Above Soul Rest Town, the sky burned with the colors of a dying sun.

The air was thick with tension, a suffocating silence hanging over the opposing camps of the Heavenly Void Sect and the Myriad Sword Pavilion. Hours had passed since the massive, spinning form of the Supreme Green Lotus had swallowed the two combatants. To the disciples below, it was a black box of unknown horrors.

They had no idea that inside that pocket dimension, the bitter enemies were currently chatting like old friends.

Suddenly, the lotus shuddered.

A low hum vibrated through the atmosphere, drawing every eye upward. The petals began to unfurl, revealing a rift in the fabric of space.

Boom!

A violent shockwave erupted from the opening.

Two figures emerged, but the symmetry of the duel was shattered in an instant. One figure stood firm in the air, robes fluttering but composure untouched. The other was blasted backward, trailing a mist of spiritual energy.

“Young Pavilion Master!”

“Impossible… she lost?”

The disciples of the Myriad Sword Pavilion watched in horror as Xiao Yuruo stabilized herself in the air, clutching her chest. Her face was pale, and a striking thread of crimson blood stained the corner of her lips. Her aura, usually a roaring ocean, was now turbulent and dim.

Across the sky, Han Lie’s pupils contracted to pinpoints.

He stared at the woman in the distance, his mind reeling with a mixture of confusion and shock. This wasn’t the plan.

Xiao Yuruo wiped the blood from her chin with a trembling hand. Her gaze was icy, but her voice carried a resolute finality that echoed across the valley.

“Today… I am inferior. I will honor our agreement.”

She straightened her back, refusing to let her injury diminish her regal bearing. “This matter ends here. But do not mistake this for peace. The enmity between the Myriad Sword Pavilion and the Heavenly Void Sect is far from resolved.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She didn’t wait for her stunned disciples to process the defeat. She simply turned and transformed into a streak of sword light, tearing through the horizon.

The Myriad Sword disciples exchanged glances of dismay. Their invincible Young Pavilion Master had fallen. What point was there for them—mere small fry—to stay and feed kills to the enemy? Defeated and demoralized, they scrambled to follow her retreating light.

For a moment, silence held the town. Then, the dam broke.

“Han Lie!”

“Han Lie! Han Lie!”

The roar from the Heavenly Void Sect’s side was deafening. Disciples punched the air, screaming his name until their throats were raw. It wasn’t just a victory; it was a humiliation of a rival power.

“He actually… won?” Deacon He Tao stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape. He had hoped for a draw, prayed for survival. But a decisive victory against the genius of the Chen Clan? That was beyond his wildest calculations.

“As expected! Brother is amazing!”

A soft, fragrant wind hit Han Lie as Xiao Qingge threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his bicep. Her face was a mask of adoration, her eyes sparkling with tears of relief.

“I was so scared! If you hadn’t won, that woman would have dragged me away!” She looked up at him, her voice dripping with sugar. “Brother, why do you look so serious? You won! Aren’t you happy?”

Han Lie blinked, the noise of the celebration fading into the background. “I’m fine,” he said, forcing a calm smile. “I told you not to worry. This Senior never lies.”

But his mind was thousands of miles away.

Inside the Lotus…

They had agreed on a draw. They were supposed to exit and engage in a final, flashy exchange that would push them apart evenly.

But at the threshold, right as the portal opened, Xiao Yuruo had turned her palm inward. Without hesitation, she had slammed a devastating strike into her own chest, using the momentum to fling herself backward as if hit by Han Lie.

The image of her pale face and the blood on her lips burned in his memory.

‘If the two sects go to war, I am willing to die under Daoist Han’s blade.’

She hadn’t just thrown the fight; she had handed him prestige, safety, and status within his sect on a silver platter. By losing to him, she elevated his standing, making him indispensable to the Heavenly Void Sect. She had hurt herself to protect him.

Han Lie felt a strange, unfamiliar tightening in his chest. Guilt? Gratitude?

He was an old monster. He dealt in transactions, schemes, and benefits. He understood lust, greed, and ambition. But this foolish, self-destructive sacrifice?

Is this… love?

He looked down at Xiao Qingge, who was still chirping praises in his ear, her grip on his arm possessive and tight. He didn’t hear a word she said.

Ten days passed.

Han Lie and Xiao Qingge remained in Soul Rest Town to oversee the aftermath. The area was quiet. The Sun Moon Sect, having lost their entire team to Han Lie’s blade, was likely still in the dark about the massacre. The Myriad Sword Pavilion, reeling from their Young Mistress’s defeat, remained silent.

On the day of their departure, Deacon He Tao approached Han Lie with a stack of jade slips.

“Brother Han, since you are returning to the sect, please deliver these requests to the Law Enforcement Hall,” He Tao said, respectful but exhausted. “We need fresh disciples for the mines, new management to replace the dead, and funds to rebuild the town. It’s a mess.”

Han Lie accepted the task with a nod.

Moments later, amidst the thunderous cheers of hundreds of miners and disciples, Han Lie and Xiao Qingge ascended into the sky, turning toward the Heavenly Void Sect.

The wind rushed past them as they flew. Xiao Qingge maneuvered her flying sword closer to his, her expression shifting from cheerful to concerned.

“Brother~” she called out over the wind. “You’ve been absent-minded these past few days. Is something weighing on your heart?”

“It is nothing,” Han Lie dismissed, offering a practiced, easy smile. “Just cultivation matters.”

“Is that so?” Xiao Qingge pouted slightly, her eyes searching his face. “If Brother has worries, you can share them with me. I might not be as strong as you, but… I am very good at listening.”

When Han Lie remained silent, she giggled softly, changing tactics.

“Oh, right! Brother, I still remember.”

Han Lie raised an eyebrow. “Remember what?”

“That day in the inn,” she teased, flying closer until their sleeves brushed. “I asked you a question, and you never answered it.”

Han Lie paused, the memory surfacing. She had asked if he had someone he liked.

“Did you?” He feigned ignorance. “My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

“Liar! Let me remind you,” Xiao Qingge persisted, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you have a woman in your heart?”

Han Lie looked ahead at the rolling clouds. The image of a woman in white, spitting blood to save his reputation, flashed in his mind. Then, the image of the Sect Leader, imperious and cold.

“I do,” Han Lie admitted, his voice calm. “I do have someone I like.”

Xiao Qingge’s eyes widened. The playfulness vanished for a split second, replaced by a sharp, calculating gleam, before the mask of the innocent sister slammed back into place.

“Really?” She leaned in, her voice trembling with feigned excitement. “Who is it? Can Brother tell me? Is she pretty? Is she from our sect?”

Han Lie turned to look at her. He saw the curiosity, but he also sensed the jealousy lurking beneath the surface. To name Xiao Yuruo would be to paint a target on her back.

He smiled, an enigmatic curve of his lips that gave nothing away.

“You are very curious for such a young girl,” he said softly.