Yang Fan instantly recognized the shadow.
Zhu Zhuqing?!
His shock was beyond words.
Why is she here?
Shouldn't she flee the Star Luo Empire three years from now?
"Where'd they go?"
"They were just here!"
"Search faster!"
"I won't have her sitting in the audience at the Elite Tournament!"
Faced with family assassins versus a stranger's hostility, Zhu Zhuqing chose the latter.
She watched the cave entrance like a hawk.
After tense minutes passed with no sound outside, her body finally relaxed. She slumped to the ground, gasping for breath.
Yet her guard remained up—eyes locked on Yang Fan in the dark.
Only when his hostility seemed to fade did her tension ease slightly.
"Thank you," she whispered—cold, quiet, yet crystal-clear in the silent cave.
"I didn't save you," Yang Fan replied flatly.
He wanted zero ties to the Star Luo Zhu family.
A commoner like him could barely handle his own clan's mess—let alone imperial drama.
But Zhu Zhuqing's arrival doused his complacency like ice water.
Star Luo was as volatile as Tian Dou.
With the tournament approaching, factions across Soul Land were stirring.
"You didn't harm me either."
Their brief exchange ended. Silence returned—only Zhu Zhuqing's breathing filled the cave.
Moonlight pierced the clouds, casting faint light into the darkness.
Now Yang Fan saw it: her left shoulder was wounded—not fatal, but bleeding.
Under his gaze, Zhu Zhuqing painfully dragged herself to a loose stone, pulling out a small medicine bottle.
Ah! Yang Fan understood.
No wonder she'd found his hard-scouted cave so easily—the "human traces" were hers all along.
As she treated her wound, Yang Fan's eyes widened.
Blood-Clotting Powder?!
The white powder matched Yao Lao's formula—the one left with the Breaking Clan!
Grandfather, you're amazing!
The Breaking Clan's business now reached the Star Luo Zhu family! Even nobles likely stocked this hemostatic miracle.
This was the first good news about his clan in months.
When he looked up, Zhu Zhuqing was staring at him—wary, alert.
Their eyes met.
He felt her coiled tension, her ingrained distrust.
Understandable.
Star Luo's royal and Zhu family's brutal survival-of-the-fittest system was infamous. Among heirs, only one Nether White Tiger could remain.
In such hell, trust was extinct.
After a brief stalemate, Yang Fan deliberately turned away—treating her like air.
Just one night together.
At dawn, part ways.
…
Dawn came silently.
Forest sounds woke them simultaneously.
They both shared a trait:
Even in sleep, their nerves stayed razor-tight.
Yang Fan's habit from soul beast forest training.
Zhu Zhuqing's from life-or-death clan battles.
They both chose to leave at sunrise—and walked the same path.
"I'm heading to Star Luo City. Only this route works," Zhu Zhuqing said suddenly—the longest sentence she'd spoken.
No explanation needed.
Yang Fan knew she was returning to the Zhu estate.
Was she hunting her second soul ring? Undergoing a trial? Ambushed by her sister Zhu Zhuyun?
(All guesses.)
Yang Fan wasn't chatty. With silent Zhu Zhuqing beside him, the air grew heavier.
He expected to split ways by noon—but fate intervened.
ROAR—!
A striped tiger leapt from the trees, blocking their path.
Five meters long, two meters tall at the shoulder—its forepaws thicker than Yang Fan's thighs. Fiery orange patterns blazed across its fur.
Blazing Flame Tiger!
Yang Fan recognized it instantly. ~3,000 years old.
Normally? He'd slap it into paste.
But not in front of Zhu Zhuqing. Can't reveal his strength.
ROAR—!
The tiger lunged—fire-attribute beasts were notoriously short-tempered.
Don't provoke it? It bites you.
Provoke it? It bites harder.
Rumor among soul masters: "Meet a Blazing Flame Tiger in the forest—one of you dies."
Mid-leap, its claws shot out like blades—
HISS—!
Severing a man-thick tree trunk.
Though not agility-focused, Yang Fan's near-Soul Ancestor power made him faster than Zhu Zhuqing.
The tiger, missing its first strike, grew furious.
It unleashed its signature move: Blazing Fury!—a fireball roaring from its maw.
Yang Fan slid backward, dodging again.
Then—Zhu Zhuqing struck.
Shh-shh-shh—!
Her Nether Spirit Cat martial soul elongated her nails into claws. Two soul rings flashed—she raked the tiger's back hundreds of times, tearing off clumps of fur.
The tiger whirled, blasting her with searing fire. She dodged—but her old injury left her struggling.
Her eyes darted to Yang Fan, silently screaming:
"I'm spent—you're up!"
Her timing was perfect. Her strikes embodied speed and precision—the essence of agility-attack soul masters.
But as a mere two-ring soul master, her sneak attack couldn't kill the beast.
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