Bai Ling exhaled, the tension finally leaving her small frame—or so she thought.

The moment the jade scroll inscribed with the Yin Yang Demonic Art materialized, the atmosphere in the valley sharpened. Zhao Batian’s permanently squinted eyes snapped wide open, revealing pupils that burned with avarice.

A disciple beside him moved like a viper, snatching the scroll from Bai Ling’s trembling hands before she could blink.

“You…!” Bai Ling gasped.

Zhao Batian ignored her. His fingers danced over the jade, his spiritual sense probing the contents. “It is real! The Yin Yang Demonic Art!”

He threw his head back, laughter echoing off the canyon walls. “Hahahaha!”

“Where are my parents?” Bai Ling demanded, her voice cracking. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain!”

Zhao Batian lowered the scroll, his smile returning to its default, placid setting. “Sister Bai, patience is a virtue. Since the mission is complete, come back with me to the sect. You can see your family… eventually.”

The implication hit Bai Ling like a physical blow. There was no freedom waiting for her in the Sun Moon Sect—only a dungeon, or worse. She had been betrayed, used, and now, discarded.

“You… you liar!” she cried, tears spilling over.

Whoosh!

A blur of motion cut through the air. Zhao Batian, sensing the shift in wind, snatched at the scroll—but he grasped only empty air.

Han Lie stood ten paces away, one arm wrapped securely around Bai Ling’s waist, the jade scroll spinning lazily in his other hand.

“Old Man Han?” Bai Ling sobbed, burying her face in his chest. “I’m sorry… I was so useless!”

“Hush,” Han Lie murmured, patting her shoulder. “You did your part.”

“And who might you be?” Zhao Batian asked, his voice silky but edged with danger.

“I am your grandfather, Han Lie,” Han Lie replied, his tone bored.

“Han Lie?” Zhao Batian’s eyes narrowed. “Your name has been ringing in my ears lately like thunder. Put down the scroll, and I might let you leave intact.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then…” Zhao Batian raised a hand. Arcs of blue lightning crackled around his fingers, the air sizzling with the scent of ozone. “I will teach you what it feels like to be struck by heaven’s wrath.”

Han Lie grinned, a feral, cynical expression. “Is that so? To be honest, my bones have been feeling a bit stiff. A little lightning might be just the massage I need. Can you satisfy me?”

Zhao Batian’s smile vanished. His face twisted into a mask of pure malice.

Boom!

The valley floor exploded with movement. From the ridge above, Zhuo Hongyi, Qin Lan, and the twenty-two Law Enforcement disciples descended like falcons. Simultaneously, the forest behind Zhao Batian erupted as Sun Moon Sect ambushers charged forward—led by none other than Li Qingyu and a second Nascent Soul cultivator.

It was a trap within a trap.

“Bai Ling, you traitor!” Zhao Batian roared over the din. “Your entire clan is rotting in our dungeons! Do you want them all to die?”

Bai Ling opened her mouth to scream, but Han Lie silenced her with a gesture.

“Treating a genius like cattle,” Han Lie said, his voice amplified by qi. “Why should she be loyal to a sect of butchers?”

He waved the jade scroll tauntingly. “You want this, don’t you, Holy Son?”

Zhao Batian’s eye twitched. “Fine. I release her family. You give me the scroll.”

“A fair trade,” Han Lie mused. “But… I refuse.”

“What?” Zhao Batian froze. “You don’t care about her family?”

“Oh, we’ll save them,” Han Lie said, his grin widening. “But we won’t trade the scroll. We’ll trade you.”

Zhao Batian blinked, the absurdity of the statement processing slowly. Then, he laughed—a cold, incredulous sound. “You want to capture me? A Golden Core trash wants to kidnap a Holy Son?”

“Kill the rest,” Han Lie ordered, ignoring the mockery. “Capture Zhao Batian alive.”

“Kill them all!” Zhao Batian screamed. “Leave the girl, butcher the rest!”

The valley erupted into chaos. Zhuo Hongyi launched herself at Li Qingyu, their collision sending shockwaves through the air. Qin Lan engaged the second Nascent Soul elder.

Han Lie and Zhao Batian stood amidst the storm, eyes locked.

“You wanted lightning?” Zhao Batian hissed.

KRAKOOM!

A bolt of lightning, thick as a tree trunk, descended from the clear sky, aiming straight for Han Lie’s skull.

Han Lie didn’t dodge. He raised a single hand. Golden fire surged from his palm, meeting the blue lightning in a catastrophic explosion. The lightning shattered, harmless sparks raining down around him.

Zhao Batian’s eyes widened slightly. “You blocked it? Not bad for a nobody.”

“I’m just a humble servant disciple,” Han Lie quipped, shaking his hand out.

“Liar,” Zhao Batian spat. He stomped the air, launching himself forward, wreathed in electricity.

Han Lie met him head-on.

BANG!

Palm met palm. Fire met lightning. The impact created a vacuum that silenced the battlefield for a heartbeat before the shockwave threw dirt and trees into the air. They were locked in a stalemate, gold and blue energies grinding against each other.

“You’re the first peer to match me,” Zhao Batian said, excitement creeping into his voice.

“You’re not bad yourself,” Han Lie admitted. The Pure Yang Sacred Body was the ultimate Yang; Lightning was the wrath of Heaven. It was diamond cutting diamond.

They broke apart, skidding back hundreds of meters.

Zhao Batian summoned a silver umbrella, spinning it open. “Thunder Roar!”

Dark clouds swirled instantly, blotting out the sun. Lightning rained down like spears.

Han Lie summoned Crimson Oath. “Soul Severing!”

He slashed. A massive crimson crescent tore through the air, shattering the lightning bolts and rushing toward Zhao Batian. The Holy Son threw his umbrella, blocking the attack with a deafening clang.

“Hah! Excellent!” Han Lie roared, his blood boiling. “Show me more!”

“As you wish!” Zhao Batian caught his umbrella and vanished, reappearing directly above Han Lie. The tip of the umbrella glowed with blinding white light.

“Lightning Emperor Canon: Thunderous Wrath!”

The sky turned white. A sea of lightning crashed down, threatening to erase Han Lie from existence.

Han Lie looked up, his expression calm. He whispered a single word.

“Unity.”

Vwoom.

All sound vanished. The Crimson Oath dissolved into red mist, fusing with Han Lie. He became the blade; the blade became him. A singular, piercing beam of red light shot upward, piercing the sea of lightning.

BOOM!

The explosion was blinding. When the dust settled, Han Lie stood untouched, a crater around him. Zhao Batian hovered above, panting, his umbrella smoking.

“Impossible…” Zhao Batian whispered.

Han Lie pointed his blade at the Holy Son. “Round two?”