“At his age, to stir a sliver of Shattered Light—that’s real talent, little brother of the Mizumi Clan. And Wanxin, fallen to early Origin Realm—pitiful as a withered reed. Even so, he still insists on crossing her teacher, Xinuo, like a moth butting a shrine lamp.”
She stood by the prison like a shadow on stone, yet no one saw the girl, not even Wanxin; she was air slipping through bars, mist against the wall.
As for Wilsar and Molor, she had no urge to block them; she’d come with a blade-thin purpose—to stop anyone from prying Wanxin out, nothing more.
“Mm, I can pin Wanxin for a bit. The other two goons, I’ll leave to the Mizumi clan—prey meant for their net anyway.”
Decision settled, the girl folded her patience like a fan and went back to watching the play, eyes bright as lanterns in rain.
On the way, she sensed Wanxin readying a move, and she stopped him without a ripple, like a hand pressing calm over rising water.
Because this time Wanxin aimed at Emperor, who’d roused a trace of Shattered Light. To her, that was stepping on temple incense—an affront to the one she revered most, Xinuo, since Shattered Light is his life-bound Origin Artifact. She couldn’t sit and watch the altar burn.
…
Give it ten, twenty minutes and Wilsar with Molor would slip off this floor like eels through reeds. With their tricks, escaping the Soulless Sanctuary wasn’t hopeless; after that, fate would cast the lots.
So Wanxin’s aim was simple—stall for time. He knew he was crossing the Mizumi Clan, who had Xinuo at their back, yet less offense is still better than scorched bridges. That’s why he kept tripping Emperor’s side rather than striking; it’s fine to be disliked, just don’t salt the earth into a life-death feud. Leave a plank on the bridge, and you can cross again.
Even a sliver of Shattered Light pressed down like a mountain on the chest, making breath rasp like winter wind. He sighed at his creaking old bones, unsure they could bear more tossing by the tide.
If he didn’t move now to halt Emperor’s party, Wilsar and Molor would be found in under three minutes, as quick as hawks sighting mice. Regret stabbed cold; why had he agreed so loosely at the start without clarity? Now he stood in a knot, pulled both ways.
“No help for it. I’ll see it through for them, for Lord Xiyue’s sake,” he thought, a tired candle burning to its end.
He exhaled without sound. As Emperor’s Sword Domain unfurled again like a field of blades, Wanxin drew in the Primordial Source like storm-clouds gathering.
Even weakened, Wanxin could handle Emperor’s group with ease; the only thorn was the Primordial Source housed in Shattered Light and Ice Illusion Moon, two stars with their own fire. Luckily, Emperor and Lixue could only tease out a trace; with more effort, he could cap the pot again.
Only Emperor was tapping the Source this time, and Wanxin let out a small breath, like steam from a teacup. Emperor and Lixue weren’t grown yet, their strength still green, but Origin Artifacts are honest steel, and that pounded his temples like a drum.
?!
As Wanxin lifted his hand, dread sluiced over him like ice water down the spine; cold sweat beaded like dew. Only an Origin Realm presence could cast that shadow—and stronger than him by far.
“This aura… trouble like thunder. It’s Lotus. Why would she come… no, likely on Sir Xino’s word. Wilsar, Molor, I’ll spend my last strength on you two. Whether you live will be up to the river of heaven.”
Lotus—the progenitor of magic, high-stage Origin Realm. In the Prime Realm, aside from Xinuo, none stood above her. Like FrostyLily Dream, she worshiped Xinuo; half the seal on Wanxin was her handiwork—a chain forged from his own Primordial Source, a lock that used his marrow to bind his bones.
In Lotus’s eyes, any who defied Xinuo were dust in a temple breeze. To her, Xinuo was truth and creed, an altar in the heart that never dims.
So she favored the Mizumi Clan, a pine leaning toward the mountain that shelters it, since Xinuo stood as their backing.
Now, seeing Wanxin take shots at Mizumi folk again and again, Lotus would, of course, move to stop him; and Emperor was Xinuo’s disciple besides, a fact that pricked like a thorn. Wanxin knew that angering Lotus would flay him even if it didn’t kill him, but after countless years under the lash, what was one more stripe?
It was one reason he chose to help to the bitter end; a dead boar doesn’t fear boiling water. More, beings of the Origin Realm weigh their promises like iron rings; once spoken, they must ram through or their heart-lake will ripple and crack.
“Trouble really does ride the tongue. I shouldn’t have promised so lightly. Fine—time to try that move. First use, big risk, but a knife’s edge of life beats sitting for the axe.”
He gave a wry smile; resolve hardened in his eyes like steel under frost.
Sealed here for ages, he’d done nothing and everything. His strength had slipped back like a river in drought, yet his grasp of the Primordial Source grew roots in the dark, deeper than his prime—years of study poured into a single well.
Knowing Lotus was present, he still dared to help Wilsar and Molor flee the Soulless Sanctuary. He had a card to play, and it was—
“Chaotic Spacetime.”
He moved before Lotus, a spark leaping the gap. It was a new technique he’d ground out over countless years, like random teleportation, but higher, stranger.
Chaotic Spacetime could snatch chosen people and objects and fling them to a world’s most hidden corner or a veiled plane, then hush every trace of their breath and being for a time. He couldn’t fool Xinuo, not ever, but he might slip past Lotus if she didn’t scour the world with full force.
Power like that demanded a price. Though the Primordial Source was the root of his seal, over long years he’d stored a portion he could still move, like coins stashed under a floorboard.
One cast, and years of savings emptied like a jar smashed on stone. But these stores couldn’t break the seal anyway; better to spend them, to fulfill the promise he’d given and lay a plank across this chasm.
…
“Good. I’ve found the trail of those two… what?!”
Through my Sword Intent, I felt Wilsar and Molor nearby, like ripples in a pond under moonlight. I was about to have Aunt Saintvoice and the others grab them when disaster snapped like a trap.
Their figures vanished in an instant, snuffed like candles, as if something gulped them down. I didn’t need to think hard to know Wanxin’s hand was in it.
On top of that, Shattered Light in my grip and Lixue’s Ice Illusion Moon flared like twin stars, and whoosh—an unseen pull yanked us in together with our blades (of course it was Wanxin!).
It all happened so fast, like lightning over dry hills, that no one present had time to move.
…
“Ah, careless of me. I didn’t expect Wanxin to keep this card.” In the shadows, Lotus murmured to herself, voice like a quiet stream under ice. “Where they went… mm, nicely hidden. I can’t find it in a snap, but I can tell there’s a chance there. Whether they seize it depends on the two kids’ fortune. Fitting, letting them take revenge with their own hands.”
She’d come mainly to keep an eye on Wanxin and reinforce the seal, the rest a passing breeze. She wouldn’t chase Emperor and Lixue, and she wouldn’t show herself before Holy Voice, Qianji, and the others.
But for what Wanxin had dared under her eyelids, a lesson was already waiting like a switch behind the door.
