The rain didn't stop. It fell in cold sheets across the jagged peaks of the Wailing Hills, turning the rocks slick with mud and ash. Lightning split the sky, casting eerie flashes of light over the narrow cliff trail where Jiang Chen stood, his robes soaked, his expression locked in a storm of its own.
Lady Wu stepped beside him, her cloak drawn tightly over her shoulders. "Are you sure about this?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the wind.
"No," Jiang Chen muttered. "But we don't have a choice."
Beneath them, tucked into a narrow cave lit by sickly green flames, waited Xiao Feng—the traitorous demonic cultivator who once served under Liu Yan… and barely survived to regret it.
The man they were about to meet had torn apart sects, bled villages dry, and supposedly bathed in the blood of cultivators during the Eclipse Wars. And now, he was their only hope.
"Let's go," Jiang Chen said, and together, they descended into darkness.
The cave stank of rot and sulfur. Carvings of screaming faces lined the walls—some warped, some shockingly human. As they entered the inner chamber, a low chuckle echoed around them, bouncing unnaturally against the stone.
"You brought the woman," came a voice—smooth, silky, laced with venom. "That's unexpected. I figured you'd come alone. Foolishly heroic, like your master before you."
Jiang Chen's hand hovered over his sword hilt. "Show yourself, Xiao Feng."
From the shadows emerged a figure draped in blood-red robes, his eyes burning with demonic light. His smile revealed too many teeth, and his presence crackled with barely restrained power. The air around him felt… wrong. Warped.
"Still so tense," Xiao Feng purred. "Relax. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have made it past the first carving."
Lady Wu stepped forward, eyes sharp. "Cut the theatrics. We didn't come for riddles."
Xiao Feng's smile widened. "Ah, Wu Meiyun. The cunning thorn of the Phoenix Sect. Last I heard, you tried to assassinate Liu Yan with a poisoned fan."
"I missed on purpose," she replied coolly. "I wanted him to suffer longer."
That drew a low laugh from Xiao Feng. "You'll fit right in."
Jiang Chen stepped between them. "Enough games. We need your help to get inside Liu Yan's fortress. You know its wards, its patterns, its blind spots. Help us, and you get what you want—revenge."
Xiao Feng's eyes gleamed. "You assume revenge is what I want most."
"Isn't it?"
Xiao Feng was silent for a moment, studying Jiang Chen as if peeling away the layers of his soul. Then he turned, his robe sweeping behind him like smoke. "He betrayed me," he said finally. "Promised me immortality. Promised I'd be his right hand in the new world. And then… left me to die at the altar I helped him build. Said I was too 'human' to ascend."
He spat the last word like poison.
"I crawled from the ritual pit with half a face and no soul," Xiao Feng hissed. "But I found something in the dark. And now, I want him to choke on it."
Lady Wu glanced at Jiang Chen. "Do we trust him?"
"No," Jiang Chen said. "But he hates Liu Yan. That's enough—for now."
Xiao Feng grinned. "Wise. Here's what you need to know."
He waved a hand, and a map unfurled in midair, made of shadow and blood. "Liu Yan's stronghold sits atop a leyline nexus corrupted by demonic influence. He's built it like a living thing—shifting walls, breathing corridors. The wards are sentient. You can't just walk in."
"Then how do we get in?" Lady Wu asked.
"There's a forgotten vein that runs beneath the fortress," Xiao Feng said. "A sewer tunnel carved by the old sects before Liu Yan claimed the land. It's guarded by wraiths and crawling things he doesn't bother controlling anymore. Too beneath him."
Jiang Chen narrowed his eyes. "How do you know it's still there?"
"Because I built it," Xiao Feng said simply.
Silence fell.
"And why are you really helping us?" Lady Wu asked.
Xiao Feng stepped closer. "Because I want to be there when he begs. I want him to see my face before I take his eyes."
Jiang Chen clenched his jaw. "Then we have a deal. But the moment you cross us—"
"I'll be dead," Xiao Feng finished, smile fading. "Fair enough."
He extended his hand. Jiang Chen took it. A cold, binding pulse passed between them—a pact sealed, fragile and foul.
As they turned to leave the cave, Xiao Feng's voice drifted after them. "Tell me, cultivator… are you prepared to see what Liu Yan has become? The palace is no longer made of stone and steel. It's made of pain. Built from the screams of the people he's consumed."
Jiang Chen didn't answer.
But deep in his chest, something heavy curled.