fire, each strike carving ripples in the air. The ground trembled beneath their feet, qi colliding with corrupted energy.
"Come on then!" she shouted, fire spiraling from her sword. "You want a fight? You'll get one!"
Behind them, XiMei sat cross-legged by the riverbank, the world narrowing into silence. Her butterflies had died, but her mind stretched further, deeper — reaching for the girl trapped in the cursed house.
The mist above the river swirled, and for the first time, she heard a child's sob.
"Please… don't make me cut him again…"
XiMei's eyes snapped open. Her heart froze.
Whatever was happening inside that house — it wasn't just dark magic. It was a ritual.
And if they didn't stop it soon, that gory wouldn't be the only monster unleashed.
____
Wenli had done that countless times before—
that look she wore when her heart was breaking but she refused to let it show.
She had worn it during her medical exams, when her mind screamed with doubt but her lips curved in calm defiance.
She had worn it during her interview, when questions grew sharp as daggers and she smiled like she was untouchable.
She had worn it when she was mocked during her internship—bullied for being too smart, too perfect, too much.
When her aunt—her only true defender—had died the same night she came to comfort her at work, Wenli had clenched her jaw and kept her tears buried beneath that same mask of unbothered pride.
It was easier to pretend she was fine than to admit she was breaking.
Even later, when the world discovered she was the daughter of the richest man alive, she had smiled again—this time, not to hide her pain, but to weaponize it.
Her overconfidence had become her shield; envy, her silent revenge.
Now, standing before a monstrous, faceless demon that refused to die, Wenli wore that same look again—
the one that lied to everyone, even herself.
As she and LuPeng fought, their every movement painted the ground in slashes of light and shadow.
The gory mist howled like a storm given form, its body nothing more than smoke and hatred—claws and teeth shifting like liquid rage.
Each strike Wenli landed turned into mist.
Each defensive sweep of LuPeng's sword met nothing but hollow air.
Still, Wenli's expression didn't falter.
"Keep pushing!" she shouted, her voice sharp against the wind. "We have to draw it farther from XiMei!"
The two moved like a rhythm—LuPeng's heavy swings anchoring her swift, darting strikes. Their qi flared through the forest clearing, scattering debris, making the earth hum beneath their feet.
XiMei, some distance away, could feel her master's brutal training echoing through her veins. Her master had once told her: 'The pain you survive will one day kneel before you.'
That day, it seemed, had arrived.
She could tell from the mist's density that the creature was born from water corruption, a branch of dark sorcery that fed on despair.
Water that healed in the mortal realm could consume in the spiritual. And this one had feasted on countless souls.
"I'll have to give it a try," she muttered, fingers trembling.
Her eyes darted to make sure Wenli and LuPeng were far enough. The distance was vast—good. They wouldn't drown in the storm she was about to summon.
She pulled out a blue talisman, its ink shimmering faintly with sacred qi. Kneeling by the riverbank, she began to draw intricate sigils upon its surface. With a single flick of her wrist, she threw it toward the river—
and the talisman floated midair, glowing above the churning water like a suspended moon.
She tapped at her energy points one after another, wincing.
The process sealed parts of her strength, numbing her body, but it was the only way to stabilize the storm she would summon.
Her breath came ragged, but she didn't stop.
Then—
her hands blurred into motion.
Dozens of hand seals formed in the space of a heartbeat, her qi weaving through her fingers like silver light.
"Flowing Empathy Seal—open."
She slammed her palm into the ground.
The river answered.
A roar shook the valley.
The sky darkened as winds howled from every direction, drawing the water upward into a spiraling column.
Trees bent, earth cracked, and the mist-beast screeched, retreating instinctively from the surge.
XiMei stood at the eye of that chaos, drenched, her hair whipping like black silk in the storm. Her talismans glowed, one anchoring the barrier around her, the other pulsing in the river's center.
The air smelled of lightning and wet soil.
Her butterflies, frail constructs of her spiritual sense, still fluttered weakly inside the storm—eyes in the veil of madness. Through their vision, distorted and flickering, she could make out a shape—
a house, submerged halfway in mist and water.
"Of course," she whispered. "He's using the river as a conduit."
The moment she saw the man inside, her blood ran cold.
The narrator from the inn. The smiling man who had spoken of old legends with a mocking lilt.
Now, his hand moved like a puppeteer's, each gesture mirrored by the gory's motion outside.
___
XiMei could barely hold the connection; her butterflies were faltering. Still, she tried to push deeper—
until a shadow flickered behind her.
A hand—cold, clawed, and human-shaped—wrapped tightly around her neck.
"I was suspicious of that little act," a voice hissed near her ear, thick with amusement. "I underestimated you."
Her body went rigid with pain.
"Let go... you bastard!" she rasped, her words scraping past her throat.
"Only a skilled warrior could summon that wave," he said, voice slithering. "Who trained you? I might pay my respects—after I kill you."
Her fingers twitched toward her pouch. "Piss off—"
Before he could finish his taunt, a bolt of lightning tore through the air.
It struck them both, throwing him backward and sending her sprawling to the ground.
Wenli stood at the riverbank, her blade still humming with the afterglow of the lightning strike.
"You okay?" she called, rushing over.
XiMei coughed, half-laughing, half-crying. "Elder sister... are you trying to kill me with that power of yours?"
"I was worried for nothing, apparently," Wenli said, rolling her eyes even as relief softened her tone.
LuPeng stepped forward, blocking an incoming strike from the retreating narrator's spirit-beast with a sweep of his sword. Sparks flew as spiritual steel clashed with corrupted mist.
"We'll take it from here," he grunted.
Wenli tightened her grip on her sword, qi crackling along its edge like chained lightning.
With one sharp motion, she lashed out—the sword's energy forming a lightning chain that wrapped around the fleeing figure and yanked him backward.
"Now!" LuPeng barked, slamming his blade into the ground to seal the path behind him.
The two chased the man toward the mist-covered house while XiMei, drenched and trembling but resolute, turned her eyes back to the trembling girl inside.
Her next words were quiet but firm.
"Empathy... commence."
The storm roared again.
The cursed river howled.
And the battle beneath the heavens began its second act.
---
Inside the house, silence felt heavier than the storm outside.
The walls groaned faintly, soaked with mist and old air, while the scent of blood and crushed herbs lingered like a curse.
Broken bottles and rusted scalpels littered the floor, their edges catching faint glimmers of light that seeped through the cracked windows.
XiMei stepped carefully, her boots pressing softly against blood-stained tiles. Her gaze swept over the chaos — scattered medical instruments, dried petals of spirit herbs, and strange talismans burned into the floorboards.
The place was neither a home nor a clinic. It was a ritual ground disguised as mercy.
Near the center of the room knelt a young woman.
Her trembling hands hovered over the swollen belly of an obese, unconscious man. The blade in her hand — thin, sharp, and trembling — hovered inches above his stomach.
"Are you really going to take out the organ?" XiMei asked softly, her voice a mix of disbelief and compassion.
The girl stiffened. Her eyes, glassy with tears and sleeplessness, darted toward XiMei.
"Who are—"
"That shouldn't be right, you know?" XiMei said gently, stepping closer. Her eyes flicked to the man — his breathing shallow, his skin grayish with decay. Something dark was writhing beneath his flesh, faintly pulsing.
The girl's lips trembled, and she bit down hard, tasting her own blood. "What do you know?" she snapped, though her tone was more broken than angry.
XiMei tilted her head slightly. "Enough to know that you don't want to do this."
"I can help you."
The girl took a shaky step back, shaking her head violently. "You can't. I can't even free myself from the pact we made. Just—get out. It's for your own good."
She shoved XiMei, her frail strength barely moving her.
XiMei caught her wrist lightly, not with force but with presence. "But I'll try my best."
The girl's eyes dulled, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm nothing but a living corpse. Nothing you can do to help me."
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly, echoing the turmoil within.
XiMei looked at her — really looked.
She saw a soul weighed down, not by choice, but by chains unseen.
She thought briefly of her master — that merciless, iron-hearted man who trained her through agony and pain. 'When the helpless come before you, remember this: pity won't save them. But belief might.'
She steadied her breath.
"The others are waiting for me," XiMei murmured, half to herself. "We still have training... battles to win... strength to earn." Her fingers curled slightly, glowing faintly with soft blue light. "But that doesn't mean I'll leave someone behind."
"I'm only here to help you," she continued, her tone firmer now. "You don't need to talk about it. Just let me try."
The girl shook her head stubbornly. "I can't."
XiMei smiled faintly. "You can."
"I can't!"
"You can."
Their voices rose and fell — can't, can, can't — like two waves crashing against each other until finally, silence won.
The girl lowered her head in defeat, her shoulders trembling.
"I don't remember much," she whispered hoarsely. "But I know I'm bound by some pact. I don't know how... or why... but it's killing me."
"Shh." XiMei lifted a hand gently, her expression softening. "I'll take it from here."
The girl blinked, startled. "How...?"
"Just trust this jie, okay?" XiMei said with a reassuring smile.
For the first time, the girl's lips curved faintly. "Mo Xue," she murmured. "That's my name."
"Mo Xue," XiMei repeated, nodding. "Then follow my lead."
They sat across from each other on the cold, rune-marked floor, legs crossed, palms touching.
XiMei's hands were warm, faintly trembling with power; Mo Xue's were cold as river stones.
The candlelight flickered between them.
Outside, the battle raged somewhere far off, thunder echoing like distant war drums. But here, inside this forsaken place, there was only breath — and stillness.
XiMei closed her eyes.
The air thickened, shimmering faintly as her spirit power expanded outward.
Her mind brushed against the invisible veil that separated her thoughts from Mo Xue's.
It was like pressing her palms against glass, feeling sorrow on the other side.
Slowly, she inhaled and whispered,
"Empathy... commence."
Her consciousness sank, gently, into darkness —
into the echoes of another's pain.
And the moment their minds intertwined, she saw it:
A garden drenched in moonlight.
A black altar carved from bone.
And a figure — the same narrator, smiling with crimson eyes — pressing a blood-soaked contract against Mo Xue's trembling hand.
____
In the depths of XiMei's empathy vision, mist parted to reveal a world bright and alive.
The Dai Village shimmered beneath the golden dusk — the streets thrumming with laughter, with the cries of merchants hawking their wares, and the sharp scent of steamed buns that drifted through the air like incense from a temple.
Children ran barefoot through the puddles, their laughter a melody of innocence, while the clattering of pots, coins, and wooden carts built a rhythm that made the whole village feel alive.
Among the crowd walked Mo Xue, her white robes brushed with light dust from the road. Her eyes, dark and kind, gleamed like wet jade under the sun. She smiled faintly as she bought food from an old woman by the street — steamed buns that still smoked in the cool breeze.
"Thanks," she said softly, bowing her head in gratitude.
The old woman smiled, revealing wrinkled dimples. "You're a blessing to this street, child. Eat before it gets cold."
Mo Xue's smile deepened, her beauty quiet but disarming. She bit into the bun, savoring its warmth as the busy world moved around her — unaware of the storm that destiny was already weaving into her fate.
She was known to few and loved by fewer.
An orphan, taken in by a middle-aged physician who had found her abandoned near the riverbank years ago. She had called him father ever since.
"You should not call me that," he had always said gently, a hand on her head.
"Why?" she would laugh. "You're my parent now. My real parents are gone — but they didn't want me to be lonely, so they sent you to me. I should give you the title, right... father?"
And though he resisted at first, even the stoic man could not deny the warmth her words carried. Eventually, he accepted it.
He trained her. Guided her through the mysteries of medicine, herbs, and healing incantations.
Mo Xue learned fast — too fast. Within years, her name whispered through the streets like an early legend. The Young Physician of Dai Village, they called her, the girl who cured the incurable and smiled while doing so.
For a while, life was gentle.
She grew in peace, hidden behind the walls of her little clinic.
But beauty, in the mortal world, often calls disaster.
When Mo Xue stepped back into the streets at eighteen, people swore she had come from another realm. Her skin glowed like snow bathed in sunlight; her eyes were soft but deep, and her calm manner made even the rowdiest of men quiet.
Her fame spread like wildfire after she cured the Fever Plague that had claimed dozens of lives. Songs were sung about her. Young men began visiting her clinic not for medicine, but for glimpses.
Among them was Man Yue, the mayor's son.
At first, she thought nothing of him — a spoiled, smiling noble boy with too much perfume and too little sense. But his obsession festered quickly. He followed her through the market, left flowers at her door, and began to boast openly:
"She's mine. Mo Xue has agreed to be my lover."
At first, she ignored the rumors. Then, she denied them. Then, she began to feel the walls closing in. Every look, every whisper carried his name.
When the mayor himself called upon her one evening, saying his son had fallen gravely ill, she hesitated — but her duty as a healer prevailed.
"I'm just going to treat him," she told her apprentices. "He needs my help. Nothing more."
Her young assistants — girls she treated like sisters — had begged to go with her.
But she refused.
She didn't want them to see what awaited her.
The mayor's estate stood tall and shining at the edge of the village — too grand, too silent. When she entered, the air itself felt wrong.
Within minutes, she realized she had been trapped.
"If you walk out that door," Man Yue had hissed, his face a mask of arrogance and madness, "I'll make sure your dear father sees the sun again with only one leg."
The words were chains.
She stayed.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks to months.
Each morning she served tea, smiled on command, and treated his feigned illnesses — bruises that he inflicted himself just to keep her near.
At night, she lay awake staring at the ceiling, praying for strength.
When she was finally released, her heart had already begun to die.
She returned to her clinic, but whispers had taken root like poison vines.
"Mo Xue is lucky, spending time with her lover."
"She uses the excuse of medicine to be with him."
"What a lovely girl — loyal to her man."
Each rumor tore at her, and though she smiled faintly in public, inside she was unraveling. Even her patients began to look at her differently.
She went to the mayor himself, trembling with restrained fury.
"Your son has destroyed my name. Please, stop him."
The man had only chuckled. "That's how lovers behave, young one. Lovers fight, they make up. It will pass."
Her breath caught.
She realized she was alone.
The only people who believed her were her apprentices — her dear little sisters — who wept quietly when she locked herself in her chamber at night.
She decided to leave.
She would confront Man Yue one last time, then vanish from Dai Village forever.
Her letter was short, polite, and firm. Meet me at the river house. Let us end this.
But he saw it differently.
He thought she had finally accepted him.
When she entered his chamber that evening, his smile chilled her blood.
Before she could speak, his guards seized her arms.
"I want you to stop these rumors!" she cried, struggling. "You're ruining my life!"
"I'm the mayor's son," he said smoothly, circling her like a snake. "You could have anything — jewels, lands, peace. Why fight it?"
"I'm just uncomfortable with you around," she said through clenched teeth. "Stop hoping for what you'll never get."
He laughed softly. "Then learn to be comfortable."
The next few minutes dissolved into horror.
The room became a blur of movement, laughter, tearing fabric, and pain.
Her cries echoed against the tiled walls, unheard by the guards who watched and smirked.
By the time he was done, the moon was already high — and she lay there, broken and bloodied.
Before leaving, Man Yue leaned down and whispered, "You could have had love and protection. Now protect yourself."
He laughed, and so did his guards, their laughter twisting into the sound of demons.
That night, rain fell like knives.
Mo Xue crawled from the mansion, leaving streaks of red against the white stone.
By the riverbank, as her vision blurred and her breath thinned, the water began to move.
A voice rose from its depths — soft, melodic, almost divine.
"Poor soul," it said. "How they've hurt you."
Through the tears in XiMei's vision, she saw the figure: a man draped in liquid silver, his eyes too calm, his smile too kind.
Even now, XiMei's heart trembled — that voice was beautiful enough to make mortals weep.
"Help... me..." Mo Xue gasped, clutching the hem of his flowing robe.
"You want me to help you?" he asked, the words rippling like water itself.
Mo Xue nodded, her tears blending with the rain.
"Then," he said, tilting her chin up gently, "your life belongs to me."
And with that, he pressed a shimmering sigil onto her forehead — a circle that burned cold.
XiMei felt the shock, the pain, the surrender.
Mo Xue collapsed into his arms.
When she woke again, her body moved, her voice spoke — but her soul no longer belonged to her.
Every dawn, she felt weaker.
Every night, she could hear him whispering in her mind:
"My healer. My vessel. My song."
She had sold her life for salvation — and gained only eternal chains.
____
The air in the room was heavy — a stagnant mix of incense and the faint, metallic tang of old blood. Moonlight filtered weakly through the paper windows, tracing long, trembling lines across the floor where XiMei sat, eyes closed, her palms locked with Mo Xue's.
The empathy spell had drawn its full circle.
XiMei's consciousness drifted through darkness — through pain, through despair — until she saw it all: Mo Xue's fear, her humiliation, the night she was torn apart by both man and demon. The memories flashed like shards of glass, each one cutting deeper. The resentment… it was endless.
When XiMei's eyes opened again, her breath came short and sharp. The room felt colder. The moon itself seemed to recoil behind clouds.
"Your resentment," she said softly, "is the demon's strength."
Mo Xue blinked, disoriented, her voice trembling. "What?"
"You already know you're no longer alive," XiMei said, her tone carrying sorrow instead of judgment. "You were a doctor — you know what it means when the body bleeds for a full day and night. That morning you were gone, but the demon revived you. That's why your body moves, but your spirit... it's chained."
Mo Xue looked down at her trembling hands, her shadow flickering in the lamplight like smoke. "Then… I truly am just a walking corpse."
XiMei nodded slowly. "The only way to be free is to forgive what happened, and return to heaven. Only then can you await your next life."
Mo Xue's laugh cracked like dry leaves. "Forgive him? Forgive that man?" Her voice rose, bitter, raw. "He made my life a living hell. He ruined me. Why should I forgive him?"
XiMei's heart clenched. "Because holding onto that hatred keeps you here, bound to the one who destroyed you."
Mo Xue's tears gleamed faintly blue under the moonlight. "He almost made me take my own life…"
"That's why I'm proud," XiMei said quietly, leaning closer. "You didn't. You lived. You persisted, even when everything tried to end you. That strength is what gives you a chance — to ascend instead of vanish."
Mo Xue looked up, her lip trembling. "Would you forgive him, if you were in my place?"
XiMei froze. The candlelight quivered, throwing twin shadows across her face — one gentle, one dark. Her silence said enough.
"I thought so," Mo Xue murmured bitterly. "You wouldn't."
XiMei drew in a steady breath. "Maybe not… but I wouldn't kill anyone for revenge either."
Mo Xue looked startled.
"I've been through something close," XiMei confessed. "In my academy, I was mocked — called cursed because I practiced forbidden arts. Even my master… the dean… everyone turned against me."
"Are you happy now?" Mo Xue asked faintly.
"I wasn't," XiMei admitted, her voice softening. "Not until I met Elder Sister Wenli and Teacher LuPeng. They're my family now — and they're out there right now, risking their lives to save you, and everyone else trapped in this cursed village."
Mo Xue's expression wavered.
"You can't tell me you don't miss someone," XiMei pressed gently. "Your father, your workers… the little ones who looked up to you. They never blamed you, Mo Xue. They still wait for you."
Mo Xue's tears fell freely now. "He would have believed me… if I had told him," she whispered.
Outside, the wind began to stir — a whispering rush that carried the stench of something foul. XiMei's skin prickled. A dark wave of demonic energy was approaching fast.
She pressed her fingers to her temple, activating her communication spell. "Teacher LuPeng, Elder Sister — how's it going?"
A strained voice came through the shimmering rune. "Not so good," LuPeng replied between heavy breaths. "You?"
"She's… filled with grudges. It'll take longer than expected."
Wenli's voice cracked with humor through pain. "Just hurry, XiMei. You owe us breakfast, lunch, and dinner once this is over."
XiMei smiled faintly. "I will."
When the connection faded, she exhaled shakily. The demonic aura was closing in. She had to finish this — now.
Then Mo Xue spoke again, her voice trembling but resolute. "Promise me something."
XiMei looked up.
"Promise me," Mo Xue said, her eyes shining, "that no one else will suffer like I did. That love will never be forced. That the weak will be protected, and power will not be used to crush them. Promise me, or…" Her lips quivered into a tragic smile. "Or I'll crawl back from the underworld myself."
The words pierced through XiMei's chest like a spear.
She swallowed hard, voice breaking. "Mn," she whispered, nodding. "I promise."
Mo Xue's lips curved faintly — the ghost of a smile. "Then… I'll hold you to it."
She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely now. Her spirit shimmered — fragments of blue light rising from her skin like fireflies. The glow filled the room, brighter and brighter, until it painted the walls in hues of sapphire and gold.
Outside, the moon broke through the clouds, blessing her final release. The light scattered like petals on the wind.
Mo Xue was gone.
But her peace filled the air like incense.
XiMei barely had time to breathe before a deafening roar shook the earth. The doors burst open — and the demon stormed back in, his monstrous form glistening with water and fury. Behind him stumbled Wenli and LuPeng, both battered, their robes torn, blood soaking their sleeves.
"You made it!" Wenli gasped, collapsing beside the door.
"I'm okay," she tried to say — and then crumpled to the floor.
The demon's laughter was like thunder. "Fools! You think it ends here? My essence feeds on resentment — and your energy is already mine. Even now, your life fades."
XiMei stood, her legs trembling. The last of her strength burned low, but her promise echoed like a vow in her veins. She reached for the interspatial ring on her finger, pulling forth her blade — a slender dagger that shimmered faintly with blue runes.
"Master," she whispered, "please… lend me your strength."
The blade pulsed in answer, glowing faintly as her purple aura flared to life. The air shuddered around her.
"I'll never forgive what you did to that poor girl," she said, voice low, steady, trembling with rage. "You couldn't even let her die in peace!"
Her eyes burned violet as she charged.
"Go to hell!"
The room erupted in light. Her dagger extended like a streak of lightning, plunging through the demon's heart. One after another, she struck the hidden cores of his power — ribs, chest, shadow, spine — each blow searing with righteous fury.
The demon screamed, his voice turning from laughter to horror. His form withered, collapsing inward until nothing remained but a heap of gray ash and the faint scent of salt water.
XiMei staggered, gasping. The violet light in her eyes dimmed as she dropped beside her fallen friends. From her ring, she drew out three vials of luminous elixir — stolen from her master's stores, knowing she would one day need them.
"Drink," she ordered softly, handing one to each of them.
Wenli groaned as she swallowed hers, then looked up weakly. "Don't ever… act so scary again."
XiMei chuckled through her exhaustion. "No promises."
The three sat there — drenched, bruised, but alive — as the village's first dawn in weeks began to rise. The soft gold light spilled over the ruins, painting the sky with a faint promise of peace.
They didn't need to speak. Each had their own thoughts, their own silent prayer. But they shared one truth in their hearts:
If they could win this,
then the rest of their path — however dark —
was worth walking together.