The moment Lu Xuan rose, the summit trembled.
Mirror tiles cracked beneath his feet, flaring with ghostlight. His breath wasn't shallow—it was precise, too calm. From behind him, the remnants of Su Xue's protective seal shimmered with unstable strands.
His spiritual symbol flared once—then folded inward.
Ash began to fall.
Not from the sky.
From his body.
A low rumble echoed across the summit as Lu Xuan's hair turned white—slowly, strand by strand, like frost staining the air. Red light burned from his eyes, not just gleaming—glowing, pupils gone, orbs of molten power.
His chest expanded, and his qi surged outward in waves.
"Immortal Demon God Body…" Su Xue murmured, hand trembling over her seal.
"Level One: Eternal Ember."
The transformation wasn't graceful. It was seismic.
Cracks snaked through the summit ground as embers curled around his limbs, dancing up his sword arm. The spiritual symbol hovering behind him changed shape—now crowned with spiral flame and black lines etched through its edges.
Imperial Flame Monks charged forward.
Ten of them.
High Nascent Soul. Twin-blade bearers. Their armor pulsed with mirrored deflection marks, and each carried a Soul Thread Dagger—capable of slicing qi lines mid-flow.
They encircled Lu Xuan.
Their leader cried:
"Target the soul threads! Sever before his next breakthrough!"
Lu Xuan stepped once.
Not forward.
Down.
His footprint snapped the summit tile—and from beneath it rose a geyser of dormant blood-qi.
He pivoted.
Then struck.
The Unnamed Sword materialized like a ripple in fate—black hilt, silver edge, pulsing with forbidden memory.
One slash.
Two monks collapsed, their souls devoured mid-scream.
Not pierced.
Consumed.
The circle broke.
Su Xue activated a defensive spiral, forming a half-shell of spiritual resistance to shield the remaining Celestial Dawn elders.
But Lu Xuan didn't flinch.
He turned again—his blade passed through a monk's weapon, disintegrating it into ash.
The monk screamed.
Not because he died.
But because his name began to vanish from the mirror tiles.
"His devour bypasses life," Su Xue whispered.
"He's absorbing memory resonance directly."
Four more monks fell.
One tried to flee—but the spiritual symbol trailing Lu Xuan pulsed, and the escaping qi bent—dragged back into him.
He exhaled.
And broke.
His soul core cracked once.
Then flared—white, violet, and crimson lines spiraling.
The world around him stilled.
And he ascended.
Not with celebration.
With silence.
Lu Xuan had reached the Soul Ascension Realm.
The summit wasn't ready.
Then came Emperor Zhao Rui.
He strode from the upper corridor, robes torn, qi surging with ancestral symbols. His aura pressed like thunderclouds—Early Dao Ascension, layered with mirror seals and imperial flame inscriptions.
Behind him floated two mirrored obelisks—constructs that reflected enemy strikes three seconds before they happened.
"You killed my monks," Zhao said.
"And you walk like myth. But you were made in error."
"You built a summit of lies," Lu Xuan replied.
"I became the flame you tried to end."
The battle began like memory unraveling.
Zhao Rui launched twin flame spears wrapped in echo-seal binding. They spiraled midair and curved around Lu Xuan's sword—calculating his intent before impact.
But Lu Xuan closed his eyes.
And stood still.
His sword didn't deflect.
It unraveled time.
The spears shattered.
Zhao triggered the obelisks.
They turned red—and began pulling qi lines from Lu Xuan's aura.
"I'll erase you from fate," Zhao roared.
"Then I'll devour the ink," Lu Xuan answered.
He sprinted—body flickering through the broken mirror field. Every tile he touched cracked. The obelisks surged, firing delayed soul echoes.
But Su Xue stepped forward.
Her seal burned gold.
She flicked two threads forward—intercepting the echo waves and reversing their calculation midair.
"I'm not sealing you," she shouted.
"I'm shielding the world from your backlash!"
Lu Xuan turned once.
Their eyes met.
Just briefly.
Then he struck.
Zhao summoned his Phoenix Halberd, swinging it wide in crescent arcs.
Each blow fractured the spirit barrier.
But Lu Xuan moved faster.
His sword pulled forward—glowing now with the flame of devoured monks.
It clashed with the halberd.
Once.
Twice.
Then—cracked it.
Zhao fell backward.
Blood from the emperor's shoulder hit the summit ground and twisted upward—absorbed into Lu Xuan's spiritual symbol.
He didn't hesitate.
He advanced.
Su Xue activated a containment seal—binding his demon aura just enough to slow his pace.
"You'll Burst," she warned.
"You're burning too fast."
"I'm burning the lie," he growled.
The final clash came fast.
Zhao tried to seal his own soul inside a mirror construct.
But Lu Xuan raised the Unnamed Sword—and with Su Xue's final seal pulse—he struck through the construct.
It shattered.
And the emperor fell.
Not in fire.
But in ash.
Silence returned.
Su Xue lowered her seal.
Her face was pale. Her aura flickering.
Lu Xuan stood still, red eyes hollow, hair streaming white behind him.
"You devoured him," Su Xue said.
"He tried to erase me."
"I didn't help you win," she whispered.
"I helped you become what I swore to seal."
His fingers tightened.
His blade pulsed once.
He didn't look at her.
Not really.
"Then seal me again," he said.
"If you still think I deserve it."
Su Xue turned away.
But her eyes… didn't forget.