Boom!
A surge of electric Qi exploded outward.
Hua was struck mid-motion, her body thrown across the ground as lightning danced along her limbs. She crashed hard, breath torn from her lungs.
Yang was already moving.
He rushed forward, laughter spilling from his mouth, fingers cracking with residual Qi. As Huǒ Yànhuā struggled to rise, he tore the sleeve from her robe—only for her to kick off the ground, barely forcing distance between them.
"Hahaha! Why run?" Yang laughed wildly. "It's over for you! You're weaker than me; you've always been weaker. So why keep struggling?"
Huǒ Yànhuā staggered to her feet, a blade pressed against her own throat, her hands shaking.
"I would rather die," she said through clenched teeth.
Yang's grin widened, slow and vicious.
"Oh? You don't say." He tilted his head, voice dripping with mockery. "Did you know my men have been hunting that little boy you care so much about? Ohh, what's his name again, mmm yeah right Lian Xing."
He chuckled softly.
"They haven't found him in over a month. Odds are, he's already dead. Don't worry, you'll be joining him soon. Maybe you'll meet in the hall of Asura."
He took another step forward.
Huǒ Yànhuā's eyes hardened. She tightened her grip—and froze.
"Ah—!" Her body stiffened mid-motion. The blade trembled, refusing to move another inch.
"I—I can't…" She staggered, panic flooding her face.
"Nyaahahahaha!" Yang threw his head back in laughter. "Did you really think I'd let you escape so easily?"
Dark Qi spread beneath Hua's feet like living ink.
"This is my clan's secret art—Shadow Control. Every second you stood there listening, I was setting the array. And now—"
He extended his hand.
"You're finally mine. There's no escape this time."
Huǒ Yànhuā struggled, muscles screaming as she tried to break free, but the invisible restraints tightened like chains.
"Ahh…!" She gasped, teeth clenched.
No matter how much she resisted, the technique did not yield.
Yang smiled.
"Finally, my time has come,"
Yang's hand shot forward, fingers digging into Hua's face, squeezing hard. Her eyes widened with terror—but not a single tear fell. No matter how tightly he held her, she refused to break.
"Tch… tough skin," Yang muttered. His face moved closer, breath brushing her cheek—
Fweeeee—!
A sharp whistling cut through the air. A violent gust erupted between them, blasting Yang backwards and tearing the shadow restraints apart.
Lian burst into the fray.
In one fluid motion, he swept Hua into his arms and retreated, landing several paces away.
"Tsk." Yang spat as he steadied himself. "You little pest… so you're still alive."
He drew the blade at his waist; it was as white as bleached bone, cracked along its length. Each movement made it creak like thunder in a storm.
"Hm," Lian said calmly, lowering Hua to the ground. Her face was flushed—not with blood, but with lingering fear and embarrassment.
"Why is it that every time we meet, you're always surrounded by men like this?"
He set her gently against a broken pillar.
"Stay here," Lian said. "I'll handle it."
He tossed her a pill. "Eat this."
Hua said nothing. She clutched the pill and watched his back as he stepped forward, placing himself between her and Yang.
"What is this feeling…?" she whispered, pressing a hand to her chest, her face ruby red.
"I was teasing him at first, have I fallen in love?"
"Oh?" Yang sneered. "So, you've grown deaf while hiding in these ruins? Looks like you picked up something good—since you're carrying a sword now."
"After I kill you, I will be taking it." Yang continued.
Lian didn't answer.
Instead, he closed his eyes and whispered to the blade still resting in his spirit book.
"There is a vile demon before us. Lend me your strength—and I will deliver justice."
The blade, which had been thrashing violently moments before, suddenly stilled.
Lian drew it.
The moment steel met air, a chilling pressure flooded the battlefield.