The sword-light was a silver flash. The roar that followed was thunderous.
In that instant, Zhao Xuhe's head left his shoulders. But before it could hit the ground, his body exploded into a shower of dry, clattering bones.
"Which fellow disciple lies in wait for me?" A wisp of gloomy energy shot out from the bone pile, coalescing a hundred meters away into a pale, panic-stricken Zhao Xuhe.
His words were cut short. The sword-light was already upon him—a relentless, homing star.
Whoosh—!
Another decapitation. Another burst of bones. The yin energy retreated another hundred meters, re-forming him.
"I—"
Boom!
"You—"
Crack!
"ENOUGH!"
Over a dozen cycles of decapitation and reformation later, Zhao Xuhe finally wrested a sliver of space. He flicked his sleeve, releasing a cloud of crimson miasma that enveloped him in a protective haze. He gulped down healing pills, his eyes darting wildly as he assessed the blurred, shifting landscape around him.
"Lü Yang! It's you!"
Rage ignited in his eyes. He'd recognized the sword technique—the Divine Firmament Sword Control Art. But the power behind it… this was no early-stage Qi Refining cultivator. In mere days, Lü Yang had breached the Mid-Stage.
He has a secret. A great one.
Zhao Xuhe's fury was drowned by a surge of avaricious joy. Perfect. Today, I claim two fortunes!
Outside the hazy perimeter of the Four Illusions Array, Lü Yang's expression was grim.
Troublesome.
He'd been ruthless, yet Zhao Xuhe had clung to life, surviving his opening barrage. The man's hidden life-saving art was formidable.
But Lü Yang held the advantage: anonymity. Hidden by the array, attacking from the shadows with his flying sword, he could wage a war of attrition. Zhao Xuhe, already wounded and drained, was on the back foot.
Inside the maze, Zhao Xuhe's mind raced. The array was crude; with time, he could break it. But time was a luxury Lü Yang wouldn't grant.
"Brother Lü," he called out, forcing calm into his voice. "In truth, there is no great enmity between us."
Go!
Lü Yang gave him no quarter. The sword-light shot forth again.
"You refuse reason? Then suffer!" Zhao Xuhe's gaze turned to ice. Abandoning diplomacy, he formed a hand seal. A golden iron seal materialized in the air, humming with power.
The Primordial Magnetic Golden Seal—a treasure designed to subdue all metallic weapons, his secret trump card against the swordsmen of the Jade Pivot Sword Pavilion. Now, he unleashed it early to pin down Lü Yang's dancing blade.
"Suppress!"
The seal flashed. One streaking sword-light was caught, frozen in the air as if trapped in amber.
Lü Yang wasn't perturbed. This was a contest of stamina now. He was at his peak; Zhao Xuhe was depleted. Let him waste energy suppressing the sword.
My greatest strength is that I remain unseen. He can't target what he can't find. As long as I stay hidden, I win.
He made his decision: He would not reveal himself.
"Boom!"
From outside the array, Lü Yang marshaled his Qi. A massive, translucent Innate Qi Great Handprint condensed and slammed into the misty barrier. No finesse, just brute, draining force.
Zhao Xuhe's face darkened. His opponent was cunning, refusing to take the bait for a decisive clash.
Damn him!
His energy reserves dwindled. Desperation clawed at him. He couldn't die here, not after securing his destiny!
"Brother Lü!" he shouted. "Do you know what I obtained on Panlong Isle? A third-grade true inheritance! A path straight to the Golden Core! Cease now, and I swear to share it with you!"
Outside, Lü Yang stiffened.
A third-grade true skill. The key to the Golden Core realm. An opportunity that could define a cultivator's entire lifetime.
His breath hitched. Greed, hot and immediate, flared in his chest.
No. Wait.
He forced the feeling down, settling back into his hidden position. This is the trap. The lure. Show yourself, and you lose.
"How about it, Brother Lü? A truce?" Zhao Xuhe pressed.
A distorted voice echoed from all around the maze: "Fool! If I kill you, the technique is mine anyway!"
"You are mistaken, Brother Lü," Zhao Xuhe shook his head, a strained smile on his face. "Opportunities are predestined. This technique is my reward for three lifetimes of accumulated merit. It has no affinity for you. Kill me, and it will vanish, beyond your grasp."
Predestined? Lü Yang's mind reeled. The technique would… flee?
He quickly scoffed internally. Nonsense. A desperate lie.
"If that's so," Lü Yang's voice echoed coldly, "why should I spare you for it?"
"Because I can make it have affinity for you!" Zhao Xuhe's words came in a rushed, persuasive torrent. "If I willingly share it, the 'no affinity' becomes 'affinity'! You can have the 'Ten Thousand Chariots Dragon Ascension Treasure Scroll'—the Foundation Establishment volume! You keep it as collateral!"
Silence hung in the mist.
"…Fine." Lü Yang's voice conceded. "Give me the scroll. I'll release the array."
"Agreed!"
Zhao Xuhe produced the jade case, opening it to reveal two manuals. "The 'Nine Transformations Dragon Art' for Qi Refining. The 'Ten Thousand Chariots Dragon Ascension Treasure Scroll' for Foundation Building, the gateway to the Golden Core." He lifted the second scroll. "But I am wounded, my Qi weak. If I give you this now, what's to stop you from breaking our deal?"
"Then give me the Foundation Establishment scroll first," Lü Yang's voice reasoned, smooth as silk. "I'm only at Qi Refining. I can't cultivate it yet. It's worthless to me as a weapon. You keep the Qi Refining volume. Once you're free and safe, you transmit the 'Nine Transformations Dragon Art' to me. A show of good faith."
Zhao Xuhe weighed the logic. It made a twisted sense. The Foundation Establishment scroll was a hostage he could afford to lose temporarily.
"A deal!"
He held out the Ten Thousand Chariots Dragon Ascension Treasure Scroll. A surge of invisible Qi from the mist snatched it from his hand.
Hidden away, Lü Yang scanned the scroll, committing every character, every diagram to flawless memory. The complex, profound method seared itself into his mind.
A slow, fierce grin spread across his face, unseen in the gloom.
Got it.
"Farewell," his voice whispered through the array.
Before Zhao Xuhe could process the word, a terrifying, concentrated wave of killing intent erupted from the heart of the mist—a final, violent pulse that contained no attack, only… release.
BOOM.
A shockwave of pure life-force annihilation rippled out, then vanished.
The mist slowly cleared. The illusion array fizzled out.
Zhao Xuhe stood alone amidst settling dust, utterly bewildered. The scroll in his hand was gone, disintegrated by the blast.
He felt no victory. Only a hollow, dizzying confusion.
He… self-destructed?
Why? WHY?
Why get the technique just to die? Why not escape? I hadn't even seen the scroll myself!
"Lü… Yang…"
Zhao Xuhe stood in the sudden quiet, the name a curse on his lips. The sheer, incomprehensible waste of it all—the ultimate, spiteful bluff—congealed into a fury so pure it twisted his features.
He stared at the empty space where his future and his foe had vanished together, and a raw, guttural scream was torn from his throat.
"YOU BEAST!"