The blood-drenched mist churned as Qing'er's sword carved through her enemies.
She didn't think—she moved.
Each step was precise. Each slash carried intent. No wasted motion. No hesitation.
But the crazed cultivators were relentless. For every one she struck down, another emerged from the mist. Endless. Unyielding.
Her breathing grew ragged. Her arms ached.
"Yao Yan!" she called, barely blocking a twin-sword strike.
He remained floating above, watching. Testing her.
"Still alive, I see," he mused.
Qing'er gritted her teeth. "Not helping!"
Yao Yan smirked. "I'm only waiting for you to realize something important."
She frowned. What is he talking about?
A blade whistled toward her. She parried, but too slow—
A deep cut appeared on her arm.
Pain.
Blood.
Her mind wavered for an instant.
And in that instant—a spear aimed for her heart.
I won't make it!
But before it could pierce her—her body moved on its own.
A second Qing'er appeared beside her, intercepting the strike.
A perfect duplicate. Her own sword—split into another form.
She gasped. What—?!
Yao Yan laughed. "Finally! Took you long enough."
Qing'er realized what had happened. She had instinctively activated Yao Yan's ability—the power to duplicate.
Now, standing beside her, her mirrored self gripped a sword identical to hers.
For the first time in battle—she was not alone.
A fierce smile spread across her lips.
"Let's end this."
The battle turned.