Diexin's eyes narrow.
A thought slices through the chaos.
Is the woman targeting her because of this face?
She had changed it when she abandoned the name Yu Diexin and took on the identity of Cai Wenji, smoothing features, altering contours, burying her past beneath another skin.
Very few should be able to see through it.
The woman tightens the whip again.
Diexin does not hesitate.
She snaps her leg sideways, a brutal kick driven by her hips and core, slamming into the woman's ribs.
The grip breaks.
The whip loosens.
Using the momentum of the kick, Diexin twists her body and flings herself backwards, rolling through the air before landing hard on her feet several paces away.
Leaves scatter.
She straightens instantly, sword raised, eyes locked on her opponent.
"Who are you?" Diexin demands.
The woman answers with motion.
The whip cracks forward, snapping toward Diexin's neck.
Diexin ducks, the leather hissing past her ear, then shifts again as the whip lashes low, tearing a shallow groove through the soil where her foot had been.
She retreats two steps, then suddenly erupts.
Her heel slams into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust as she sprints sideways.
She plants one foot against a tree trunk, uses it as a spring, and launches herself forward.
Her body arcs through the air.
Her sword flashes.
The strike comes straight down toward the woman's head.
The woman jerks back at the last instant.
Steel bites flesh.
The blade slices across her cheek.
Blood beads, then spills.
The woman staggers a step, hand flying to her face, fingers coming away red.
For a heartbeat, the forest is silent.
Then she looks up.
Hatred twists her expression into something feral.
"Diexin," she says slowly, venom dripping from every syllable, "I am going to call you."
The sound of her real name hits harder than any blow.
Diexin freezes for the briefest instant.
The whip screams through the air.
Instinct saves her.
She twists aside, the strike grazing her sleeve instead of her throat, tearing cloth.
Her heart pounds.
Her mind races.
Only one person from Shen Ling's side would dare speak her name with such certainty.
As they clash again, steel ringing, whip snapping, memory sharpens into recognition.
The posture.
The eyes.
The voice.
Ren Yao.
Hatred floods Diexin's veins, hot and blinding.
Her voice turns cold, every word carved from steel.
"Before killing Shen Ling," she says, "I will kill you."
Something shifts.
Diexin feels it immediately.
The invisible pressure pressing down on her body loosens, then fractures, then shatters.
Spiritual energy surges.
The suppression is gone.
The array has been turned off.
Ren Yao senses it too.
She smiles, slow and cruel.
"Oh," Ren Yao says softly, "you have recognised me."
The words hang between them, sharp as drawn steel.
The forest seems to inhale.
Diexin feels it first, not as a sudden surge, but as a slow, creeping warmth spreading through her limbs.
The invisible pressure that had weighed down her body begins to thin, like fog burned away by morning light.
Her meridians stir.
Her dantian responds with a faint pulse.
Spiritual energy is returning.
Ren Yao's eyes narrow slightly as she senses it too.
The whip in her hand hums faintly, resonating as spiritual power trickles back into her body.
They move at the same time.
Diexin steps in, sword flashing, her strike carrying more weight than before.
Ren Yao answers with a snapping arc of her whip, the weapon bending unnaturally as it curves around the blade.
Metal rings.
Leather cracks.
The clash sends ripples of energy through the air, scattering leaves and snapping twigs underfoot.
Their movements quicken.
What had been a brutal, grounded exchange becomes sharper, faster, more precise.
Each strike now carries intent shaped by cultivation, not just muscle and instinct.
Diexin presses forward, her footwork lightening as her body remembers its true limits.
Ren Yao counters smoothly, her whip dancing in widening arcs, controlling distance, forcing Diexin to adjust with every step.
The battle settles into a tense stalemate.
Neither gains ground.
Sword and whip clash again and again, sparks flashing as spiritual energy brushes against steel.
Diexin's strikes are clean and direct, cutting lines through the air.
Ren Yao's attacks are fluid and deceptive, her whip striking from angles that force Diexin to twist, duck, and retreat.
Their breathing remains controlled, eyes locked, minds calculating.
Gradually, the flow of energy strengthens.
Diexin feels her cultivation climb back into place, stabilising at the second tier of spiritual refining.
Her movements sharpen instantly.
Her sword feels lighter, her reactions faster, her strength more responsive.
She surges.
Her blade breaks through Ren Yao's defence, grazing her shoulder and drawing a thin line of blood.
Ren Yao clicks her tongue and retreats half a step, eyes flashing with irritation.
The balance shifts.
Diexin begins to dictate the rhythm, her attacks coming in tighter sequences, forcing Ren Yao to retreat more often than she advances.
But the forest does not favour hesitation.
Ren Yao's aura suddenly flares.
Her spiritual energy swells, denser, darker, coiling around her like smoke.
Her cultivation surges past the second tier's threshold and stabilises at its peak.
The pressure rolls outward, bending leaves and cracking bark.
Diexin's eyes sharpen.
A heartbeat later, her own cultivation responds.
Her dantian opens fully.
Energy floods through her meridians in a clean, powerful rush.
Third tier.
Not its peak, but enough.
The forest trembles subtly as both women fully reclaim themselves.
They collide again, harder this time.
Ren Yao's whip snaps forward with explosive force, forcing Diexin to block instead of evade.
The impact rattles her arm, driving her back several steps.
Diexin exhales, steadying herself, then lifts her sword.
Her aura changes.
The spiritual energy around her shifts in nature, lighter, sharper, tinged with a faint, iridescent hue.
She raises her free hand and forms a seal.
"Butterfly Wing Blade."
The air behind her ripples.
A pair of luminous butterfly wings unfurl from her back, formed entirely of condensed spiritual energy.
Their edges gleam like blades, veins glowing with swirling poison qi.
The wings beat once.
Diexin rises off the ground.
Leaves explode outward as a shockwave spreads beneath her feet.
Ren Yao's eyes widen.
The wings move again, blurring, and countless thin blades of poisoned qi scatter forward in a storm.
Ren Yao reacts instantly, whip spinning into a defensive web, but the attack is too sudden, too dense.
Several blades slip through.
They strike her shoulder, her thigh, her side.
Pain erupts.
Ren Yao is flung backwards, smashing into a tree with a thunderous crack.
Bark explodes.
The trunk bends under the impact.
Dust and splinters fill the air.
Diexin lands lightly, wings dissolving into drifting motes of light behind her.
She steps forward, sword ready.
The dust settles.
Ren Yao pushes herself upright.
Her clothes are torn.
Blood stains her side, her arm, her cheek.
Poison qi lingers around the wounds, hissing faintly as it eats into her flesh.
Yet she stands.
Her eyes burn with fury.
Before Diexin can advance, movement flashes at the edge of her vision.
Two masked figures rush forward, positioning themselves between Diexin and Ren Yao, blades raised in defensive stance.
Behind them, more masked figures fan out, surrounding Diexin from multiple directions.
Steel glints through the trees.
The forest tightens around her once more.
Diexin moves.
Spiritual energy floods into her sword, the blade humming as qi wraps around it in a thin, lethal sheen.
At the same time, the faint outline of butterfly wings flickers behind her back, not fully manifesting, but enough to lend her bursts of terrifying speed.
She vanishes from where she stands.
A masked figure swings and cuts nothing but air.
Diexin reappears at his side, her sword flashing past his ribs.
Blood sprays.
She does not stop.
She weaves through the attackers like a drifting shadow, feet barely touching the ground, wings beating in sharp pulses that send her surging forward again and again.
A slash opens a thigh.
A thrust pierces a shoulder.
A backhand cut tears across a neck, shallow but precise.
She does not linger to finish them.
Wounds slow.
Wounds break formation.
Wounds spread fear.
The masked figures try to surround her, but their ring fractures as she cuts through it repeatedly, slipping between blades with impossible timing.
Her movements are fluid, ruthless, efficient, every strike calculated to cripple rather than waste effort.
One attacker lunges from behind.
The wings flare.
Diexin twists midair, spinning, her sword carving a crescent of qi that sends him crashing into a tree with a sickening crack.
Leaves rain down.
In the distance, Ren Yao forces herself upright.
She watches, disbelief flickering across her blood-smeared face.
Third tier.
In just three years.
Her fingers tighten.
She knows what that means.
Diexin is no longer someone she can kill with preparation and advantage alone.
To force a victory now, she would have to gamble everything, her cultivation, her foundation, her life.
Ren Yao feels the poison qi gnawing inside her meridians, spreading slowly, stubbornly resisting suppression.
Her jaw clenches.
She does not want to die.
While Diexin cuts down another attacker, Ren Yao turns.
She runs.
She forces spiritual energy through her body, suppressing the poison qi with brute control as she plunges deeper into the forest, footsteps light, breath tight and controlled.
Minutes pass.
Her pace slows.
The poison resists harder the longer she moves, flaring whenever her circulation accelerates.
Her chest tightens.
Her limbs ache.
She finally stops beside a thick, ancient tree, pressing one hand against the bark as she exhales sharply.
Her vision swims.
Grinding her teeth, she sits and closes her eyes.
Spiritual energy coils inward as she begins refining the poison qi, isolating it thread by thread, grinding it down with careful, patient control.
Sweat beads on her brow.
Time crawls.
Gradually, the pain dulls.
Just as she stabilises her breathing, a sound reaches her ears.
Footsteps.
Voices, distant but approaching.
Ren Yao's eyes snap open.
A thought sparks.
Slowly, a smile curls across her lips.
Deep within her dantian, something stirs.
The Mirage Demon.
Its presence unfurls, slippery and insidious, spreading through her meridians like ink in water.
Illusory energy wraps around her body, responding eagerly to her intent.
Her form begins to change.
Bones shift subtly.
Contours soften.
Muscles rearrange.
Her height lowers slightly.
Her shoulders narrow.
Her clothes ripple and reshape, fabric darkening, stitching altering, colours fading into those of Diexin's.
Her face transforms last.