The valley had been scoured into a literal sea of lightning. Long Zhi stood at the eye of the storm, her aura churning and boiling as it underwent a final, divine metamorphosis.

With a sudden, explosive surge of vitality, the transition was complete. A Nascent Soul was born.

The moment the tribulation clouds began to fray, a black shadow—moving faster than the mind could track—tore through the dying sparks. It was a killing blow, aimed squarely at Long Zhi while her new power was still settling and her guard was down.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

Without warning, a dozen Earth-grade spirit shields materialized in a glittering wall before her. Though the assassin’s blade sheared through them like parchment, they bought her the heartbeat she needed.

The shields shattered with a deafening crack. Long Zhi flickered away like a stray spark, retreating a hundred yards in an instant. Standing where she had just been was Zhang Xian, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips.

The cloaked assassin lunged again, his black blade carving a crescent of void-energy through the air. Long Zhi stood her ground, her clear eyes narrowing.

“Fall,” she commanded.

BOOM!

A bolt of purple lightning as thick as a temple pillar lanced from the heavens, vaporizing the wave of black energy on impact. It was her signature move: the Purple Empyrean Dragon Roar Mantra.

Long Zhi was deathly pale, her aura ragged and her dress stained with blood, but the newly formed Nascent Soul within her was already flooding her meridians with restorative mana. The Earth-grade pills were doing their work. She stood tall, her gaze sharp enough to cut.

The assassin stared at Zhang Xian, his heart burning with cold fury. He had been a hair’s breadth from a perfect kill. If not for those damn shields, Long Zhi would be a corpse.

“Still want to dance?” Zhang Xian asked, stepping slightly in front of her. “Because if not, we’ve got a schedule to keep.”

The assassin hovered in the air, his silhouette dark as a stagnant pool. He knew the math. Long Zhi was a Nascent Soul now; even injured, her mutated Thunder Root was a hard counter to his corruption. And then there was Zhang Xian—a man who treated high-value artifacts like throwing pebbles and whose true body was still missing. His divine sense confirmed it: the boy in front of him was yet another puppet.

“Damn you,” the shadow hissed, the weight of his helplessness absolute.

“So this is a Nascent Soul ‘Demon’?” Zhang Xian’s tone turned conversational, almost bored. “I’m underwhelmed. Anyway, see you around… Ex-Husband Bro.”

The words “Ex-Husband Bro” hit the assassin like a poisoned needle.

“What nonsense are you spouting?” the shadow spat, his voice trembling.

“His aura just hitched,” Long Zhi noted coolly. “His spiritual flow staggered for a full second.”

“Tsk, don’t expose him, Fellow Daoist,” Zhang Xian chuckled. “Maybe he’s just showing us a ‘weakness’ on purpose. It doesn’t matter.”

Zhang Xian turned to Long Zhi with a brilliant grin. “The tournament is over, the trash is cleared out, and I’ve got a wedding to get to. I really should go back and marry my bride.”

The assassin snapped. He became a blur of ink, his black sword descending in a vertical cleave meant to split the world.

“Bind!” Long Zhi shouted. Her fingers traced an elegant sigil in the air, and a massive web of violet electricity unfurled between them.

Sizzle!

The black sword light slammed into the net. Thunder and corruption screamed as they annihilated one another, the shockwave rattling the valley, but the barrier held.

“Let’s move!” Zhang Xian called out. “Escort me back, Long Zhi. This puppet cost me a fortune; I’d hate to leave it here as scrap metal.”

Long Zhi nodded. “Understood.”

A platform of purple lightning swept beneath the puppet, and the two of them transformed into a twin streak of light, vanishing over the horizon before the assassin could strike again.

CRACK!

The assassin finally shattered the net, but he didn’t give chase. He stood alone in the desolate valley, his knuckles white as he gripped his sword. Wisps of black mist bled from the blade, matching the silent rage radiating from his body.

After a long silence, he activated a communication talisman. “I failed. Zhang Xian escaped. Long Zhi has ascended.”

A heavy silence followed before a reply crackled through. “It is no matter. The ambush was a whim. Lie low and refine the Black-White Origin. The Southern Region will fall eventually. Only then will you return to the light.”

“Zhang Xian knows who I am,” the shadow said softly. He tucked the talisman away and looked at the empty sky, his solitary figure looking strangely small against the vast, indifferent landscape.

An hour later, the towering spires of Yujing City appeared through the clouds. Long Zhi slowed her flight, her complexion finally showing a hint of healthy color.

“We are safe here,” she said. She raised her hand, preparing to wipe her spiritual imprint from the lightning sword Zhang Xian had given her.

“Wait,” the puppet said.

Long Zhi paused. “This sword belongs to you. It must be returned.”

“Keep it,” Zhang Xian said with a casual wave. “Your own blade is in pieces, and as you saw, I’ve got spares to burn. The world is going to hell, and a Nascent Soul with the right tool is worth more to me than a sword in a box. Don’t let formalities get in the way of survival.”

Long Zhi’s grip on the hilt tightened ever so slightly. The sword was a perfect match for her—better than anything she had ever owned. After a moment of silence, she looked at him. “Very well. When I repair my original blade, I will return this.”

“Actually, give the broken one to me,” Zhang Xian suggested. “I’ve got a knack for smithing. I’ll see if I can restore it. Once it’s fixed, we can swap back.”

Long Zhi considered this. It felt less like a charity case if it was a trade for services. She reached into her storage pouch and handed over the shattered, lightless remnant of her old sword.

Zhang Xian took the jagged steel and tucked it away.

[Ding! Spirit Sword received. Triggering Return…] [Reward: Spirit Treasure Essence x10.] [Spirit Treasure Essence (Earth-Grade): A concentrated catalyst. Fusing this with a tool elevates its quality to a Low-Grade Spirit Treasure, with a rare chance for Mid-Grade.]