Dreams That Refuse to Die
Xiao Yan returned to his room like a man whose soul had been hollowed out.
The door closed behind him with a dull thud, yet even that sound felt distant, muted, as though it belonged to another world entirely. He remained standing there for a long time, unmoving, eyes fixed on the lone candle flickering weakly atop the wooden table. The flame bent and straightened with the faintest draft, stubbornly refusing to go out.
His chest felt tight.
Every breath scraped painfully against his throat.
Mi-An's face surfaced again in his mind—her tears, the tremble in her voice, the way she had turned her back on him without looking back. The memory replayed mercilessly.
His legs finally gave out.
He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched forward, fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug deep into his palms. The silence inside the room pressed down on him. It was unbearable. His vision blurred, and before he could stop himself, tears slipped down his cheeks.
One after another.
Soundless.
Heavy.
"I don't understand…" he whispered into the emptiness.
The candle burned lower.
Exhaustion crept over him like a slow tide. His head drooped forward. His body, drained from battle and grief alike, could no longer resist.
He fell asleep.
The Dream
He was standing on a cliff.
The wind howled mercilessly, cold and sharp, slicing against his robes and skin. The sky above stretched vast and oppressive, heavy clouds pressing downward as though the heavens themselves sought to crush him.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Slow.
Measured.
Xiao Yan turned, heart pounding violently in his chest. His mouth opened—but no sound emerged.
A man in a blue robe approached calmly.
Without hesitation, the man raised his hand.
And pushed him.
The world vanished beneath Xiao Yan's feet.
He fell.
Air tore past him as he plummeted into endless emptiness. The sky spun violently, disorienting and merciless. Panic seized him. He looked upward—
The man's body twisted.
Bones cracked. Flesh tore.
Scales burst through skin as his form expanded grotesquely.
A dragon roared.
The sound shattered the heavens, reverberating through every fiber of his being.
The scene splintered like broken glass.
He was no longer falling.
Now he stood on a vast, unfamiliar land. Endless. Empty. The ground beneath him was cracked and lifeless, stretching into the horizon without boundary. The sky was pale, drained of color.
In the distance—
A figure knelt.
"Mi-An!" he cried, rushing forward.
She was crying.
Her shoulders trembled violently as tears streamed down her face. When she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with pain—and something resolute.
"Xiao Yan…" she said softly, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry. Don't come to find me."
"Mi-An! What are you doing here?" he shouted desperately, reaching toward her.
"Mi-An!!!"
Her form began to fade.
Light peeled away from her body, dissolving into the empty sky. He lunged forward, trying to grab her—but she slipped through his fingers like mist.
"No—!"
From the emptiness behind him, something shifted.
A presence.
The Ansha stepped out of nothingness.
His eyes were cold. His expression unreadable.
Before Xiao Yan could react, the Ansha raised his hand and struck him squarely in the chest.
Pain exploded through his body.
Xiao Yan jolted awake.
His body was drenched in cold sweat. His breath came in ragged gasps, heart pounding violently against his ribs as if it might burst free. He sat upright abruptly, hands gripping the edge of the bed as his entire body trembled.
It was a dream.
Yet it felt too real.
Fragments rushed back all at once.
The Memory
He saw himself waking suddenly in the middle of the night, parched and restless. He remembered pouring water with shaking hands.
Then—
Nem appearing at his door, urgency written across his face.
"LuQi has returned. He wants to see you."
Xiao Yan remembered following him.
Later, word spreading like wildfire—
The Ansha had returned to the world.
The flashback ended.
Xiao Yan's eyes widened.
He leapt to his feet and rushed outside.
The Omen
The moment he stepped out, he froze.
The sky had changed.
Dark clouds churned violently overhead, twisting and colliding as if the heavens themselves were locked in war. Wind swept across the sect grounds, heavy and suffocating, carrying an oppressive pressure that made even seasoned cultivators stumble.
"What's this supposed to mean?" Xiao Yan muttered, dread creeping up his spine. "Why is this happening?"
Footsteps approached rapidly.
Nem appeared beside him, brows furrowed tightly.
"What happened?" Nem asked sharply.
Xiao Yan clenched his fists. "Just a dream."
He turned slightly, as if to return indoors—
A deafening crash split the air.
He spun around.
Standing calmly atop a rooftop, robes fluttering violently in the storm wind, was a figure he knew all too well.
The Ansha.
His presence alone crushed the surroundings into silence.
"It is the Ansha! Kill him!" Nem shouted instantly.
Disciples and demons surged forward at once, weapons drawn, spiritual energy igniting in chaotic bursts. Di'or's voice rose alongside Nem's, urging them forward.
Moments later, the saints arrived, forming a defensive array in disciplined unison.
The Ansha looked down at them.
And smiled.
Absolute Suppression
Xiao Yan's blood boiled.
Mi-An's departure—her tears, her final warning—crashed into him all at once, igniting a storm of rage and grief within his chest.
"You nothings," the Ansha said calmly.
He raised his hand.
One strike.
A single wave of power erupted outward.
The ground cracked violently as bodies were flung away like dry leaves in a hurricane. Disciples slammed into walls and pillars. Cries of pain filled the air.
Before anyone could recover, the Ansha stepped forward.
A terrifying force radiated from him, spreading across the battlefield like an invisible tide. Spiritual energy was ripped from their bodies, torn free against their will and drawn into him like mist toward a vortex.
"Today," he said coldly, "you all will feel a pain worse than death."
"How dare you stir up trouble? Ansha!! I'll end you today!" LuQi roared, forcing himself upright through sheer will.
The Ansha turned his gaze toward him.
His expression was calm.
Almost bored.
With a casual sweep of his hand, LuQi was sent flying. He crashed heavily to the ground—and did not rise again.
"Their core essence is about shattering!" Nem screamed in alarm.
Xiao Yan stepped forward, teeth clenched tightly.
"I shall engage the Ansha! Take them to safety!"
But before anyone could act—
The Ansha lifted a single finger.
A strand of terrifying power shot outward, wrapping around Nem instantly and pinning him helplessly in midair.
Then—
The Ansha's gaze locked onto Xiao Yan.
"Xiao Yan," he said quietly, though his voice thundered directly within Xiao Yan's mind, "I told you to wait for my return."
Power surged.
In a single, overwhelming motion, the Ansha unleashed his strength—sweeping disciples, saints, demons—
And Xiao Yan himself—
Into his grasp.
The world shook violently.
And darkness loomed closer than ever.