“Roar!”

The ice shattered, exploding outward in a shower of glittering shards. A roar, deep and resonant like the grinding of tectonic plates, shook the foundations of the ancient hall. The air itself seemed to curdle as the Raging War Bear-Tiger pulled itself free, its massive paws crushing the stone floor beneath them.

It opened eyes burning with scarlet malice, unleashing a suffocating pressure that would have brought a lesser cultivator to their knees.

Han Lie merely raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Is that all?” he murmured, his voice cutting through the beast’s thunderous display.

He analyzed the creature with the cold precision of an old monster. Golden Core Perfection. In his past life, perhaps a threat; in this life, with his foundation forged in the fires of the Pure Yang Sacred Body, it was little more than livestock waiting for the butcher.

“Awoo—!”

The beast lunged, a mountain of fur and muscle moving with terrifying speed. Han Lie didn’t retreat. He stepped into the charge, his movement fluid and precise.

The Crimson Oath flashed—a blur of blood-red light.

There was no grand duel, no desperate struggle. Han Lie sidestepped a paw the size of a carriage and thrust his blade upward. The saber sank into the beast’s chest with a sickening wet thud, piercing heart and bone alike.

The massive creature stiffened, a gurgling whimper replacing its roar.

Then came the hunger.

The Crimson Oath hummed, a vibration that traveled up Han Lie’s arm and into his very marrow. It was drinking. The beast’s massive frame began to wither visible, its vitality siphoned away in torrents of crimson energy.

Boom!

The desiccated husk of the War Bear-Tiger collapsed, turning to dust as it hit the floor. The light in its eyes was extinguished, devoured whole.

Han Lie released the hilt, letting the saber float in the air before him. The weapon was trembling, not with instability, but with ecstasy. A blinding red radiance flooded the hall, thick with the metallic scent of blood and an ancient, icy killing intent.

Han Lie watched, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. Through his soul imprint, he felt the weapon’s structure shifting, tempering itself in the ocean of fresh blood energy. It was forging itself anew.

The process lasted nearly an hour. When the red light finally receded, the Crimson Oath dropped back into Han Lie’s waiting grip.

The blade was no longer just red; it was the color of old, dried blood, dark and terrifyingly deep. Near the hilt, a new rune had formed—a crimson crescent moon, subtle yet radiating a sharpness that seemed to cut the eye just by looking at it.

“Finally,” Han Lie whispered, running a thumb along the flat of the blade. “Heaven-rank, Middle-grade.”

He didn’t need to test it to know. The Soul Devouring Saber Art executed with this vessel would be a nightmare for anyone standing in his way.

Elsewhere in the ruins.

Bai Ling stumbled out of a bronze gateway, her chest heaving. She had passed her trial, but the cost had been high. Her robes were torn, and her spiritual energy was dangerously low.

She scanned her surroundings. She stood at the edge of a primordial forest, where trees towered hundreds of meters into the sky, their canopies blotting out the strange, artificial light of the ruins. The air here was thick with Qi—richer, sweeter, and far more potent than the outside world.

A paradise for cultivation, for some.

Bai Ling ignored it. To a cultivator with resources, atmospheric Qi was inefficient compared to the purity of Spirit Stones. She didn’t have time to sit and meditate. She was a lone Golden Core Late-stage cultivator in a den of wolves. Without Han Lie, she was nothing more than fish on a chopping block.

“I need to find him,” she whispered to herself.

She moved, her feet light against the mossy earth, ghosting through the underbrush. She expanded her sensory perception to its limit, desperate for a familiar signature.

Suddenly, her heart skipped a beat.

A powerful aura flared on the edge of her senses. Golden Core Perfection. Strong. Domineering.

For a split second, hope flared—Han Lie?

Then the aura turned cold, sharp, and unmistakably familiar in the worst way possible.

It wasn’t Han Lie. It was Zhao Batian.

Bai Ling’s face drained of color. She didn’t hesitate. She pivoted, channeling the last of her reserves into her movement technique, diving deeper into the dense foliage.

She ran until her lungs burned, weaving through the massive roots, praying she had lost him. She dared a glance backward, seeing nothing but shadows.

“Bai Ling, little sister,” a voice crooned, smooth and mocking. “Why such a hurry? Is there a beast chasing you?”

Bai Ling froze. The voice hadn’t come from behind.

It came from ahead.

She skid to a halt, looking up. Leaning casually against a tree trunk, blocking her path, was Zhao Batian. He looked immaculate, his robes unruffled, a cruel smile dancing on his lips.

“Zhao Batian…” Bai Ling stepped back, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword until her knuckles turned white.

Her eyes began to shift, a faint crimson glow bleeding into her irises. She was already circulating the Ten Thousand Blood Pagoda Art. Against a monster like him, hesitation was death.

“What do you want?” she demanded, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts.

“Want?” Zhao Batian chuckled, pushing himself off the tree. “Master sent you to the Heavenly Void Sect to steal the Yin Yang Demonic Art. Instead, you crawled into Han Lie’s bed and betrayed the Sun Moon Sect. I’m just here to take out the trash.”

“Betrayed?” Bai Ling’s fear gave way to a sudden, hysterical anger. “You dare talk to me about betrayal?”

She pointed her sword at him, her voice rising to a scream. “You treated me like a puppet! You held my parents, my entire family hostage just to make me your spy! You think I owe the sect loyalty? I owe you nothing!”

Tears of rage pricked her eyes. “You sit high on your pedestal, enjoying all the resources, while I was sent to do the dirty work. What right do you have to judge me?”

Zhao Batian’s expression didn’t change. He watched her outburst with the same indifference one might show a barking dog.

“Little sister,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t say you were wrong to feel that way. I said the punishment for betrayal is death. That is the rule.”

He took a step forward. The air around him began to crackle. Blue arcs of lightning danced across his shoulders, the smell of ozone overpowering the scent of the forest.

“Are you ready to die?”

“I won’t die here!” Bai Ling shrieked.

She bit her tongue, spitting a mouthful of blood onto her blade. The Ten Thousand Blood Pagoda Art roared to life, shrouding her in a crimson mist. She didn’t wait for him to attack; she lunged, a desperate, suicidal strike aimed at his throat.

“Pathetic,” Zhao Batian sneered. “Like an egg striking a stone.”

He stomped his foot.

Bang!

The ground shattered. Zhao Batian vanished, replaced by a streak of blinding blue light. He moved with the speed of a thunderclap, tearing through Bai Ling’s defense before she could even blink.

Crackle!

The sound of thunder exploded in her ears. He was there, right in front of her, looming like a lightning god of old.

He didn’t even draw a weapon. He simply backhanded her.

Pfft—!

Bai Ling felt her ribs crack. Blood sprayed from her lips as she was launched backward, her body ragdolling through the air like a kite with a cut string.

She slammed into the earth, rolling violently before coming to a stop against the roots of a massive tree.

Vision blurring, she tried to push herself up. She couldn’t breathe. Every inch of her body screamed in agony.

“Running away again?” Zhao Batian’s voice drifted over, amused.

Bai Ling gritted her teeth, forcing her broken body to move. She slapped the ground, detonating a pocket of blood energy that kicked up a cloud of dust and debris. Using the momentary cover, she scrambled into the thicket, dragging her feet.

“You can’t escape, Bai Ling,” Zhao Batian called out, his leisurely footsteps crunching on the forest floor behind her. “This is the end.”

Bai Ling didn’t answer. She just kept moving, tears mixing with the blood on her face, fueled by nothing but sheer, stubborn terror. She had to find Han Lie. He was the only one who could save her now.