Earlier, when Carola had asked Yihan if he had a plan, he hadn’t answered.

He did have one: get close to Lia, wait for her to wake, then borrow her power to fight their way out.

But even Yihan wasn’t sure if it would work—let alone how Carola would view it.

For starters, whether Lia would even have strength left to fight after waking was uncertain. Worse, once her energy barrier faded, there was no telling if she’d retain any consciousness. That’s why he hadn’t wanted Carola taking such risks. If things went south, at least she wouldn’t be dragged down with him.

Now, he pinned his hopes on the still-unsettled threads of causality. If the outcome five years from now didn’t deviate drastically, his plan might just hold.

Of course, that sliver of hope vanished the moment a Fallen Cult member blocked his path.

Soul Valley Town wasn’t populous. Few dared charge into the raging theater fire. That’s when the tax-funded guards should’ve stepped up—but Yihan had lured those burly fools away. Now, barely anyone remained. The mayor and officials were absent. Alone, Yihan charged forward, a lone warrior marching toward certain doom.

Facing these inhuman Sorceresses sent chills down his spine. Their silent, sudden appearances were like desert cobras—one careless move, and their venom would kill. He regretted not asking Carola for magic scrolls or gear. If only he’d had some…

All Fallen Cult members dressed alike, making identification impossible. But the icy glare beneath that hood? Nine out of ten, it was the one he’d nearly kicked into oblivion.

As the distance closed, Yihan feigned tossing a stone from his left hand. Meanwhile, a slender cleaver slid silently halfway out of his right sleeve—his true weapon.

To defeat these spellcasters, only unexpected physical strikes would work.

*Buzz—*

A strange, low vibration surged through the ground, flooding the street. Yihan’s eyes snapped wide. His ears throbbed as if filled with molten lead. His limbs locked. He nearly collapsed.

*This distance should work…* Gritting his teeth, he hurled the stone. Just as he’d predicted, the enemy dodged right with agile grace.

Before the stone hit the ground, Yihan’s cleaver flashed through the air—*thunk!*—piercing the enemy’s right shoulder. Blood gushed.

Agony crumpled the figure. It swayed, then crashed face-first onto the pavement, twitching.

*That easy?* Even Yihan couldn’t believe it. His first takedown had been effortless. He’d braced for broken bones, yet in under three seconds, one enemy lay defeated.

Shock didn’t slow him. He leaped forward, driving a ruthless knee strike straight into the fallen foe’s face. The hood flipped back, revealing ashen scalp and sparse, short hair.

Yihan yanked the cleaver free, grabbed the collar, and slammed the body against the wall—all in one fluid motion.

“Hah—piece of cake.” He smirked at the enemy, eyes rolled back like a dead fish’s. *A human defeating a Sorceress? Few on this continent could boast such a feat.*

A stinging pain on his skin snapped him from his pride. He glanced back—black lightning crackled from all directions, encircling him.

While he’d beaten one cultist, the other five had silently closed in. Their first strike was a killing blow.

*This is it—* Yihan froze. Nowhere to dodge.

A far fiercer blizzard crashed down from the sky. Ice shards shattered the black lightning. Through the rolling cold, a small, swift figure plummeted—landing before Yihan with an icy gust.

From ahead came a furious, disgusted shout: “You actually used the ‘lure the tiger from the mountain’ trick? Don’t you have *better* ways to handle the Fallen Cult?”

“If I had your Spellcraft, I’d have a hundred solutions,” Yihan shot back. Still, relief warmed him. Carola’s arrival balanced the odds. Five cultists were manageable now.

“Aren’t you gone? Why come back?”

“Someone here nearly killed me. Think I’d let that debt slide?”

Carola snorted. Her dark blue hair lifted, glowing silver-blue. Around her, the blizzard whirled violently. Thousands of ice shards materialized, forming layered barriers of frost.

“Can you hold them off? I need to wake Lia.”

“I can try—but not for long. What’s your backup plan?”

“I’ll see if she’ll fight alongside you.”

“A Witch and a Witch Hunter fighting together? Are you mad? How can you be sure she won’t attack everything on sight the moment she wakes?”

“We have to try.”

Yihan pivoted toward the cage. A cultist moved to intercept—but Carola, still seething from their earlier ambush, unleashed her fury. With no civilians nearby, she summoned a ten-meter ice mountain, crushing the attacker and blocking the path between Yihan and the rest.

“Who ambushed me last time? Show yourself!”

Shielded by Carola’s barrier, Yihan reached the half-destroyed cage. Inside, Lia lay motionless, breathing evenly. Her faint crimson energy barrier had thinned to near-invisibility, exposing patches of her skin. No scorching heat radiated from her now.

Heart pounding, Yihan grabbed her arm and shook her.

“Wake up—Lia, wake up!”

Her body felt heavy as a sack of stones. No response.

Behind him, Carola clashed with the five cultists. Stone and ice flew. On the surface, she dominated—pinning five foes alone. But Yihan knew it was temporary. Her reckless assault was a gamble, banking everything on him waking Lia.

If Lia didn’t stir, they’d be trapped like rats.

Then—a flicker. His persistent shaking and shouts finally reached her. To his joy, Lia’s eyelids fluttered open. Her unfocused gaze drifted toward the vast sky.

*Thank goodness—*

Before he could cry out, a violent spasm seized his brain. The world twisted, blurred. Darkness surged like a tidal wave, drowning his consciousness without mercy.

*No—*

At the worst moment, he was waking up again.