Chapter 39 – The Truth Behind the Claws
The riverbank becomes a stage for a deadly play. Zhu Zhuyun leaps from the rock, her claws glowing with a purple, lethal light. "Nowhere left to run, little sister!" she shrieks. Her voice is full of malice, but Lakan's ears, refined by the Song of the Adarna, detect a microscopic tremor in her vocal cords—fear. Not for herself, but for the girl bleeding on the sand.
The assassins—three Soul Ancestors and one Soul Emperor sent by the First Prince, Dai Wei—fan out. Their killing intent is real. They aren't in on the secret; they are the audience Zhuyun is performing for.
Just as the Soul Emperor assassin prepares to launch a lethal shadow-spike at the collapsed Zhu Zhuqing, Lakan moves.
He doesn't leap; he simply steps out of the water. As his foot touches the dry sand, he releases his Soul Pressure.
BOOM.
The air doesn't just grow heavy—it turns into lead. The river itself stops flowing for a split second. Lakan stands between the sisters, his upper body bare, steam rising from his Batong-Pilak skin.
"I don't like repeat performances," Lakan says, his voice vibrating with a frequency that makes the assassins' teeth ache.
Then, he releases his Spirit Rings.
One. Two. Purple. (Enhanced by his early cultivation).
Three. Four. Five. Six. Deep, Blood-Red with shimmering Golden Markings.
The silence that follows is absolute. The Soul Emperor assassin falls to his knees, his eyes bulging.
"Six rings... four of them are... 100,000-year rings?" the assassin stammers, his soul power recoiling in terror. "He's only twelve... silver eyes... red and gold rings...Impossible, it must be....Yes! It's him. The Holy Son of Spirit Hall!"
Zhu Zhuyun freezes mid-air, landing awkwardly. Her heart hammers against her ribs. She had hoped to push Zhu Zhuqing across the border, but she never expected to run into the legendary monster of the North.
Lakan turns his Eyes of the Origin God toward her. In his vision, the "Flow" of her spirit isn't attacking—it's defensive. He sees the way her soul power is subtly shielding Zhu Zhuqing's vital points even while her claws look like they are attacking. He sees the "Knot" of grief in her heart.
She's not a hunter, Lakan realizes. She's a shepherd.
"You," Lakan says, looking directly into Zhuyun's eyes. "The performance is over. Your 'loyalty' to the Star Luo Prince is noted, but this girl... she has caught my eye. And what belongs to a Sovereign is no longer a plaything for Princes."
The assassins don't need to be told twice. Facing a Rank 60 Spirit Emperor with four Red Rings is suicide. They back away into the shadows, their shadows flickering in fear. Zhuyun remains for a moment longer.
She looks at her sister, who has finally fainted from blood loss and exhaustion. Lakan reaches down, picking up the small, battered girl with an effortless, masculine grace.
For a brief second, the mask of the "Cruel Sister" slips. Zhuyun's eyes soften, filled with a desperate, silent plea: Protect her. Give her the life I can't have.
"Go," Lakan whispers, so low only she can hear. "She is safe in the shadow of the sun."
Zhuyun turns away, her voice returning to its cold, mocking tone for the benefit of the retreating assassins. "Fine! If Spirit Hall wants the trash, they can have it. We've chased her far enough."
As she vanishes into the brush, she takes one final look back—a look of "Be well, sister"—before disappearing into the Star Luo night.
Lakan lays Zhu Zhuqing on a bed of soft moss near the river. He pulls a small, crystalline vial from his spatial ring—a Gamat-Mutya refined with the essence of the Life-Giving Spring.
He carefully applies the liquid to her wounds. The jagged gashes on her porcelain skin begin to knit together, leaving no scars, only the faint glow of Lakan's silver soul power.
As he works, he looks at her sleeping face. "You chose a hard path, little cat," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "But from today, you won't have to run anymore. You'll learn to hunt."