The dungeon of the Purple Mist Sacred Land was dark and fetid, its air heavy with dampness and decay. A lone torch sputtered on the wall, its weak flame casting more shadow than light. Chains clinked faintly as Ye Fan shifted against the wall, his once-handsome face haggard, his eyes bloodshot but still burning with stubborn fire.
The Immortal Slayer Sword slept between his brows, his last and only trump card.
"Master Lingyu…" Ye Fan whispered hoarsely, clutching his knees. "Just a little longer. Once you recover, we'll tear this place apart. No one can cage me forever."
The faint pulse of warmth in his mind, the fragile presence of the sword spirit, was all he had left.
But then—
Tap.Tap.Tap.
Footsteps echoed down the dungeon corridor, unhurried yet heavy as thunder in Ye Fan's ears. He stiffened, eyes narrowing toward the flickering light at the end of the passage.
Two figures appeared.
The first was a young man in black-gold robes, his bearing noble, his gaze relaxed, almost amused. Even in the gloom, his presence radiated like a sun piercing through storm clouds.
Xiao Tian.
Beside him walked a woman in a pale purple robe, her long black hair tied back with a jade clasp. It was none other than Meng Luan.
Ye Fan's pupils shrank. His teeth ground together. "You…!" His voice cracked into a hoarse snarl. "What are you doing here?! Come to gloat?"
Xiao Tian didn't even glance at him. His eyes drifted lazily across the prison before landing on Ye Fan with the faintest curl of his lips.
"I'm not here for you," he said calmly. "I'm here for your master."
Ye Fan's heart froze.
"…!"
That secret—his greatest card—exposed with a single sentence. Panic, disbelief, and despair warred in his chest. "I-I don't know what you're talking about…" he stammered, fists trembling.
Xiao Tian's smile deepened, as if savoring the sight of a mouse scrambling in a trap. "Don't bother. The Immortal Slayer Sword rests inside your body, and within it… the remnant soul of a sword spirit. Every so-called miracle you've achieved was her strength, not yours. Do you think you can hide that from me?"
Even Meng Luan's brow arched faintly, though she said nothing. Her hand never left her blade.
Ye Fan's face went pale. His breath quickened, fury and fear twisting his expression.
From his brow, crimson light surged. Slowly, it took shape—the figure of a woman, ethereal and faint, her beauty breathtaking despite her weakened state. She floated lightly before Ye Fan, her voice like flowing water.
"…Your Highness," the sword spirit Lingyu said softly, her gaze calm. "Why disturb me? This matter has nothing to do with you."
Xiao Tian cupped his hands slightly, his smile flawless. "Senior's existence alone is worthy of respect. I would not disturb you without purpose."
Her brows knit faintly. "…Then state it."
Xiao Tian's tone grew smoother, sharper beneath the silk.
"Three thousand Dao Domains, tens of thousands of sects rise and fall. Yet who remains above all? My Heavenly Sword City. We gather the world's greatest blades. Even the Sword Emperor himself once rose from our halls. Tell me, Senior—what future awaits you tied to this reckless boy? To wither away, drained of strength until even your soul scatters?"
His words struck like thunder in the silence.
Lingyu's expression wavered for the first time. Heavenly Sword City—the dream of every sword under heaven. To cultivate amidst that sea of blades, to regain the majesty she once held… the yearning in her eyes betrayed her thoughts.
Ye Fan staggered forward, voice breaking. "No! Don't listen to him, Master! He only wants to steal you away!" His nails bit into his palms until blood ran. "Xiao Tian, first you stole my chance, now you covet even my master?! You shameless—!"
"Silence."
The single cold word came from Meng Luan. Her voice was like frost, slicing across the dungeon. Ye Fan's throat clenched shut.
She stepped closer to Xiao Tian, her stance protective, her expression unreadable. Her very presence made Ye Fan feel like an insect squealing before a predator.
Xiao Tian chuckled softly, as if the outburst amused him. He looked back to Lingyu. "You see? He only consumes you. That is why you are so weak now, isn't it?"
Lingyu's silence was heavy. She did not deny it.
Xiao Tian pressed gently, each word honey over steel. "If you truly care for her, you should allow her to follow me. I can give her the resources to restore herself. I can grant her the recognition of Heavenly Sword City. I can make her shine again. Is rotting away in this dungeon alongside you really what's best for her?"
The weight of his words filled the chamber.
Finally, Lingyu sighed. "Your Highness… I cannot abandon Ye Fan. Our bond remains. I cannot accept your offer… for now."
For now.
That was enough.
Xiao Tian smiled, eyes glinting. "Of course. I would never force Senior. But your soul is weak. Take this, as a gift."
From his sleeve, he flicked out a porcelain vial. It rolled across the stone floor and stopped at Lingyu's feet. Within, the Three Yuan Soul-Concentrating Liquid shimmered faintly, radiating pure spiritual energy.
Without waiting for thanks, Xiao Tian turned, his robes sweeping behind him. "Let's go, Meng Luan."
She gave Ye Fan one last, frigid glance before following, her figure vanishing into the shadows alongside him.
Ye Fan collapsed back against the wall, his chest heaving. The vial glimmered mockingly in the dim light. His master hovered silently, her eyes unreadable.
Hatred boiled inside him until it felt like his body would split apart.
"Xiao Tian… I'll make you regret this!"
His roar echoed off the dungeon walls, raw and broken.
But outside, Xiao Tian's chuckle drifted softly in the night air.