The palace trembled.
Not from an attack.Not from the Night Emperor.
From her.
Lin Yue stood in the Moon-Spirit Chamber, a training hall created for one purpose: breaking cultivators in half so they could become stronger. It was carved from obsidian and lunar quartz, every inch humming with ancient arrays.
Xuan Mo watched her steadily.
"Again."
She exhaled and extended her hand.
A strand of moonlight formed.
Thin.Shaky.But undeniably real.
A Lunar Thread.Summoned by her, not borrowed.
The air crackled.
Xuan Mo's eyes sharpened. "Mortals cannot do that."
"Apparently I can," she said through clenched teeth.
The thread wobbled like a drunk spider web.
"Control it," he ordered.
"I am trying," she snapped, "but your cultivation technique is basically an emotional trauma simulator—"
The thread snapped.A shockwave blasted backward.
Xuan Mo moved.
In an instant, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as the lunar backlash shattered the floor around them like glass.
When the dust settled, he didn't release her.
"You are resonating too strongly," he murmured against her ear. "Your soul is expanding faster than your foundation can handle."
"Is that bad?" she asked weakly.
"It is catastrophic."
She blinked. "For… me?"
"For the world."
He finally let go, stepping back with the restraint of a man who wanted to drag her closer again.
"Lin Yue. If your soul breaks under the pressure of the Lunar Path…"
The walls flickered with volatile energy.
"…it will take half the realm with it."
She stared at him.
He stared at her.
"…So no pressure," she said.
Xuan Mo closed his eyes. "You are the single most frustrating anomaly I have ever encountered."
"Thank you," she said brightly.
"That was not praise."
"It sounded like praise."
He looked to the heavens as if praying for patience from gods who had already quit.