Nestled within a valley shrouded in mist and ancient pines, the secluded Fang Clan village lay in tranquil slumber beneath the watchful gaze of a silver moon. The mortals who called this village home slept peacefully, unaware of the enigmatic presence hidden at its heart.
Deep within the Immortal Fang Forest, an anomaly existed—an endless expanse of youthful pine trees stretching skyward, their emerald needles brushing the heavens.
Yet, to the villagers, this mystical grove remained imperceptible.
To their mortal eyes, there was no sacred forest—only a towering bronze statue of their revered founder standing at the northern edge of the ring surrounding it in the middle of the village square, a silent guardian cast in metal.
But from above, a different truth revealed itself. The village had not been built in a simple clearing but formed a perfect ring encircling the primeval forest. At its core, the colossal statue, rising an awe-inspiring fifty to sixty stories high, stood as the keystone linking the village together. It gazed forward into the mist-laden valley, where the land stretched beyond the horizon, vanishing into the unknown.
Lian Xue's breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as she pushed herself up, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. Every movement sent sharp pangs of pain rippling through her body, the sting of scorched flesh burning beneath her tattered robes.
The air was thick—heavy with the acrid stench of burnt wood, sweat, and the remnants of their battle.
This strange village embodied a paradox—where the wisdom of the old converged with the vigor of the new.
The ancient pines, gnarled and knowing, whispered their secrets to the young saplings that reached toward the sky, as if locked in an eternal dialogue between past and future. Amid this fusion of history and growth, the village remained timeless, an enigma suspended between legacy and change.
Huff. Huff.
Huff.
Lian Xue's breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as she pushed herself up, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. Every movement sent sharp pangs of pain rippling through her body, the sting of scorched flesh burning beneath her tattered robes. The air was suffocating—thick with the acrid stench of burnt wood, sweat, and the remnants of their battle.
And then—she heard him.
"It seems… that I'm having another wave of Qi deviation. And thanks to you, Meng has already run away~"
Her blood ran cold.
Her gaze snapped to Fang Lee, her vision still blurred by fatigue, but the sight before her sent a wave of nausea rolling through her.
His bare body stood in the dim light, the raw burns across his chest, back, and left palm stark against his skin. Yet, despite the clear pain he should have been feeling, he carried himself with that same unsettling arrogance—as if none of it mattered.
And then—
Thud!
Before she could react, a force slammed into her, sending her back-first against the wooden wall. The impact rattled through her battered body, knocking the breath from her lungs.
A hand closed around her throat—firm, unyielding.
Fang Lee's face hovered dangerously close, his breath warm against her skin as his fingers tightened slightly, holding her in place.
"You brought this upon yourself," he murmured, his voice low, unreadable. His grip remained steady, neither crushing nor relenting, as if waiting for her next move.
Pain still burned through her body, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging inside her mind. She could barely process what had just happened—the battle, the humiliation, Meng's escape, and now this.
Fang Lee's grip was firm, his body close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off his battered skin. His green eyes bore into hers, waiting—expecting resistance.
But she didn't fight.
Not because she lacked the strength. Not because she was afraid.
But because, in that moment, a terrible realization settled over her like a crushing weight.
She had already lost.
Not just the battle. Everything.
Her pride, her trust, the fragile hope that she had meant more to him than this cruel game. It had all been shattered, scattered like embers in the wind.
And yet, despite the scorn in his words, despite the way he had so effortlessly dismissed her, he had still pinned her here.
Still held her in place.
Still looked at her with that same piercing intensity, as if daring her to break.
If she truly meant nothing, he wouldn't have bothered.
Wouldn't have fought her so fiercely. Wouldn't have held her gaze so intently, as though searching for something.
Was that all she was to him now?
A challenge? A fleeting distraction? A moment of defiance he sought to crush beneath his will?
Was this the only way she could reach him?
A hollow ache spread through her chest, deeper and sharper than the pain of her burns.
She had nothing left.
Empty. Exhausted.
It wasn't fair. It was never fair.
No matter how hard she fought or how much she endured, the outcome was always the same—she lost.
Her fingers twitched at her sides. A single, shallow breath escaped her lips. Then—slowly, deliberately—she lifted her hand.
Hesitantly.
She placed it on his arm.
His muscles tensed beneath her touch—a flicker of surprise. He hadn't expected this.
"I'll take care of your Qi deviation… L-Let's move onto the bed."