Clang! Clang! Clang!

Steel shrieked against steel, birthing showers of sparks that bloomed and died in the chaotic air between them. Han Lie and Xiao Yuruo moved as blurs of violence, their silhouettes weaving through a storm of sword light and blade shadows. Every collision sent shockwaves rippling outward, cracking the earth and forcing the spectators to shield their eyes.

To the untrained eye, it was a battle of life and death. The air trembled with the weight of their spiritual pressure.

But to the discerning elite, something was amiss.

Three hundred exchanges had passed. The landscape was scarred, the noise deafening, yet neither combatant had shed a drop of blood. Their breathing remained steady, their complexions unflushed. It was a spectacle of immense skill, yet devoid of the raw, desperate killing intent that usually defined a duel between Golden Core Perfection cultivators.

While Xiao Qingge and Deacon He Tao watched with bated breath, the disciples of the Myriad Sword Pavilion grew restless. They exchanged confused glances.

“Why is the Young Pavilion Master dragging this out?” one whispered, gripping his hilt. “She should be crushing a mere Heavenly Void cultivator. Why are they evenly matched?”

Clang!

Another thunderous collision forced them apart. Han Lie slid back, his boots carving deep furrows in the dirt. He straightened, dusting off his robes with maddening nonchalance. Across the clearing, Xiao Yuruo floated to a halt, her eyes locking onto his. A silent understanding passed between them.

She raised a hand, pale and elegant as carved jade.

“Enough,” she murmured, though her voice carried across the battlefield like a rolling drum.

A single green lotus materialized above her palm, spinning lazily. It was small, delicate, and radiated a soft, misty luminescence. But as it spun, the space around it began to warp.

“Go.”

The lotus shot upward, expanding with terrifying speed. In a heartbeat, it grew from the size of a fist to a colossus spanning tens of thousands of feet, blotting out the sun. A low, mournful hum resonated through the heavens—the sound of the world groaning under the weight of a supreme artifact.

The Supreme Green Lotus.

A suffocating suction force erupted from the flower’s open maw. Trees, boulders, and debris were ripped from the ground, spiraling upward into the verdant abyss.

“Stabilize the perimeter!” He Tao roared, his face pale as he and Xiao Qingge desperately poured spiritual energy into a barrier to keep from being consumed.

Xiao Yuruo stepped onto the air, her figure framed by the massive, swirling petals of the lotus. She looked down at Han Lie, her expression imperious and cold.

“Do you dare enter my domain, sir?” Her voice was a decree from on high. “Enter the Supreme Green Lotus and settle this. Refuse, and this town—along with everyone in it—will be erased from the map.”

“Brother, don’t go!”

Xiao Qingge lunged forward, grabbing Han Lie’s sleeve with trembling hands. Her eyes were wide, swimming with tears—a perfect picture of the terrified, devoted sister. “It’s a trap! That’s her domain. Once you go inside, you’ll be at her mercy. Please, don’t leave me!”

Han Lie looked down at the girl clinging to his arm. Her performance was impeccable. If he didn’t know better, he might have been moved.

He gently, but firmly, peeled her fingers from his sleeve.

“It is merely a Heaven-grade artifact,” Han Lie said, his voice calm and laced with the arrogance of an old monster. He glanced up at the titanic flower, a faint, cynical smile playing on his lips. “What does this Senior have to fear from a flower arrangement?”

“Brother…”

“Wait here.”

With a flick of his robes, Han Lie stopped resisting the suction. His body lifted from the ground, soaring upward like a mote of dust caught in a gale, vanishing into the glowing heart of the lotus.

Xiao Yuruo followed him instantly.

The massive petals closed. The terrifying suction vanished. The sky cleared, leaving Soul Rest Town in an eerie, battered silence.

“He’s dead,” a Myriad Sword disciple scoffed, breaking the tension. “Arrogant fool. No one survives the Young Master’s domain.”

“Surrender now, scum of the Heavenly Void Sect,” another sneered, eyeing He Tao. “Maybe we’ll leave your corpses intact.”

Xiao Qingge stood frozen, staring at the spot where Han Lie had disappeared. She ignored the taunts, her small hands clenched into fists at her sides. Outwardly, she looked devastated. Inwardly, her mind was racing, calculating odds, her anxiety genuine for the first time. I haven’t assessed his full strength yet. If he dies here, my plans die with him.

Inside the Supreme Green Lotus.

The chaos of the outside world dissolved into tranquility.

Han Lie found himself standing on an invisible floor, suspended in a boundless dimension. Below him, an endless sea of green lotuses swayed in a phantom breeze, stretching to the horizon. Above, a constructed sun bathed the realm in warm, golden light.

The air was sweet, heavy with the scent of spiritual herbs.

“Finally,” a soft voice spoke. “A place without prying eyes.”

Han Lie turned. Xiao Yuruo stood a few paces away. Her sword was sheathed, and the imperious aura of the Young Pavilion Master had vanished, replaced by a look of complex, guarded emotion.

“It has been a long time,” Han Lie said, cupping his hands formally. His tone was dry, lacking the theatrical bluster he used outside. “Fairy Yuruo has grown even more… formidable.”

“Don’t mock me, Daoist Han.” She stepped closer, her eyes scanning his face, searching for traces of the man she remembered. A small, genuine smile touched her lips. “You look younger. Much younger than before.”

“Cultivation has its benefits,” Han Lie replied noncommittally.

“It confirms what I suspected years ago,” she murmured, almost to herself. “You were never truly old. Just… waiting. Once you reach the Nascent Soul stage, perhaps the last of those years will fall away entirely.”

Han Lie offered a vague smile. He had no intention of explaining the intricacies of his longevity or his techniques. “I did not expect our paths to cross here. This Senior was merely running errands for the sect.”

“Errands?” Xiao Yuruo raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Well, my presence is due to my own initiative.”

She briefly recounted the intelligence reports and sect politics that had led her to Soul Rest Town, her guard completely lowered. It was strange, Han Lie thought, how quickly the tension of a death match could evaporate between two people who knew the truth of the world.

But then, her expression darkened. Her gaze sharpened as she looked at him.

“That woman outside,” Xiao Yuruo said, her voice dropping a few degrees. “Xiao Qingge. What is she to you?”

Han Lie sighed, rubbing his temple. “You may not believe this, but I have known Fairy Qingge for less than three days.”

Xiao Yuruo tilted her head, confused. “Three days? And she clings to you like that? Calling you ‘Brother’ and weeping over your safety?”

“It was a mission necessity,” Han Lie said, shaking his head with a cynical chuckle. “As for her behavior… let us just say she is a very ‘familiar’ person. Some might call it enthusiastic.”

“Enthusiastic?” Xiao Yuruo scoffed. The disdain in her voice was palpable. “I know her type. I saw it in her eyes, in the way she positioned herself.”

She took a step forward, her expression turning earnest, almost pleading.

“Daoist Han, you must be careful. Women like Xiao Qingge—petite, charming, overly eager to please—are the most dangerous creatures in the cultivation world. They present a facade of weakness to lower your guard, but inside?” She tapped her chest. “Inside, there is only ambition and darkness.”

Han Lie spread his hands, offering no defense. He knew she was right, of course. That was exactly why he found Xiao Qingge interesting.

“You don’t believe me?” Xiao Yuruo frowned, mistaking his silence for skepticism.

“No, no,” Han Lie assured her quickly. “I believe you implicitly.”

“Good.” Xiao Yuruo crossed her arms, pacing slightly. “Keep your distance from her. If you are not careful, she will stab you in the back the moment you cease to be useful. I would not trust a single soul from a Demonic Sect.”

She paused, realizing who she was talking to. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she cleared her throat.

“Present company excluded, of course.”

Han Lie raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You are different,” she rationalized quickly, her tone firm. “You are from the Servant Disciple Department. You were dragged into their mess. You are not… of them. Not really.”

Han Lie smiled, a genuine, if slightly mocking, expression. It was amusing how the human mind worked—bending logic to preserve a favored narrative. To her, he was the exception to the rule, the diamond in the dung heap.

“I appreciate the distinction,” Han Lie said smoothly. “Now, about this duel…”