Yan Zhi staggered forward as the fog slowly receded. His body felt unbearably heavy, as if molten iron flowed through his veins. His heartbeat faltered, struggling to pump strength long since drained. Yet his eyes remained open—not merely to endure, but to carve his path ahead.
The fractured shadow he had faced now dwelled within him, but its scars lingered. The whispers were gone, replaced by silence. Not the peace of quiet dawn, but the suffocating hush of a grave awaiting its final occupant.
And yet, within that silence pulsed something new: a faint rhythm. Not a force of domination, not light defying darkness, but a breath beating in harmony with the abyss.
"So… this is your true face," Yan Zhi murmured, closing his eyes. He could feel the shadow's breath behind his lungs, not consuming, but holding him upright, refusing to collapse.
The ground trembled. From the arena's cracks, black tendrils emerged, twisting like living roots. They spread across the floor and coiled into the air around him. Each brush of those roots pierced with a chilling cold, draining the last warmth from his flesh.
The Veil's core was rejecting him.
Yan Zhi staggered, but he did not fall. His breath rasped, but it did not fade.
In his mind echoed not his master's voice, but his own from long ago, fragile yet unyielding: "I want to live… even if it's with only one breath left."
Those words became his anchor.
Gritting his teeth, he ignited the pulse of shadow within his veins. A faint mist unfurled from his body—not emptiness, but breath. Every inhalation burned, yet it carried strength, sustaining his soul.
"If this is the trial of the Veil," Yan Zhi hissed, "then I'll endure with what breath remains. Because one last breath… is enough to defy the heavens."
The arena convulsed. The black roots lashed tighter, trying to crush him, suffocate him, erase his existence. But Yan Zhi stood, unyielding, his body trembling on the edge of collapse. His final breath shaped itself into a phantom spear, piercing back against the suffocating weight.
In that suffocating abyss, one truth burned clear:
the shadow had endured, and his last breath would never be extinguished.
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