Yan Sha heard the piercing howl and turned—
Only to see Yan Ruoyan lying limp in Xuan Chen's arms.
In that instant, rage surged like wildfire.
He pointed at Xuan Chen, voice hoarse with fury.
"It was you! You killed Ruoyan!
If you hadn't appeared, she'd still be alive.
I'll kill you!"
Without regard for his injuries, he activated his Crimson Gold Body at full force.
Like a maddened tiger, he charged toward Xuan Chen, intent on tearing him apart.
Xuan Chen stood motionless, eyes vacant.
He didn't even register Yan Sha's approach.
One thought echoed in his mind:
Why?
Since childhood, no one had ever told him what love was.
No one had ever said, I like you.
He had grown numb to warmth, convinced such feelings weren't meant for him.
But in just a few days with Yan Ruoyan,
He had tasted what it meant to be truly protected.
She had said, I like you.
And that sentence cut deeper than any blade—
Piercing the untouched softness in his heart.
She had offered her life to shield him.
He couldn't understand—
Why had this kindness come so late?
So I was… worthy of love.
But the moment he realized it,
Fate had already taken it away.
His question—Why?—
Now transformed into something else:
What is destiny?
If fate decrees I cannot walk beside the one I love—
Then I will defy fate itself.
Yan Sha was nearly upon him, killing intent blazing.
At that moment, Xuan Chen's aura shifted.
Spiritual energy erupted from within him.
A shockwave burst outward, centered on his body—
Like the eye of a storm.
Yan Sha froze, stunned.
The world fell silent.
Even his heartbeat and breath seemed erased.
Had he not still seen light, he might have believed he'd died.
Then—
Xuan Chen appeared before him, eyes cold and empty.
No joy. No sorrow.
Yan Sha felt his soul tremble.
He struck first, hoping to seize the moment—
Thud!
A strange sound.
Pain exploded in his abdomen.
He looked down—
A dagger, glowing with icy blue light, was buried deep in his gut.
Frost bloomed along its edge, chilling him to the bone.
He roared and counterattacked, his fist wrapped in Crimson energy—
But struck only air.
Xuan Chen had already retreated.
The cold lingered in the air.
Yan Sha looked at the wound.
Its edges had crystallized.
Blood refused to flow.
His spiritual energy was in chaos.
He realized—
He had lost.
After the battle with Xiao Chen, he was already spent.
He had relied on rage alone to push through, hoping for a swift kill.
But he had underestimated Xuan Chen.
He staggered to his knees, eyes falling on Yan Ruoyan's lifeless body.
A thousand words caught in his throat—
But no one remained to hear them.
He looked to the sky and sighed.
Then rose, step by heavy step, and walked toward her.
Xuan Chen did not stop him.
Yan Sha lifted his sister's cold body.
As he turned to leave, he paused and said quietly:
"Beware… the Fourth Elder."
Then he stepped into the blazing fire.
He knew flames were merciless.
But he also knew—
There was no place left in this world for her.
Better to let her rest in the warmth of his arms and memory.
—
In the east, a sliver of white light broke through the horizon.
It pierced the night.
That light seemed to whisper:
Darkness always ends.
Light never disappears—
It simply waits for its time.
The firestorm had faded.
Ash drifted through the morning light, like dust fallen from the heavens.
Xuan Chen walked slowly along the forest path leading out of the mountains, one arm supporting Xiao Chen.
The flames were behind them.
The ash had settled.
Only when they reached the snow-lined creek, still untouched by spring, did Xiao Chen stir.
"…We're alive?"
His voice was weak, tinged with disbelief.
Xuan Chen didn't answer—just nodded.
After a moment, he said quietly,
"You were unconscious for three quarters of an hour.
I didn't carry you back to the camp.
I don't plan to."
Xiao Chen looked at him, confused—
Then something clicked.
"Chen-ge… Did you always mean to save me like this?"
"It wasn't saving," Xuan Chen replied.
"It was settling accounts.
What's owed, I repay.
What's due, I deliver.
Then we walk our own paths."
Xiao Chen coughed, propping himself up.
Xuan Chen handed him a prepared vial of medicine.
Xiao Chen took it, murmuring,
"I thought you'd leave me behind.
Go on alone."
"You give me too much credit," Xuan Chen said, glancing at him.
His tone was light—like wind brushing treetops.
"A man who can't even sort out his own feelings…
Where would he run to?"
Xiao Chen fell silent.
After a long pause, he asked softly,
"You loved her… didn't you?"
Xuan Chen hesitated.
Then said,
"I don't know if that was love.
But in that moment—
If it could've kept her alive…
I would've died in her place."
Xiao Chen lowered his gaze.
"That's love."
He looked at Xuan Chen's calm, sorrowful eyes—
And realized something.
The man he'd leaned on all this time…
Had never truly been alone.
They sat by the creek, letting the morning light fall through the mist onto their shoulders.
Then Xuan Chen spoke.
"Did you hear what Yan Sha said at the end?"
"…The Fourth Elder?"
Xuan Chen nodded.
"Our fight was just the opening move.
The real enemy… is still ahead."
Xiao Chen looked at Xuan Chen's back.
His throat tightened.
Then, softly, he said—
"…Brother."
Xuan Chen paused, then smiled.
"Let's go."
Xiao Chen nodded, tears mingling with his grin.
"Then let's go, brother.
This battle's behind us—
But we've still got plenty of scores to settle."
—
Two days later.
Xiao Chen and Xuan Chen arrived at a small border town east of Chixia Mountain.
The town was called Mist Creek.
Nestled between forest and hills, with water flowing nearby—
Sparse in population, but not desolate.
After freshening up, they found lodging at a modest inn named Gathering Clouds Pavilion.
That night, they sat by the window on the second floor.
Xiao Chen had just ordered food and tea when voices drifted from the neighboring table.
"Did you hear? The bandits at Chixia Mountain—wiped out overnight.
Not a single survivor!"
"No way. That's Crimson Refining Sect's shadow turf…
Who'd dare make a move?"
"No idea. But people saw the mountain ablaze—
Talisman traces everywhere.
They say it was two young men. Ruthless."
Xiao Chen's chopsticks paused.
He glanced sideways at Xuan Chen.
Xuan Chen didn't react.
He simply lifted his teacup and took a quiet sip.
"Murderers… or heroes?" one of them murmured, voice tinged with reverence.
Outside, the wind stirred the curtains.
Xuan Chen lowered his gaze and said softly,
"Seems we've left quite the trail."
—
As they wandered through the market streets, Xiao Chen's eyes were drawn to a blacksmith's shop.
Standard swords and rusted halberds hung out front—
Nothing remarkable.
Except for one item in the far corner—
A long polearm wrapped in black cloth, standing on a stone pedestal.
A faint chill emanated from beneath the cloth, catching the eye.
Xuan Chen stopped.
"Thinking of switching weapons?"
Xiao Chen nodded with a smile.
"My sword's broken.
Time to find something that fits.
Maybe try something new."
The blacksmith, a burly middle-aged man, frowned slightly as they entered.
But still spoke.
"Looking for weapons? Browse freely.
But that one—"
He gestured to the black-wrapped item.
"—not for sale."
Xiao Chen pointed.
"What is it?"
The blacksmith spoke in a low, steady voice.
"That was left behind by an old guest from the Eastern Sea—
Forged from Deepsea Cold Iron.
Before it was even complete, a dragon's cry shook the waves, circling above for three days without dispersing.
Since then, it's said the spear houses a dragon's soul, bound to its core.
Its name is Dragon Soul.
It has never accepted a master.
Over the years, anyone who's tried to wield it has been injured by its aura.
If you truly wish to try—
Do so at your own risk."
Before the words had fully settled, a young man nearby let out a mocking laugh.
Dressed in fine robes, a jade academy token at his waist, he was flanked by two attendants.
"Sounds like a fairy tale," he sneered.
"Let me test it for you."
He yanked off the black cloth—
Revealing a spear that radiated biting cold.
It stood twelve feet long, ink-black with flowing scale patterns.
Its edge pulsed with suppressed sharpness and dominance.
Golden ancient runes adorned the grip—
A weapon born for war.
The youth grasped it—
And instantly felt as if he held thunder and ice.
His face twisted.
A blast of dragon aura sent him flying, blood spraying from his mouth.
He nearly collapsed.
Gasps filled the shop.
Xiao Chen stepped forward, eyes fixed on the silent spear.
He reached out slowly.
The spear hummed.
Dragon patterns shimmered like flowing light—
As if responding.
After a moment of stillness, the spear leapt into his hand.
Its cold aura receded.
A soft green glow wrapped around his fingers.
No resistance.
The crowd was stunned.
The blacksmith stared, wide-eyed.
"You… You can hold it?
It… chose you?"
Xuan Chen's eyes glinted.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Looks like it made its choice."
The injured youth clenched his teeth, humiliated.
But he said nothing—
And left with his attendants, bitter and silent.
The blacksmith paused, then spoke quietly.
"If Dragon Soul has chosen you…
Then it's yours.
I couldn't keep it anyway."
Xiao Chen gripped the spear.
He felt its core pulse in resonance.
He understood—
This was more than a weapon.
It was a guide.
Xuan Chen said calmly,
"With a dragon at your side…
Let's see how you walk this path."
—
Just as Xiao Chen turned to leave the forge, Dragon Soul in hand—
The academy youth reappeared.
His face was dark, flanked again by his attendants.
He blocked their path.
"You stole the weapon I wanted," he growled.
"And humiliated me.
Now it's time to settle this."
Xiao Chen stopped.
He glanced at him, voice flat.
"Settle?"
The youth smirked.
He drew his sword, spiritual energy gathering at the blade.
He struck—aiming straight for Xiao Chen's forehead.
He thought to catch Xiao Chen off guard, unfamiliar with the new weapon.
But in the next instant—
Xiao Chen's eyes narrowed.
He raised the spear.
Pop.
A soft sound.
Dragon Soul burst forth in a crescent arc—
A wave of spear energy, laced with cold and dragon's might, tore through the air.
The youth's sword shattered instantly.
The force didn't stop—
It surged toward his chest.
The youth's face twisted in shock.
He staggered back three steps—
But the residual force still churned his blood.
He dropped to his knees, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"Overestimated yourself."
Xiao Chen spoke softly,
Then slung Dragon Soul across his back.
His robes stirred gently as he turned and walked away.
The crowd fell silent.
No one dared approach the forge.
Someone whispered—
"That boy… could he be the reincarnation of some hidden master?"
"Dragon Soul… actually accepted him…"