Zhang Fan watched the two of them fall into dire straits and immediately charged forward as well. The burly man caught sight of this, turned his head slightly, and another streak of red light shot out, surging straight toward Zhang Fan.
Zhang Fan had no way to retreat. Though he had taken note of the appearances of both Qi Hao and Zeng Shushu, now that the moment was upon him he was utterly out of options—he could only steel himself, summon his fire-stoking staff, and charge forward to meet them.
Midair, the red radiance collided with the fire-stoking staff that emanated a faint, mysterious azure glow, and in an instant both dissipated. Zhang Fan felt only a tremendous force surge through the air, his body shuddering once, with no other unusual sensation whatsoever. He quickly turned his gaze to the fire-stoking staff, yet found its pitch-black surface exactly as before—not a single red mark to be seen.
Though the fire-stoking staff remained as ugly as ever, Zhang Fan was overjoyed and hurried forward a step. But the members of the Demonic Sect in the distance were all startled, turning to look over one after another — and the burly man let out a cry as another beam of crimson radiance shot forth from his enormous eyes.
The fire poker surged forward to meet it. Two beams of light—blue and red—collided in midair. A moment later, the red light scattered. The fire poker shuddered once, but remained wholly unscathed. Zhang Fan breathed a sigh of relief. Ugly as his fire poker was, he thought, there was truth in the old saying: *the lowly live tough*. It seemed this Artifact was much the same. His two senior brothers' immortal swords were elegant and noble, yet neither proved as sturdy as his own wretched piece of junk.
Such chaotic thoughts flickered through his mind, yet his feet never stopped—he pressed forward, step by slow step, closing in on the big man. By now the big man's easy composure had vanished entirely; the bulk of his attention had shifted to Zhang Fan, who appeared to be the weakest of the three. He let Qi Hao and Zeng Shu's red radiance keep the others at bay, while at Zhang Fan he loosed shot after shot in a relentless *whoosh-whoosh-whoosh*, never letting up.
With each flash of red radiance, it was plain to see that Zhang Fan was straining under the effort — yet the pitch-black staff refused to yield, and the murderous energy carried by those red beams seemed to have no effect on the young man either. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Zhang Fan pressed forward, one step at a time.
In the blink of an eye, a faint sheen of sweat had already appeared on the big man's forehead. No matter how hard he tried, he simply could not work it out — his "Crimson Demon Eye," forged through three hundred years of painstaking Cultivation, had proven devastatingly effective against even the most prized immortal Artifacts, so why was it utterly powerless before what appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary fire-stoking stick?
Little did he know the full truth of the matter. The Red Demon Eye was formidable, certainly—its ferocious, blood-soaked baleful energy striking against the immortal swords of Qi Hao and the others could indeed defile their immortal qi, then use the sword bodies as conduit to slowly drive that malevolent force into their flesh. From the very first exchange, it had left them with no path to victory. Yet Zhang Fan's seemingly crude fire-poker of a rod was something else entirely. It had been forged from two sources: the "Blood-Devouring Pearl," once the most sinister relic of the Demonic Sect, and a mysterious black rod of unknown origin found deep in the secluded valley behind Da Zhu Peak's rear mountain—fused together with Zhang Fan's own blood essence as the binding medium. If one were to speak of baleful energy alone, the Blood-Devouring Pearl already surpassed the Red Demon Eye by an incalculable margin. And that was before accounting for the nameless black rod, whose ferocity matched the Pearl's blow for blow.
The two greatly malevolent objects had fused into one, each restraining the other, so that their sinister energy was instead contained inward. With Zhang Fan's essence blood imbued within, only Zhang Fan could activate them—and it was precisely for this reason that he managed to conceal the truth from the senior elders of Qingyu Sect, and Zhang Fan was thus able to turn back from the very threshold of death.
But at this very moment, as the burly man attempted to unleash a crimson flash from his Red Demon Eye to strike the fire-stoking staff, his effort came to nothing. This was only because Zhang Fan was young and ignorant, carrying a priceless treasure without knowing its worth. Had it instead been the Demon Sect's patriarch of a thousand years past—the Black-Heart Elder—with nothing more than a single Blood-Devouring Bead and a few swings, he could have sucked that burly man dry of blood and flesh, leaving behind nothing but a shriveled husk with a lone Red Demon Eye spinning lazily atop the corpse.
None of those present could have imagined such an outlandish turn of events. The burly man was pouring his full concentration into facing his opponent, yet he still could not stop Zhang Fan from slowly closing in, step by step. At that moment, the sinister-faced youth who had stood silently to one side since the very beginning suddenly let out a cold laugh: "Brother Nian, that Red Demon Eye of yours is all show and no use — you can't even handle a few Qingyu disciples. To think you were just lecturing Wild Dog so harshly moments ago. The way I see it, you might as well hand your position as Sect Leader over to me."
The burly man and the young woman beside him both changed expression at once. The beautiful young woman frowned first and said, "Fellow Daoist Lin Feng, we are facing a powerful enemy at this very moment — how can you still speak such words?"
Lin Feng, his face twisted with malice, cast a sweeping sidelong glance at the crowd from the Qingyun Sect. When his gaze fell on Lu Xueqi, he deliberately lingered a moment longer, then sneered: "Do these yellow-haired brats count as formidable enemies? Then what gives our Blood Refining Hall the right to stand among the immortal sects — let alone speak of restoring the grand enterprise our predecessor, the Elder Black Heart, built a thousand years ago?"
The burly man surnamed Nian unleashed a streak of red light toward Zhang Fan, temporarily halting his advance, then turned to Lin Feng in fury: "What can you do besides run your mouth? Why don't you come up here and try it yourself?"
A strange smile crept across Lin Feng's pale face. "I'll make you concede wholeheartedly."
He reached into the folds of his robe and drew out a gilded fan, raising it to fan himself with unhurried ease.
Everyone from Qingyun Sect had heard their exchange, and they all grew more wary of this young man whose entire bearing radiated a sinister aura. Yet after a while, they saw that he merely fanned himself at an unhurried pace, his manner utterly composed — he had not so much as stirred from where he stood. They were all left dumbfounded.
Could it be that this Lin Feng is truly nothing more than all talk?
That year, the eldest senior was instead driven half-mad with rage by him, and thundered: "Lin Feng, if you have no ability, stand to one side! I can handle these Qingyun disciples on my own — I don't need you standing there with your cold remarks. Why don't you take a good look at what you yourself are capable of?"
Lin Feng's expression darkened. He let out a cold snort. "I had no intention of joining forces with you — winning that way would be no honorable victory. But if I don't show you a thing or two right now, you'll think I've been lying to you all along?"
Mid-sentence, he gave a casual flick of his wrist and sent the gold-traced fan spinning into the air. The fan shimmered with a faint golden radiance, then snapped open with a crisp swish.
Upon the gold-traced fan face, rendered in the meticulous gongbi style, were painted a mountain, a river, and a great roc—the brushwork fine and delicate, each figure vivid and lifelike.
The wind rises, clouds surge, thunder rumbles, lightning flashes.
This place lay deep beneath the earth, within an ancient cavern—a realm where no such vision should ever have appeared. Yet at this very moment, all four disciples of Qingyun Sect found the scene playing out before their eyes and ringing in their ears alike. They were still reeling in shock when a tremendous crack split the air. The precious fan trembled violently in midair, and an instant later the great mountain painted within its surface tore free of the picture entirely. Fed by the wind, it swelled with thunderous roars until it stood a hundred zhang tall, very nearly filling the vast chamber to bursting—then came crashing down upon the four Qingyun Sect disciples like Mount Tai itself descending from the heavens.
Zhang Fan went pale with shock. Seeing the massive object bearing down on him from above, he knew he was powerless to resist it. Without sparing another thought, he kicked off with all his strength and flew backward — but even as the great mountain came crashing down, half his body was still beneath it, on the verge of being crushed in two. Then, all at once, someone seized him by the back of his collar and hauled him clear by brute force.
Zhang Fan turned to look — it was Qi Hao who had saved his life. At this life-and-death moment, an inexplicable bitterness welled up unbidden in his heart, yet he still murmured softly, "Thank you, Senior Brother Qi."
Qi Hao had no idea what was going through the fellow's mind. His expression remained grave as he gave only a slight nod. He had been standing a little further back just now, so he had retreated more quickly; noticing that Zhang Fan happened to be right beside him, he reached out and pulled him along.
Yet the massive hill that had erupted out of nowhere before them was an utter nightmare. It came thundering down with crushing force—instantly the ground convulsed, the stone walls shook, and even the rocky vault overhead, more than a hundred zhang high, shed a rain of shattered debris. The sheer might of it was enough to chill the soul.
Zeng Shushu also fell back, her face alight with astonishment. "The Mountains and Rivers Fan!" she cried. "That is the guardian Artifact of Jie Shi Mountain's Wind-Moon Patriarch — how could it have ended up in this person's hands?"
Everyone was taken aback. Zhang Fan aside, Qi Hao was a man of wide experience, and he knew that Patriarch Fengyue was a renowned cultivator who kept to himself in secluded cultivation atop Eastern Jieshi Mountain—a figure of profound Dao attainment and considerable standing along the cultivation path. In his conduct he walked the line between righteous and demonic, committing no great evil and keeping apart from worldly strife, so neither the righteous sects nor the demonic factions had ever seen fit to provoke him. What none of them had expected was that this young man would appear among these fiendish cultivators while carrying Patriarch Fengyue's very own signature Artifact.
Just as everyone stood in stunned uncertainty, the great mountain showed no mercy and rose into the air once more. None could fathom what manner of power it would take to move such a colossal mass.
With the stone wall at their backs and no room to retreat, rocks rained down from the massive hill like a torrent while lightning split the sky. At this life-and-death moment, as the Qingyun Sect disciples looked on in frantic desperation, Qi Hao gritted his teeth and was about to step forward to shield the others — resolved to withstand the mountain's crushing, unstoppable force with his own body. Then a blue blur flashed. Lu Xueqi appeared suddenly before the three of them. A clear, piercing cry rang from her lips. Blue light erupted and blazed as the divine sword Ya sang from its scabbard like a dragon's roar, and ten thousand streams of immortal energy shot straight toward the vault of the heavens.
The thunder overhead grew ever more furious. The great mountain descended with invincible might, bearing down upon all four of them—on the verge of crushing them to pulp. Xueqi's face was pale as frost, her long hair billowing and dancing in the howling wind, as though she were one of the Nine Immortal Maidens. The blade of *Ya* trembled faintly, as if sensing its master's intent. Like an enraged dragon springing skyward, it surged upward; ten thousand beams of blue light instantly blazed through the entire vast cavern, converging into one in midair—and in a single stroke, the sword cleaved toward that great mountain.
*Clang!*
Sand and stones flew in all directions as the howling gale raged; everyone gazed up into the sky, where a massive shockwave—nearly tangible in its force—surged outward with savage violence. Lu Xueqi hung suspended in midair; the color drained instantly from her face, and the tremendous recoil sent her entire body slamming straight into the stone wall.
But the great mountain was cleaved by a mighty strike of the blue pillar of light, its crushing descent halting instantly. It trembled several times in midair, and where the thunderous boom rang out, it shrank back—within moments, amid swirling sand and tumbling stones, the entire mountain vanished into nothing, reappearing once more within the Mountain-River Fan.
The villainous-faced youth Lin Feng cast a glance at the Mountain-River Fan, his brow furrowing at once. There on the painted surface, a mountain that had once stood in magnificent grandeur now bore a great crack running from its very peak down to its midpoint — as though the rock had been wrenched apart. The fan's formerly harmonious composition was ruined, like a face whose features had been disfigured, the whole scene rendered somewhat stiff and jarring to the eye.
At Qingyun Sect, the Yasheng Sword flew back as though possessed of its own will. Lu Xueqi slid down from the stone wall, and the moment her feet touched the ground her legs buckled beneath her—she nearly crumpled to the earth entirely. Fortunately, the others had already rushed to her side, and Zhang Fan, seeing it happen, reached out and caught her before she could fall.
6 Xueqi gasped for breath in great heaves, but pride stiffened her spine and she moved to push Zhang Fan away. Her hand was only halfway extended when she felt a sudden warmth at the corner of her lips — a trickle of fresh blood had seeped out.
Crimson blood traced its way down her skin, pale and smooth as congealed cream — red against white, a contrast so stark it formed a beauty that was breathtaking, even devastating.
Zhang Fan was stunned for a moment, then heard Lin Feng in the distance pointing an accusatory finger and raging: "You wretched woman—how dare you destroy my Artifact! Dying ten times over wouldn't be enough to repay this debt!" Even as the words left his mouth, the man wreathed in sinister energy had already launched himself into the air. The Mountain River Fan blazed with golden light, wholly at odds with the dark aura that clung to him, yet it snapped open and shut in the sky as it came hurtling toward them.
In the distance, Nian Laoda had already ceased radiating red light, and that "Crimson Demon Eye" had returned to normal as he stood where he was. The beautiful young woman beside him stepped forward and glanced at Xueqi of Qingyun Sect, saying in a low voice, "Did you see it clearly?"
Elder Nian's expression turned grave!
That young woman let out a cold snort. "To think that such a divine artifact would end up in *these* people's hands!"
Elder Nian watched Lin Feng, who was now locked in fierce combat with the members of Qingyun Sect, and said: "The Ya Divine Sword is one of the Nine Divine Weapons. In the past, the founder of our Blood Refinement Hall, the Old Black Heart, was defeated by this very sword. Today, no matter what, we must seize this divine sword!"
The beautiful young matron nodded. Lin Feng—
Elder Nian gave a cold sneer. "This fellow, relying on some distant kinship with Patriarch Fengyue, has always had his eyes set above everyone else. Were it not for the fact that we are short of capable hands right now, I would have driven him out long ago. Let him lead the vanguard for the time being—you and I shall watch for the right moment, then make our move and seize the divine sword."
The young woman gave a nod and fixed her gaze intently on the arena.
Each sweep of the "Mountain-River Fan" unleashed a mighty tempest, sending gale-driven stones hurtling toward the four disciples of Qingyun Sect — yet every time the debris drew close, Qi Hao and Zeng Shushu deflected it all. Moments ago, when that great mountain had erupted without warning, the group had been caught completely off guard, nearly powerless; but now, in this moment, the extraordinary depth of these two cultivators' Dao shone clear for all to see.
Qi Hao needed no words — his Ice Immortal Sword flashed with white light, deflecting wave after wave of raging wind. Meanwhile, Zeng Shushu, standing on the other side, finally revealed his true capabilities. The "Xuanyuan" Immortal Sword, radiating a faint violet gleam, flickered under Qi Hao's cover and drove through the gaps in the tempest again and again, striking like a venomous serpent. Lin Feng, if he let his guard slip for even a moment, would nearly have been caught by that violet gleam, and could only stay sharply vigilant to hold his own. For a time, the three were evenly matched, with no way to determine who had the upper hand.
Zhang Fan stood at the rear, still supporting Lu Xueqi, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the match between Qi Hao and the others. He watched as Qi Hao moved with effortless ease, wielding his immortal sword with consummate mastery, his command of Daoist immortal arts so far beyond Zhang Fan's own that despite himself, Zhang Fan felt a measure of genuine admiration. All this time, he had done nothing more than practice the foundational techniques of the Taiji Xuanqing Dao; it was only just before he descended the mountain that Su Ru had hastily crammed a handful of practical techniques into him — so of course he could not hold a candle to Qi Hao.
Just as he was absorbed in watching, he suddenly felt the weight on his arm ease — Xueqi had rested for a moment, her strength somewhat restored, and had risen to her feet on her own, stepping away from his support.
Zhang Fan looked at her face—once as smooth and lustrous as jade, now drained to a deathly pallor—and couldn't help asking, "Are you alright, Sixth Senior Sister?"
Xueqi glanced at him, reached up to wipe the blood from the corner of her lips, and shook her head, but said nothing.
Having come to know this frosty beauty, Zhang Fan had long since grown accustomed to her ways and naturally chose not to press the matter further. Besides, he had always held a certain reverence for this lovely woman, and so he turned his gaze back toward the arena.
But no sooner had he turned his head than he suddenly heard Lu Xueqi let out a cry of alarm. He spun around in shock to see a black rope burst forth from the stone wall directly behind where the two of them stood, swiftly binding Lu Xueqi's hands to her sides and leaving her utterly unable to move. A moment later, a feminine silhouette emerged from that very same stone wall—none other than the beautiful young woman who had been standing at a distance just moments before.
Her giggles rang out as she said, "Little sister, you are so achingly beautiful — truly enough to make even me feel tender pity. This Immortal-Binding Rope was prepared by your elder sister especially for the likes of you righteous immortals!"
Zhang Fan saw the pain spreading across Lu Xueqi's face, and looked again to find the "Immortal-Binding Rope" had already cut deep into her flesh within moments—the agony it must have caused was plain to imagine. But before he could even react, a sharp whistle split the air above, and the eldest senior brother came plunging straight down, hand outstretched, snatching toward the divine sword "Ye" at Lu Xueqi's back.
How could Zhang Fan allow him to run amok? The "Fire-Stoking Rod" shot into the air and lunged straight at Nian the Elder. The moment Nian the Elder caught sight of that supremely bizarre black short staff once more, he could not help but feel a flicker of apprehension in his heart. He twisted his body to one side, forcing himself to a dead stop in mid-air, and dropped down to the ground.
Ahead, Qi Hao and Zeng Shushu heard the noise, turned to look, and went pale with shock. They were just about to wheel around and go back to help, but Lin Feng caught the movement and thought to himself: if I let you come and go as you please, won't I lose all face in front of Brother Nian? He immediately sent his Mountain River Fan howling into a gale, each blast fiercer than the last, and for the moment the two of them could not break free.
Zhang Fan had barely driven back the old boss when, without a moment's hesitation, he sidestepped and thrust the fire-stoking rod straight at the beautiful young woman. Unexpectedly, she let out a soft laugh and gave the rope in her hand a casual flick—Lu Xueqi's entire body was pulled sideways against her will, interposed squarely between them.
Zhang Fan was utterly startled, nearly unable to arrest his momentum. He wrenched to a sudden halt—the fire-stoking staff stopped a scant three inches from Lu Xueqi, so close that its glow cast her jade-smooth face in a ghostly, ashen pallor.
Before Zhang Fan could even catch his breath, two more gusts of wind surged up from behind. In his desperation, he threw himself forward in a frantic lunge, barely managing to dodge in a sorry scramble. Glancing back, he saw that the Wild Dog Daoist and that tall Liu Gao had seized the moment to pile on as well—and the Old Boss, his greed for the treasure burning too hot to be checked, had thrown all dignity aside and come charging in just the same.
Zhang Fan faced three opponents alone and was immediately plunged into a desperate struggle. Had it not been for the eldest's wariness of the fire poker, and for Wild Dog and Liu Hao having just witnessed its terrifying blood-drinking display in the darkness—fear taking root in their hearts, making them hold back their blows—Zhang Fan would have long since been defeated.
Even so, within just a few exchanges Zhang Fan found himself in desperate straits, battered from all sides by three Artifacts slashing through the air above him. Yet what troubled him most was something else entirely: the beautiful young woman standing off to one side appeared to be doing nothing but watching—yet the instant Zhang Fan made any move to retaliate, she would snap her arm and hurl Qi into the fray, forcing him to pull back and swallow his counterattack every single time. In the space of a breath he had suffered setback after setback, and it looked as though he was moments away from taking a wound at the hands of the three demon cultivators.
Bound by the Immortal-Binding Rope, Lu Xueqi struggled with all her might, yet it was utterly useless. Watching the smug smile spread across the young woman's face behind her, and seeing Zhang Fan in the arena growing more and more desperate for fear of hurting her, Lu Xueqi's face turned even paler. Her heart churned with turbulence; a sweetness surged at her throat, and a mouthful of fresh blood came spilling out, scattering across her robes in vivid crimson drops—a sight that shook the soul.
Zhang Fan heard the sound and looked over — believing that Xueqi had been wounded by the "Immortal-Binding Rope," he was seized by shock and could no longer hold back. The fire staff suddenly surged with black qi and, swift as lightning, shot straight toward the beautiful young woman.
The young woman had not expected Zhang Fan to suddenly make a move, heedless of his own safety. Caught off guard for a moment, she watched the fire poker come rushing straight at her face. She hastily leapt aside, and only just barely managed to dodge it.
But at the same moment, Zhang Fan's back was left completely exposed — the aged Elder Red Demon Eye shot forth a streak of crimson light, while Daoist Wild Dog's fang Artifact and Liu Hao's yellow flying sword struck Zhang Fan's back in unison.
Zhang Fan's vision went black; he nearly lost consciousness. The wave of excruciating pain that had swept through every inch of his body gave way to a spreading numbness, and his entire frame was sent flying straight forward. In midair, blood erupted from his mouth like a gushing spring.
Xueqi watched it all, biting deep into her lip with her pearly teeth, when she suddenly felt the Immortal-Binding Rope around her body slacken ever so slightly — the beautiful young woman had been distracted by Zhang Fan and momentarily forgotten to keep her grip on the rope.
Xueqi let out a clear cry and rapidly bent and extended her hands within the confined space, forming orchid-finger seals. The divine sword "Ya" burst from its scabbard on its own, a streak of blue light sweeping past—two sharp *crack crack* sounds rang out as it forced the Immortal-Binding Rope back by a full circle. Yet beneath the "Ya's" divine edge, what appeared to be an ordinary Immortal-Binding Rope proved extraordinarily tenacious; though it could not be cut, it hissed and sizzled under each stroke.
The young woman, her heart aching for her precious artifact and her mind reeling at the divine might of the Ya Spirit, hastily withdrew the Immortal-Binding Rope. The moment Xueqi was freed, though her body still throbbed with pain, she immediately shot into the air and caught Zhang Fan as he came hurtling toward her.
Just as the two of them had no chance to catch their breath, Nian Lao Da and his two companions had already tracked them down.
The blue light of Yalan flickered and flew back to stand before Xue Qi, shielding its master. Qi's face had gone as pale as paper, her own body swaying unsteadily.
At that very moment, a sound rang out from the distance — followed by a cry of pain. Lin Feng flew into a rage and bellowed: "You Qingyu disciples — how dare you wound me! Behold my Artifact!"
*BOOM!* — the sound reverberated through every corner of the vast cavern!
Just as the crowd stood frozen in shock, the eldest senior abruptly checked his momentum and cried out, "Brother Lin, stop!"
Before he could finish speaking, everyone felt the ground shudder and heave beneath their feet. They looked again at Lin Feng's hand — the great river depicted within the Mountains and Rivers Fan had vanished entirely from the painting.
With a deafening boom, the flat ground beneath everyone's feet cracked open, and in an instant, massive columns of water erupted from deep below. The force was so tremendous that even enormous boulders were blasted into the air — yet the great stone ahead, carved with the three characters "Necrotic Abyss," did not stir in the slightest.
The four members of Qingyun Sect were sent flying in all directions by a tremendous force. In that instant, Xueqi's grip slipped loose — and she suddenly felt as though her own heart had sunk along with it.
Zhang Fan's bloodstained body drifted weightlessly outward — ahead lay that mysterious, dark abyss!
She gazed deep into the emptiness from mid-air — just a single instant, yet it felt as though memories of former days, scene after scene, came sweeping through her heart.
On Tong Peak of Qingyun Mountain, the young man whose gaze had made her blush during the lot-drawing;
During that contest, amidst lightning and howling winds, a gaze that suddenly softened;
The one who had just coughed up blood for her sake, who threw caution to the wind and came rushing over to save her!
A massive boulder came crashing down overhead. Xue Qi gritted her teeth, her face set like ice, and with the very last of her strength she thrust a hand against the boulder to push off from it, changing the direction of her body as she flew toward Zhang Fan.
Stones fell like rain and the water dragon snarled with savage fury — yet all of it seemed to recede into the background. The divine sword "Ya" shed a faint blue luminescence as it followed its master away.
Dodging past several scattered rocks, Xueqi caught up to Zhang Fan and seized his hand, just about to pull him back — only to feel that the last trace of strength within her body had slipped away from her as well.
"Is she here to save me?" Through his steadily dimming vision, Zhang Fan caught sight of Lu Xueqi and silently mouthed the thought. Then, in an instant, he realized that both he and Lu Xueqi had already flown past the massive boulder blazing with intense radiance—the one carved with the three great characters "Netherworld Abyss"—and now hung suspended above that yawning chasm below.
Then, they fell downward.
6Xueqi seemed to lose consciousness. She closed her eyes, her body rolling to one side, and her fair complexion, as one looked upon it at that moment, seemed unexpectedly to carry a faint trace of relief.
In the final moment Zhang Fan still lingered in the light—before he plummeted into the bottomless abyss yawning beneath him, that darkness which seemed eternal—he faintly caught the sound of a Buddhist invocation, and with it, a golden radiance blazed to life.
The next moment, he was plunged into darkness.
Boundless darkness stretched in every direction, as if eternal—even the woman standing right beside him, close enough to touch, he could not make out so much as a trace of her.
Yet in that final moment before consciousness left him, he still knew — Xue Qi's hand and his own remained clasped together, tightly, so very tightly.
He even vaguely sensed it — how that hand, at that very moment, was so icy, so cold.
Boundless darkness swallowed everything.
*Jade Dynasty* — Book One Complete.