The serpent slithers closer, circling her feet. Its scales shimmer faintly under the moonlight.
"I can help you get out of here..sssh"
Lan Yan blinked. "Really?"
Her eyes trailed down its sleek little body, barely longer than her arm. A laugh bubbled out before she could stop it.
"You? What are you going to do, bite the wall down?"
The snake's tail coiled, its ember eyes flashing with something deeper—an old ache that had nothing to do with her mocking tone.
But all it said aloud, with a hiss that almost sounded like a chuckle, was:
"Try me."
Lan Yan realized there was no way out of the Cold Abyss on her own. She didn't fully trust the black serpent, but it was the only chance she had.
"So… how do we get out of here?" she asked, steadying her voice.
The serpent lifted its head, eyes glowing as the moonlight spilled through the narrow crack above.
Lan Yan crouched, unsure but curious, and reached out. Her fingers brushed the black scales—smooth, cold, and almost electric to the touch.
For a hundred years, it had waited in the Cold Abyss, trapped by the Plum Mist Sect's old spell. No ordinary person could free it. Only someone from the sect, carrying its spiritual mark, could touch the seal and release the serpent from its long prison. Now, when Lan Yan's hand touched its smooth back, the century of loneliness and restraint began to break away.
The serpent shivered, then expanded, its body stretching so long that the cavern seemed to shrink beneath it. How long? Lan Yan estimated it could coil around the entire Cold Abyss twice and still have room to spare. Its thickness was like a tree trunk, and its length… it seemed endless, coiling into the shadows above.
Its ember-red eyes fixed on her, vertical pupils sharp and piercing, but not with hunger.
The curve of its neck dipped low, forming a natural seat. Lan Yan's heart raced. "Am I really supposed to… sit on this thing?"
The serpent let out a low hiss that sounded almost like a sigh. Then, without warning, it lifted off the ground. Not a single wing stirred—yet the air vibrated around them, carrying them upward, toward the moonlight streaming from the hole above.
Lan Yan clutched its scales, hair whipping around her face. The Cold Abyss fell away beneath them like a frozen sea of shadows, and for the first time in a hundred years, the serpent felt freedom stirring in its body.
"Where… where are we going?" Lan Yan shouted over the rush of wind, though the serpent gave no answer. Its ember-red eyes glowed with determination, fixed ahead.
Seconds stretched like hours. The wind bit at her face, the speed dizzying, but Lan Yan couldn't let go—not yet. The serpent dove and twisted with uncanny precision, weaving through streaks of moonlight.
"Hang on!" the snake hissed sharply. Its voice carried both warning and command, leaving no room for hesitation.
Lan Yan's stomach lurched as the serpent cut through the void like an arrow. Below, the silver river swelled wider and wider, glowing with a brilliance that felt wrong. It wasn't just a river—it was memories, lives, drifting like scraps of torn scrolls. Faces surfaced and vanished in the current, warriors and demons alike, none retaining names, none retaining selves.
Great. A river of amnesia.
Her hair lashed across her face, but she refused to loosen her grip on the serpent's scales. "Black serpent, where are you taking me?"
The beast's ember-red eyes tilted toward her for a heartbeat, filled with some ancient amusement. Its voice slithered through the air, low and resonant.
"The Xi'Tian Field."
Lan Yan's breath hitched. Xi'Tian Field? That name sounds like it comes with free death and a coupon for despair. The weight of it pressed on her chest, like hearing about a "Final Boss Battlefield" before even reaching level two.
"I don't want to go there! Suspicious name, creepy river—what is this, some ancient battlefield? Or are you planning to throw me off and eat me there instead?" she shouted, words tumbling over each other.
The serpent's body rippled with a hiss, disturbingly similar to laughter. "If I wished to eat you," it rumbled, "you would not have lived past your first scream."
Comforting. Very reassuring. Ten out of ten for travel companionship.
Lan Yan had imagined many things when she heard the words Xi'Tian Field.
None of them resembled the place where the serpent finally descended.
The void tore open, and she found herself standing on a vast plain of pale stone, stretching farther than her eyes could see. The ground was flat, too flat, as if hammered into submission by some ancient force. Thin wisps of light, like the remnants of shattered stars, drifted across the horizon, and every step seemed to echo—though there was nothing for the sound to bounce against.
The air was dry, yet heavy, carrying a faint metallic tang. Blood, perhaps.
Lan Yan shivered and muttered under her breath, "This really does look like a place where people used to die by the thousands…"
The black serpent lowered its massive body, scales grinding against the stone with a sound like thunder rolling through a canyon. Its ember eyes glowed faintly, watching her with an expression she couldn't read.
"This is Xi'Tian Field," the serpent announced, its tone suddenly heavy and dignified, like an actor stepping onto the stage for his most serious role.
Lan Yan blinked. A second ago, it had been all sarcasm and mockery. Now, apparently, they were doing history class.
"The ancient battlefield where immortals and demons clashed since the dawn of creation," the serpent droned on, voice as solemn as temple bells. "Every grain of sand here has tasted blood. Every breath of wind carries slaughter."
Lan Yan shivered. Not because she was moved by the tragedy of it all, but because—wow—the atmosphere here was really committing to the bit. Faint clashing sounds, a whiff of iron, whispers of long-dead soldiers… this place had better special effects than any theme park haunted house she'd seen in her previous life.
And then she saw it.
A sword. Not just a sword. The sword. So big it pierced the sky, like the heavens had been nailed into place and no one dared pull it out. Around it stretched a wasteland of blades sticking up like gravestones, each one still humming faintly with killing intent. Yellowing talismans clung stubbornly to the wind, like old stickers refusing to peel off.
Lan Yan's lips twitched. Honestly, if anyone asked her what her impression of this place was, she'd say: a graveyard designed by someone with serious sword envy.
The serpent spiraled lower, carrying her straight toward the hollow at the giant blade's center. It gaped like a door, darkness yawning inside.
Her stomach knotted. "I'm not going in there," she whispered. Which was a lie, obviously, because her fingers clamped tighter around the serpent's scales. A girl could say no, but survival instincts said otherwise.
The serpent didn't bother answering. It just plunged them both into the darkness.
Inside, she found herself in a vast space that was anything but empty. Stars glittered like shards scattered across velvet. Talisman seals floated lazily, glowing like drifting lanterns. It was… beautiful, in a "might get murdered here" kind of way.
Then the serpent shifted. Its body unraveled into shadows, which twisted and folded until a man stepped forward where the beast had been.
Lan Yan's breath caught.
He had long black hair bound with jade, robes stitched with silver constellations, and eyes burning ember-red—the exact same shade as the serpent's. He looked less like a man and more like some painter's fever dream of "mysterious immortal meets dangerous demon."
He lowered himself onto one knee, movements sharp and precise, fist pressed to his chest. The whole scene screamed devoted retainer greeting his lord.
"My Lord," he said reverently, voice low enough to vibrate in her bones. "I am late. Please punish me—and accept the offering I have brought."
Lan Yan's brain fizzled.
Wait. What?
Also—hold on—she'd been clinging to this man's back the whole time?! Her face flamed instantly. Mortification: fatal strike.
But before she could sort that out, her eyes caught something else.
Floating in the starry dark was a figure, chained, wrists bound to the void itself. Its aura pressed down like a mountain, so oppressive the stars themselves seemed to dim.
Lan Yan's stomach dropped.
Offering?
Her pulse stuttered.
Wait. Don't tell me—
Her eyes went wide, and the thought clawed its way up, inevitable and horrifying:
Am I the offering?!
And yet, her eyes refused to look away.
The figure in the chains was simple. A plain black robe, not embroidered, not dramatic, hanging loosely over a body that should have seemed fragile but carried a strange weight of presence. Long white hair spilled freely, parted neatly in the middle, as if someone had spent centuries grooming it with care. Lan Yan's brain, of course, refused to cooperate. So neat. So perfect. Like it's been professionally styled while someone's been chained for eternity.
Then the eyes opened.
Lan Yan's breath hitched.
Not golden, not crimson, not sage-gray. No. These eyes burned with a color she couldn't name: the soft, haunting blaze of NihilFire, with a glimmer of pink blossoming inside like a suspended petal.
"So… handsome," she whispered. She immediately wished she could swallow those words back, but it was too late. Her voice had escaped. Her brain had escaped. Entire dignity? Escaped.
Before she could even contemplate her imminent mortification, the air shifted. Invisible fingers—gentle but insistent—lifted her. She was no longer on the serpent's back. She drifted forward, through the dark, through the stars, until she floated directly in front of him. If it could, she'd just float along and hope for the best. Whether floating gracefully or flailing helplessly, floating was still floating.
Once she came to terms with it, nothing seemed like a big deal anymore.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, the universe itself seemed to pause. The talismans suspended in space, the faint glow of NihilFire, the heavy oppression of countless eons—they all stilled. It was just her and him.
Lan Yan's heart hammered like a drum in a parade she had never signed up for. His eyes—those impossible, pink-tinged NihilFire eyes—reflected her entire figure, trembling, small, undeniably visible.
Behind her, the serpent's voice broke the silence. Calm. Satisfied.
"I knew it."