"North to South!"
She brought the fan down in a brutal arc.
The crosswind snapped inward, collapsing instead of spreading—compressed into a single, roaring edge that struck the wyrm head-on.
SHRRRAAAK!
The gale cleaved through its skull, carving a trench through bone and flesh before slamming it into the cavern floor.
The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing outward as the wyrm spasmed violently, its body twitching in uneven pulses.
But it wasn't dead.
Yet.
The white flames on its exoskeleton reignited—this time even worse.
The gust of wind and Qi fanned over it, creating a more twisted heat that threatened to consume it whole.
Yīnluò felt it.
The newfound hunger she had driven into her Dao Flames—burning to be kept alive so long as she supported them with the conditions required to sustain them.
Qi.
Her knees buckled for half a second as the poison in her veins surged again, dragging her vision sideways.
Blood ran freely from her swollen eye, dripping down her cheek and splattering against the stone.
Hah… hah…
She forced herself upright.
The other two wyrms recovered faster than she'd hoped.
One burst from the ceiling, jaws open wide.
The other erupted from the ground beneath her feet.
No time.
No space.
Good.
Her lips split into a feral grin.
She didn't retreat.
She stepped forward.
Her fan blazed—"AHHHHH!"
She screamed a battle cry, fueled by the need to surpass her own expectations. White flames coated the bristles, beginning to form into something alive.
Her flames didn't scatter this time.
They condensed.
White fire crawled up her spine, down her shoulders, and into her limbs, sinking beneath her skin instead of spilling outward.
They sank into her bones, helping her fight the building fatigue and sluggishness brought on by the toxins inside her.
For a brief instant—
She felt… hollow and invincible at the same time.
Balanced.
Alive in the space where death brushed closest.
Her soul shuddered.
The Bone Key answered.
The flames changed.
Not brighter.
Sharper.
She moved.
The wyrm from below struck first—but her foot twisted aside at the last possible moment, the attack grazing her hip instead of piercing through. She slammed the folded fan straight into its maw.
CRUNCH!
The white flames detonated inside its throat.
Its scream died instantly as its skull ruptured from within, brain boiling away in a silent burst of pale fire.
She didn't stop.
The second wyrm descended.
Yīnluò spun, flames uncoiling as she released everything she'd been holding back.
"Mystic Compass—"
Her voice cracked.
Blood sprayed from her lips.
She finished anyway.
"—South to North!"
The flames curved off in a chain of half-formed skulls.
Swoosh—!
The crescent of skulls struck the space in front of it.
The air folded.
The wyrm slammed into it.
For half a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then its body seized.
Its Qi flow shattered.
The poison in its veins ignited backward.
Its internal organs collapsed into ash as the white flames erased it from the inside out—leaving its outer shell to crumble lifelessly to the floor.
Silence.
Yīnluò staggered.
Her legs finally gave out, one knee slamming into the stone as she caught herself with the whip. Her chest heaved violently, lungs burning, vision tunneling.
But she was alive.
Still breathing.
Still here.
Her flames flickered weakly—then steadied.
Not stronger.
More precise.
She laughed quietly, breathless and raw.
"So this is it…" she murmured. "The state of walking down the Endless Corridor you mentioned.
And my fire… my fire is the key to my potential. The longer I fight with it in this confined space, the more I understand its neglected uses~"
Her fingers tightened around her weapons.
She lifted her head toward the darkness ahead.
"Your analogy truly fits my situation to a tee. Maybe that's why you phrased it the way you did," she said, wiping blood from her mouth.
Her white flames burned on.
The walls trembled deeper down the tunnel.
Stone cracked and collapsed as a wyrm caved in the far end of the passage. She heard it coming—and began limping forward to meet it.
She took only a few unsteady steps before a group of wyrms burst through the walls.
Her body moved on instinct.
Blazing arcs of fire and compressed wind tore through the air.
Her dagger flashed, slicing through exposed joints as the whip snapped and recoiled—pulling her forward or yanking enemies off balance.
Fireballs detonated around her.
Poison clouds erupted, hurling her into the stone.
She blacked out—
—and came back stabbing through a hardened shell, her blade buried to the hilt.
Again.
And again.
Sometimes she woke on the ground, lungs screaming, veins burning black beneath her skin.
Sometimes she came to mid-swing, already moving, already fighting.
Her body refused to stay down.
Eventually, she staggered to the collapsed rubble at the tunnel's end—Qi completely exhausted, her body flooded with an unimaginable amount of toxin.
Her legs finally gave out.
She fell onto her back, staring up at the fractured ceiling.
She laughed.
Her veins were fully black now. Her eyes glassy, unfocused—wrong.
She was dying.
Or perhaps she had already died ten times over by now.
"Don't worry, my lord…" she whispered faintly. "I'll find my way back to you somehow. And when I do… I'd like you to teach me more~"
Her eyes softened as the light slowly drained from them, darkness swallowing her vision.
She heard a burrow near her. Rocks shifted as the caved-in path widened.
A long blur wormed its way out, along with five others.
Her arms twitched, ready for one last fight—but she couldn't push her body any further. Thump. Her heart slowed, and her sight grew darker with each passing second.
Not before she saw a winged silhouette moving through the cleared debris.
You did well to stay alive this long…
You can rest for now. You deserve it.
That was the last thing she heard.
Warmth surrounded her.
Someone picked her up.
"My lord…"
She whispered as consciousness faded, clinging to that familiar presence.
Qiren held her body tightly, then turned to his thralls.
All remaining wyrms—your queen has surrendered.
His voice boomed directly into the minds of the forty rogue wyrms and the remaining seventeen still locked in battle.
Hear my call. From this moment onward, you are part of my army. You will follow my rules.
They stopped fighting.
They chittered within the walls, at a loss, waiting for a command from their queen that never came.
He didn't care whether they believed him—or whether they would resist later. He would deal with them in time. Now that he had reclaimed his fruit, he had nothing to worry about.
He began walking back toward the rubble, carrying Yīnluò through the tunnel as six wyrms around him wiggled in delight.
"I don't know if a demon could walk off this degree of poisoning," Qiren murmured to her unconscious body.
Her Spirit Mist leaked faintly as he spoke.
"If they could, they'd probably have to drain most of their toxin-infused blood and cut away any rotting tissue. But that still wouldn't account for internal damage—or lingering poisons."
He smiled, his own face heavy with fatigue.
"But luckily, you're stuck with the best demonic physician," he joked softly, "who just so happens to have a living body lying around in his basement."
He continued down the narrow corridor of fallen rock before spreading his wings on the other side.
"Clear out the remaining rubble," he ordered.
The wyrms obeyed immediately. It didn't take long before they reached their destination.
He laid her down atop a giant figure buried beneath withered vines.
He adjusted her posture, gently fixed her hair, then straightened.
The living carcass of the former queen rested without purpose.
Reaching into his pouch, he withdrew several talismans and placed them over Yīnluò's eyes.
They threaded together, forming a paper mask across her face.
Qiren stretched, then moved to the side of the chamber and placed another talisman against the wall. He grunted as his Qi dropped even lower.
I just need to set up the array for now, he thought. I can wait for my Qi to recover afterward.
His feet shifted over loose stone as he placed talisman after talisman, until mental and spiritual exhaustion finally overtook him.
His eyes closed, and he fell into a deep sleep.
Time passed.
His Daoist Aperture and Spirit Core refilled gradually.
Within an hour, his Qi returned to its maximum capacity of four hundred units—then passively exceeded one thousand, continuing to rise.
From one thousand eighty-two Negative Karma…
to six thousand one hundred…
then ten thousand…
all the way to twenty-five thousand.
At that point, it stopped increasing as it normally would.
His abdomen glowed as, for the first time, his Spirit Core found its limiter.
This triggered a new change to occur as both of his Taijitu pieces found their limits.
Negative Karma: 25,900 ↑↓
Refinement Qi: 410.7 ↑
Refinement Realm: Middle Stage (Practitioner)
His Spirit Core pulsed, and his Daoist Aperture began leaking Karma.
The Taijitu fragments stirred—then began to swirl, along with the two opposing forces flowing from them.
Qiren's meridians opened. His muscles tightened as his awareness sharpened, even though he remained unconscious.
The sensation deepened, bleeding into his dreams.
Within his mind, he saw a vision: his Daoist Aperture and Spirit Core intertwined in a spinning formation, surrounded by an array of crystal-clear Taijitu fragments floating in ordered rows.
The first row held six pieces.
The second, twelve.
The third, eighteen.
Beyond that was a blur he could not perceive.
Then—
The Taijitu halted.
For a single, impossible heartbeat, everything froze.
Then it shuddered.
Qi and Karma detonated outward in a silent surge, flooding his meridians as though a dam had burst.
His Spirit Core convulsed, its surface fracturing with luminous veins as pressure far beyond its former limits surged through it.
Crimson light and abyssal darkness twisted together—not merging, not repelling—but coiling.
They surged into the first ring of Taijitu fragments.
Six crystal-clear pieces floated there—
—and three of them changed.
One darkened instantly, clarity collapsing inward as it turned translucent black, swallowing all reflected light like a bottomless well.
The other two ignited, veins of deep crimson spreading through them, glowing hot and vivid as if infused with living blood.
The remaining three trembled violently—but held.
The formation stabilized.
A pulse rippled outward.
Qiren felt it—not as pain, but as confirmation.
Something fundamental had locked into place.
A milestone had been crossed.
His meridians flared open all at once.
Qi surged through pathways that had never existed before, carving themselves into his spiritual body by sheer force. His muscles clenched. His breath hitched.
Inside the vision, the Taijitu resumed spinning—slower now, heavier, more deliberate.
The red and black fragments rotated with authority.
Balance had not been achieved—
—but structure had.
Suddenly—
Qiren's eyes flew open.
"—HGH!"
He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, gasping as his body jerked upright. Pain flared across his chest as air rushed back into his lungs, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.
Sweat drenched his skin.
His vision swam.
Then steadied.
Qi churned thick and heavy within him, unfamiliar yet obedient. Karma pressed against his awareness like a second pulse—no longer inert, but responsive.
Qiren exhaled slowly, one hand pressing against his head.
"…my karmic wheel?" he muttered hoarsely.
His gaze sharpened.
And somewhere deep within, he felt the new red and black crystals continuing to turn alongside his original set.