Zhu Xian stepped back.
The sand shifted beneath his heels, but his eyes remained calm —still, like a lake untouched even in the heart of a storm.
Beside him, the young serpent woman, Die Ba, struggled to steady herself, her long tail tangling awkwardly in the loose sand.
—Your tail is too long. I can’t carry you… —Zhu Xian murmured, voice dry but steady.
She looked at him.
Her eyes shone with more than fear.
There was hope there. And something else —a growing admiration.
—Then… we fight together. Can you defend yourself? —he said, tightening his fist.
The mercenaries didn’t wait for more.
—Kill him! Watch the serpents —don’t touch them!
Five men surged forward, weapons flashing under the scorching sun. A blade swept down in a sharp arc toward Zhu Xian’s neck.
But Zhu Xian was no longer a prisoner of time.
He was a cultivator forged by fate.
Bang!
He twisted, moving with the ease of the wind, and drove a precise upward kick.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Five bodies flew, scattering across the sand. Dust rose. Shadows fell.
Die Ba stared, wide-eyed.
This human… moved like he was dancing with the desert itself.
—All at once! Don’t give him a chance to breathe! —the leader barked.
A wave of mercenaries charged, more than ten. The air trembled.
Zhu Xian didn’t move at first. He closed his eyes for a brief second.
And listened.
Not to their footsteps.
But to the pulse of his own soul.
This is not the moment to die.
Then, his body ignited.
Golden and crimson energy flared around him like a living aura.
Dou Qi.
Not summoned by training.
But awakened by necessity.
The world seemed to pause.
And then Zhu Xian moved.
Each strike landed with flawless precision. Each motion, graceful and brutal at once.
—Blood-Drinking Mad Blade! —one of the mercenaries roared, lunging with a yellow-rank technique.
The blade shone with a crimson glow, cutting straight for Zhu Xian’s chest.
—Watch out! —Die Ba screamed, her voice raw.
But Zhu Xian had already felt it.
His body twisted. His eyes flared with spiritual light.
The attacker froze mid-strike, paralyzed by an invisible weight.
Then, like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsed into the sand.
Pain shot through Zhu Xian’s chest. His brows knit tight. He wasn’t used to channeling Dou Qi alongside the power of his soul —not yet.
And that single moment of distraction cost him.
Shhk!
A deep slash tore across his back.
Zhu Xian gritted his teeth, dropping to one knee. His robe soaked in red.
—Run! Please, just run! —Die Ba cried, tears streaking down her face.
—No. —Zhu Xian rose, Dou Qi crackling violently around him. —I said I’d save you.
His fighting spirit blazed like fire.
His muscles tightened, his speed surged.
One by one, the mercenaries fell.
Their screams faded into the burning sand.
Until only the leader remained, gasping, on his knees.
—P-please… spare me… I… I was just following orders…
Zhu Xian stared down at him, eyes cold as polished jade.
—And was she “just an order,” too?
The leader trembled. Zhu Xian raised his blade.
But then, Die Ba’s voice cut through the heat of the moment.
—No more killing. —Her tone was soft, trembling… and unbearably sad. —Please, no more blood. I don’t want you stained because of me.
Zhu Xian looked at her.
Then, slowly, lowered the weapon.
—Fine. But never lay a hand on anyone again. And remember why you survived today.
The leader nodded frantically and crawled away, never daring to look back.
Zhu Xian moved to the cages and broke every chain.
The shackles fell. Tears flowed freely.
Die Ba’s hands shook as she helped wrap the wound across his back.
—Thank you… for saving me. My name is Die Ba. —She offered a timid smile.
Zhu Xian gave a brief nod, eyes scanning the endless horizon.
—It’s not safe here. Let’s go.
As they walked away, the air shifted.
A low, guttural roar rumbled through the dunes.
From the distance, a massive tortoise emerged, hauling an enormous caravan strapped to its shell.
A man in a plain hemp robe sat cross-legged atop it.
The surviving mercenaries ran toward him like desperate dogs.
—Water seller! Give us your load!
The man didn’t respond.
The leader, still trembling, stumbled closer, daring to place a hand on the stranger’s shoulder.
—Hey! I’m talking to you—!
Those were his last words.
An invisible wave of power erupted.
Time itself seemed to freeze.
And the leader’s body crystallized instantly —a perfect statue of ice, gleaming under the desert sun.
—I hate being touched, —the stranger said softly, letting his robe slip from his shoulders. Beneath it, blue armor traced with gold gleamed like the surface of a frozen lake. His eyes burned with unfathomable power.
The mercenaries recoiled, terror freezing their limbs.
—Where are the serpent women? —he asked, voice calm but sharp as a blade.
One of the men, shaking violently, stammered:
—They… they were rescued… by a young man… They went south…
The man turned his gaze toward the horizon.