Crossing the river of shadows, the world shifted once again.
Before them stood a ruined palace. Its walls were fractured, beams half-collapsed, shards of glazed tiles floating in the air as if time itself had frozen.Inside, silence reigned. Each step echoed endlessly, as though they had entered a realm abandoned by life.
Ye Lan advanced with her sword drawn, eyes cold and vigilant. She disliked such silence—silence always concealed danger.
Luo Mingyao followed, silver eyes reflecting fragments of the broken hall. Softly, she murmured,"This place feels less like illusion… and more like memory."
Ye Lan glanced at her. "Yours?"
The corner of Luo Mingyao's lips curved faintly. "Perhaps yours."
A sharp scoff slipped from Ye Lan's throat, yet her stride faltered.On a crumbling wall, a half-destroyed mural lingered—its figure blurred, but the outline of its face was eerily familiar, echoing her own.
Her chest tightened. With a flick of her wrist, she raised her sword to destroy it—but Luo Mingyao's hand intercepted her.
"Why not see it clearly?" she asked quietly.
Ye Lan's gaze was ice. "Unnecessary."
Their eyes locked. For an instant, the air thickened between them. Luo Mingyao's lips curved, as though amused—yet her expression was unreadable, half test, half control.
Suddenly, the palace quaked. Walls split apart, and from the shadows emerged stone statues. Their faces were blank, their aura chilling, broken halberds in hand as they marched forward.
Ye Lan's blade turned with a hiss. "At last."
She strode forward—only to find the space behind her empty. Luo Mingyao was gone.
Her heart lurched, qi surging like fire. Spinning back, she caught a glimpse of a silver sleeve deep within the mist, separated by shifting veils of light.
"Ye Lan—"The voice reached her, faint and distant, as though echoing from mountains away.
Ye Lan's aura flared, yin and yang colliding violently. She despised isolation—yet more unbearable was the gnawing unease rising in her chest.
She plunged into the mist.Stone steps twisted into a maze, bending space itself. Each stride brought her closer, yet Luo Mingyao's figure receded further, untouchable.
Her voice cut through clenched teeth: "Luo Mingyao, dare you toy with me?"
But what she refused to admit—even to herself—was the true reason for her fury: it was not the illusion that unsettled her, but the possibility of losing her.
From the depths of the fog, Luo Mingyao's voice floated back, steady, unwavering:"If you waver, the realm devours you. If you trust me—you will find the way."
Ye Lan halted, her blade trembling in the mist.
She had never trusted anyone.But this time—she raised her sword, slashed through the choking fog, and forced her way toward the faint figure of white.
When at last their shadows converged again, Ye Lan's words were cold, edged with steel:"If you ever betray me—I will kill you first."
Luo Mingyao's lips curved faintly, her voice a whisper like silk:"Is that your trust?"
Ye Lan's eyes narrowed, but she gave no reply.
Moonlight streamed through the shattered dome, casting their overlapping shadows upon the fractured stone steps, bound together beneath the twin moons.