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Chapter 133: SOUL AND SWORD
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 03:05:52 +0000 UTCCHAPTER
133
SOUL AND SWORD
JIEYUAN
—∞—
The voice was deep. Resonant. And loud—so loud it should’ve left his ears ringing, his eardrums bleeding, his bones rattling.
But none of that happened. Because the words hadn’t been spoken, at least not in the conventional way—nor in any other Jieyuan knew of, and he had more experience with alternative means of communication than most.
It was nothing like a mind-linked thought, or even Huaxin’s compressed flashes of sensations and impressions. Both of those skipped the body and worked straight on the mind.
This voice skipped body and mind.
It went further than that. Deeper. He felt the voice in his soul—and even now its echo lingered there like a fading hum. And the words weren’t just words. There was something else, infusing them. A low, thrumming sense of expectation.
Jieyuan didn’t feel the emotion like he’d feel his own—there was a distance to it—but he could still sense it, feel their weight. That, at least, was more familiar ground to Jieyuan. He had to deal with something similar whenever he talked with Huaxin.
There was more still. It was a woman’s voice. And while there was a faint feminine lilt to it, that wasn’t how he could tell. Like with way too many things lately, Jieyuan just knew the voice belonged to a woman. It was like the knowledge was being directly fed into his head, skipping all the pesky steps—perceiving, processing, understanding—that usually went before knowing.
Something else that he also just knew was where it’d come from.
Jieyuan stared—though it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter—at the mist-wreathed beast.
Chromal beasts weren’t supposed to be capable of speech. Some were smarter than their mundane counterparts, sure, but he’d never heard of one that was actually intelligent. Granted, he only really knew about Redsoul beasts—and Orangesoul ones, which didn’t seem to be all that different besides the obvious gap in power.
Of beasts at higher realms than that, he knew nothing. Which was what he was dealing with. The beast in front of them was Violetsoul—at least. Violetsoul was supposed to be the end, the last realm of cultivation; all of a sudden, though, he wasn’t so sure about that anymore.
The thick viridian mist around the beast writhed and rolled like storm clouds, its glow bleeding into the surrounding air and across the stone floor in a halo of green light.
The beast itself, on the other hand, just loomed there and didn’t seem to be moving at all —though that was assuming the beast was only wrapped in viridian mist, and not made of it. Jieyuan had no way of telling which it was, even if he was leaning toward the former.
And then there were the words themselves. He turned them over in his head. Three of them. It was the first one that mattered most.
Daughter.
There was only really one thing here that could be referring to.
And if Jieyuan had any doubts about it, what happened next dispelled them completely.
COME.
The command landed like a thunderclap even though no sound broke the air. And with it came a pressure—insistent, bodily—urging him to step forward, to advance, to obey. He resisted, refused to move. But the real reason he managed to stay put was that he was incapable of moving.
And as that one word tore through his soul, Meiyao stepped forward.
Her step put her just at the edge of his fixed field of vision. Another couple of slow, drawn-out steps, the rings of metal on rock echoing throughout the cavern as her greaves struck the floor, and she came fully into view.
Jieyuan caught a glimpse of her face. And he felt a hollow in his stomach. His fears were confirmed.
A slack, blank expression. Distant, unfocused eyes.
No. Rot. NO!
There and then, just for a heartbeat, Jieyuan felt like strangling someone. Anyone would do, really—though preferably himself or Meiyao."
He redoubled his earlier efforts at moving. Reaching deep inside himself, he gathered everything he had—aura, strength, energy, willpower—and hurled it all into his legs.
Move. Move. MOVE!
Muscles flexed. Tendons tightened. Nerves fired.
He felt it all. Felt the sheer power pumping into his legs.
He didn’t have a plan in mind. Didn’t know what he’d do if he moved. He just needed to do something.
It didn’t matter. Absolutely nothing happened. He didn’t so much as twitch.
Meiyao was already halfway to the beast. And as if Jieyuan wasn’t already alarmed enough, he noticed something else. The mist around her was thickening. Gathering around her, latching onto her frame. The closer she drew to the beast, the denser it got. He could already see the clear outline of it, wrapped around Meiyao’s body.
And just like with the beast, the layer of mist building up around Meiyao was restless, like it had a life of its own. Pulsing to the same beat as that of the beast.
On Meiyao’s shoulders, Xiaohu lay curled tight around her neck. Unmoving. The viridian prowler didn’t seem to so much as twitch as Meiyao walked. It should be locked up like him and Daojue.
The worst of all was not knowing. For all the things he somehow just knew, the things that actually mattered right now were very much a mystery. What was this beast? What did it want with them—with Meiyao? What was even happening right now?
Or… Or maybe that’s a good thing, Jieyuan forced himself to think. After all, with the beast’s intentions unknown, all the cards were still on the table. Just about anything could happen. And uncertainty and possibility were two sides of the same coin.
That rang rather hollow to him, though. No matter which way this would go, that didn’t change the fact that he and Daojue were still frozen in place, Meiyao was in a trance, and they were all completely and utterly at the mercy of a creature that, from the looks of things, had a Violetsoul beast serving as its errand boy.
Meiyao stopped in the center of the cavern. The layer of mist around her was so dense now that he could only trace the suggestion of her through it.
The beast loomed over her. The top of Meiyao’s head barely reached the rise of its chest, and all the glowing mist on Meiyao didn’t hold a candle to the writhing, twisting mass cloaking the beast.
Then it moved.
While Meiyao stood there like she was rooted in place, the beast paced around her, slow and deliberate. Circling her. There was no sound—its clawed feet seemingly gliding across the stone. The long, narrow head dipped, the green orbs pinned on Meiyao unblinkingly.
YES, it said, and the word thrummed with satisfaction, a triumphant warmth sweeping through Jieyuan’s soul. YES. YOUR BLOOD SINGS TRUE. YOU ARE WORTHY.
The beast did three full turns around Meiyao before it came to rest in front of her again.
TALK, DAUGHTER. I WOULD HEAR FROM YOU.
The mist around Meiyao rolled off in a single breath, like a cloak shaken loose. Her body went rigid, and then she gave a jerk, taking an abrupt step back. Her head whipped left, right, like a person searching for the thing that hit them.
Jieyuan’s heart soared at the sight of it. This was promising. Really, really promising.
Though Xiaohu, he noticed, didn’t seem to have been freed up like her master. The viridian prowler remained stone-still on Meiyao’s neck.
“You—” Meiyao started, her voice high, tight with tension. She looked straight up at the beast towering over her, then shot a glance backward. Her gaze landed on him, and her already wide eyes went even wider. “Jieyuan—”
CHILD.
The voice still hit that same deep place—shaking his soul—but it was also softer now, almost motherly. There was a chiding quality to it. A faint fondness.
I WOULD HAVE YOUR ATTENTION ON ME.
Meiyao turned back. Even from across the cavern, Jieyuan heard the deep breath she took. “What’s— Who are you?”
That, Jieyuan decided, is not promising.
He’d hoped Meiyao might have a better grasp on the situation, what with how this was clearly connected to her and how much she’d known about Viridian Death City. But no luck there, it seemed.
YOU KNOW NOT? YOU ARE LINZUSHEN. HAVE YOUR ELDERS TAUGHT YOU NAUGHT?
“I— I am the last of my clan,” Meiyao said, stumbling over her words. Jieyuan had never heard her sound so off-balance. Flustered. Unsure. “My mother—”
NO.
“What?”
YOU ARE NOT THE LAST OF MY HUMAN LINE. THAT IS ABSURD.
The words struck the same deep place in him, and with them came a wobble of confusion—off-balance, momentary—followed by a denser, colder weight: incredulity. A cool, steady refusal to even consider that claim.
The beast then lowered its head again, long neck folding forward. Meiyao seemed to be frozen in place again —Jieyuan wouldn’t be surprised if she’d actually been—as it touched brow to brow with her. The mist around the beast gave a sudden, bright pulse.
The contact lasted maybe a heartbeat before the beast lifted its head again, the glow of its mist dimming back down. Meiyao regained her ability to move—she staggered back a step, trembling hard enough she almost stumbled.
“What— That— What did you—” Her voice shook.
I SEE.
It didn’t seem to be addressing Meiyao's stuttered half-questions. The feeling that filled his soul now was that of a cool assessment, clinical and detached.
THAT IS UNFORTUNATE. YOU ARE OF A ROGUE BRANCH. YOU KNOW NOTHING OF THE TRUTH. THERE IS MUCH YOU MUST LEARN.
Meiyao didn’t answer right away. She just stood there for a moment, and then Jieyuan watched as a change came over her. Back straightening, shoulders squaring, chin settling. When she spoke again, her voice was clear, firm. She’d found her center.
“You are the Viridian.”
GOOD. YOU ARE LEARNING. YES. YOU KNOW ME AS SUCH.
The words rang with approval now, a brief warmth blooming in his chest.
Meiyao gave a single slow nod. “You said I come from a rogue branch. Does that… Does that mean there is another Linzushen Clan?”
YES.
“All right,” Meiyao said. She was trying to keep her tone even, but Jieyuan knew her well enough to hear the excitement bleeding through. “All right. I would be honored, then, to learn more about my clan. However.”
She tipped her head back toward him and Daojue, her hair swaying with the motion.
“I would appreciate it,” Meiyao said, “if you released my companions first. My bonded beast, as well.”
Jieyuan caught a flash of movement as Meiyao raised her arm and then ran her fingers through Xiaohu’s fur. The little beast didn’t stir.
A BONDED BEAST?
The Viridian angled its head. A touch of curiosity traced Jieyuan’s soul.
I SEE. A CURIOUS CHOICE. I SHALL ALLOW IT.
A visible tremor went through Xiaohu. A soft yip followed. But then the prowler did nothing else, just settled back against Meiyao’s shoulder and kept perfectly still. Though it seemed like that was more out of choice, now.
The Viridian lifted its head fully, the bright green of its gaze turning toward him and Daojue. The cave seemed to shrink around them. Jieyuan felt the pressure—the unseen force, the inexplicable feeling of raw, absolute power—on him intensify.
YOUR COMPANIONS.
It was hard to tell with how the Viridian’s eyes were just pure green orbs, but Jieyuan got the feeling it was staring straight at him.
YOU.
He could feel the weight of its regard settle on him. Feel it weighing him.
A pause followed.
FIRESOUL. BELOVED BY THE HEAVENS.
As before, the Viridian’s voice carried feeling as much as words. This time, though, Jieyuan wasn’t sure he was reading the unspoken part right. There was a quick flare of surprise—contained, controlled, but there.
Not just that. Beloved by the Heavens? That was quite the assessment. One he didn’t think he warranted. His heavenly affinity was fourth-order, which was absurdly high—but only by the standards of a Redsoul sect.
It could be that the Viridian hadn’t been referring to his heavenly affinity but to something else—but if so, Jieyuan would very much like to know what.
It was curious, too, that it hadn’t said a word about Huaxin or the darker shade of his soul. If he had to pick the two things that stood out most about him, it would be those two. Did they simply not matter to the Viridian? Or had it somehow failed to notice them?
YOU ARE ADEQUATE. I SHALL ALLOW IT.
The moment those words rang in his soul, Jieyuan stumbled forward—and realized he could move again. The Viridian’s power was still there, a formless pressure bearing down on him, but it no longer had a hold on his body.
He gathered himself the next instant, straightening, muscles tensing—only to hold still.
Because he found that now he could move again, staying put looked like his best bet at the moment, with the Viridian still facing him. The situation wasn’t looking as bad now, at any rate. The mysterious beast seemed fond of Meiyao, he and Meiyao could move again, and if the pattern held, Daojue would be freed next.
The Viridian shifted its head a fraction to the side, the weight of its attention sliding off him—and landing on Daojue.
YOU.
A black tide of hatred washed over Jieyuan. His knees gave under the force of it, and he only barely caught himself before he fell to the ground. His heart racing, alarmed to the Heavens and back, he shot a look at the Viridian, who was standing still—though Meiyao’s eyes were wide and her skin was pale.
Jieyuan turned to Daojue.
Daojue, who was slumped forward, the veins in his face bulging, eyes wide-open, face quickly reddening, looking like he was about to fold over. He was holding onto Gleaming End for support, having—in the split-second that word had struck—thrust it into the floor, the spearhead half-sunken into the stone. His whole body trembled.
So Daojue could move now—which meant the Viridian must’ve released him—but also couldn’t. The single YOU just now had almost dropped Jieyuan, and it hadn’t even been directed at him. Daojue, he imagined, would be feeling it much harder.
TIANZIJUN. SPAWN OF THE SCOURGE.
Daojue shook harder.
The Viridian had yet to move, still standing over a wide-eyed Meiyao, but its eyes were glowing even brighter—shining, even—as it stared at Daojue. The mist over its body moved even more frantically, rippling like stormy waters.
YOUR ACCURSED LINE IS A BLIGHT UPON THE PLANES.
Its voice was now laced with loathing so strong Jieyuan didn’t just sense it—he experienced it. The dark, raging storm of emotions bled out of his soul, taking over his body and mind. Hatred. Disgust. Revulsion. His skin crawled, his gut turned, and a sour taste filled his mouth. He had to stop himself from retching.
The Viridian stepped forward.
I SHALL STRIKE—
“You,” a man’s voice said from behind them, “will do nothing.”
The echoes of the Viridian’s words in his soul—and the dark storm they had stirred there—vanished. Cut short in an instant, washed away like sand on the beach by the sound of this new voice.
Jieyuan whirled toward the tunnel, where the voice had come from.
A man was standing there. Barely a few feet away, just at the mouth of the tunnel. He looked like he’d been there all along. The air was still, settled. Before he’d spoken, Jieyuan hadn’t heard any sounds coming from behind. There was nothing indicating the man’s arrival—or explaining it.
Jieyuan had barely focused on the man, taking in his figure, when—
Sword.
Jieyuan stared, uncomprehending. It was a man he was looking at. That was what his eyes were telling him, and even if on occasion Jieyuan messed with the senses of others, his own tended to be trustworthy enough.
But while his eyes told him one thing, his instincts—not quite his soulsense, but some seventh sense, maybe the same one that had caught the Viridian’s power—told him a very different story. They told him that what he was seeing wasn’t a man at all, but a—
Sword.
Sword. Sword. Sword. Sword— SwordSwordSwordSwordSword—
Enough!
Jieyuan snapped out of it, fighting back the unceasing stream of swordswordswordswordswordsword. He forced it down, pushed it away, tried to get himself to focus, to think clearly.
It was clearly—evidently—a man that was standing there. But Jieyuan couldn’t suppress his instincts entirely. Couldn’t shake off the feeling that what he was seeing was, in fact, a sword.
A sheathed sword, its razor edge hidden from sight. But unmistakably, fundamentally, a sword. And as if it weren’t bad enough to see a man and think of a weapon, it was a sword. The one weapon he, inexplicably, couldn’t stand.
Not for the first time today—and, knowing his luck, probably not for the last—Jieyuan found himself utterly lost. Thoroughly confused.
What is even happening?
Jieyuan narrowed his eyes, trying to convince himself of what he was seeing.
The man—the man, not the sword—was tall. Towering, even. As tall as Daojue, closer to seven feet than six. Powerfully built, too—the robes he wore were form-fitting and did little to hide his form. The kind of build Jieyuan had only ever seen on Daojue.
He was handsome, too. Once again, Jieyuan couldn’t help but compare the newcomer to Daojue. The man looked almost as good as Jieyuan’s teammate, but with even sharper lines—too sharp. Severe.
The man had the ageless youth typical of cultivators; he could’ve easily passed for his early twenties. His hair was long, straight, and black, falling freely over his shoulders.
And then there were his eyes.
They weren’t black.
They were silver.
Not gray. Not even a bright, whitish gray. They were silver, with a metallic sheen to them. Almost reflective.
The robes he wore were the same color. Silver. Not a usual color for robes. An extravagant one, if anything. The type that drew the eye. But the design of the man’s clothes didn’t match their color. His robes were plain, unadorned. Utilitarian.
Even more curiously, he wore no armor, his hands bare and dark boots visible beneath his robes. Nor did Jieyuan see any accessory on him—no rings, bracelets, necklaces, or pouches. He didn’t even seem to be carrying a weapon, sheathed or otherwise.
Jieyuan’s eyes met the man’s. Silver against black.
The man’s expression was neutral, unreadable. Same for his stare.
It lasted only a moment before the man broke eye contact, shifting his gaze to a spot farther off, behind Jieyuan, and walked out of the tunnel.
Jieyuan did nothing, just watched, tense, as the man stepped around him and came to a stop in front of Jieyuan and Daojue, to their left—and directly across from the Viridian.
The mist-wreathed beast, for its part, had gone quiet the moment the man had spoken up earlier, and now had all of its heavy, suffocating attention on this newcomer.
The man and the Viridian stared at each other, separated by half of the cavern. Neither spoke. Neither moved.
Jieyuan and Meiyao didn’t move, either. Only Daojue did—gathering himself, standing back up straighter. He still looked shaken up—a little pale, lines of sweat running down his forehead—but he seemed much better off than he’d been earlier. Recovering.
Which meant Jieyuan wasn’t the only one who had been released from the Viridian’s influence by the silver-eyed man’s appearance.
Jieyuan had all sorts of questions right now, but one in particular stood out.
Jieyuan stared at the man’s profile, at the way he coolly regarded the Viridian with his silver eyes.
Who are you?
Jieyuan was not surprised at all that his soulsense couldn’t read anything where the man was. But Jieyuan also wasn’t getting that sense of power he’d gotten from the Violetsoul eagle and the Viridian. Which couldn’t be right, since the man had to be at least near their level of power. Jieyuan didn’t see how he could’ve broken the Viridian’s hold on them otherwise.
And then there was what his senses kept telling him. That the thing between him and the Viridian wasn’t a man, but a sword.
PLUNDERER.
The Viridian’s voice rang inside Jieyuan’s soul again. But this time, all he heard was the voice—there was no blast of emotions or feelings accompanying it. Jieyuan could still read the tone of the voice itself, though.
The Viridian sounded wary. There wasn’t any real heat to the word, even though it had the look of an insult. Rather, it felt more like the statement of a fact. But a dangerous fact—hence the wariness.
Jieyuan wasn’t sure how to take that. The Viridian had seemed like it’d been about to kill Daojue—and Jieyuan was still unpacking all of that—and the silver-eyed man had appeared out of nowhere and intervened. So his putting the Viridian on edge was a good thing.
On the other hand, they didn’t know the man’s intentions, either. And Plunderer didn’t seem like the name—or title—you’d get by being all nice and helpful.
“Muyeshen,” the man said. His voice was firm, strong, even. “It has been some time. The epochs have not been kind to you.”
CEASE THE CHATTER, PLUNDERER.
The Viridian’s voice rang sharp and cutting—and the wariness Jieyuan had sensed before seemed even stronger.
Muyeshen. Is that its name? That sounded right to Jieyuan. Fitting, even. Even more than Viridian.
The Viridian itself—Muyeshen?—didn’t seem to be moving. It just loomed there one step past Meiyao. But the coat of mist around it was still rippling—even harder than when Muyeshen had been confronting Daojue.
“Very well,” the silver-eyed man said. “I am—”
TELL ME, PLUNDERER. HAVE YOU COME TO DO WHAT YOU DO BEST AND TAKE WHAT DOES NOT BELONG TO YOU?
Muyeshen came off strong. Too strong, like it was putting up a front. Challenging and threatening at the same time. The mist around Muyeshen wasn’t just rippling anymore, but outright surging, pulsing outwards in great, rolling waves.
Meiyao took a few steps away, avoiding the frantic pulses of mist coming off Muyeshen. She looked back and forth between the towering beast on her side and the silver-eyed man at the entrance to the cavern. Her brows were tightly bunched together, her lips pressed thin. Unsure about what was happening, what she was supposed to do.
Jieyuan was glad he wasn’t alone in that, though he’d have preferred it if Meiyao had known what to do.
They were so far out of their depth they might as well have been in another dimension entirely.
“Had you been at your peak? Perhaps,” the Plunderer said, then sighed. “But you hold no interest to me in such a diminished state. You aren’t even a shadow of yourself, Muyeshen. You aren’t even you anymore—just the stubborn echo of what you once were, stubbornly clinging onto existence. No, Muyeshen. I don’t—”
YOU LIE. YOU SEEK MY LEGACY. YOU—
“Primordial,” the Plunderer cut in, and all of a sudden his tone was flat, and his silver eyes were flinty. “That is the second time you have interrupted me. There will not be a third.”
There was an edge to the man’s voice now. The sheathed sword Jieyuan kept seeing in his place slid a fraction out of its sheath. A pressure built up in Jieyuan’s chest. His lungs seemed to close up, his mouth going dry.
The Plunderer took a step forward, staring down Muyeshen. “I understand your condition, and I respect your legacy, but do not forget yourself. Do not forget who I am. Forgiveness and temperance are not in my nature.”
YOU ARE THE ONE WHO FORGETS HIMSELF, PLUNDERER. YOU ARE NAUGHT BUT A MISTAKE LEFT ALONE FAR TOO LONG. A FESTERING WOUND UPON THE WORLD.
There was silence. For a good, long while, the man simply stared at Muyeshen—the Viridian? Primordial?—with a steely, hard look on his face. Muyeshen stared back as the mist on its body seethed and raged.
Jieyuan was as tense as he’d ever been, watching the stand-off. Even as he went over each and every word said. They were like pieces of a puzzle, and as he put them together, the resulting picture was one he wasn’t sure he believed in.
Because if he understood correctly, Muyeshen—the Viridian, supposed Primordial—wasn’t at its peak, but rather in a severely weakened state. Or, if the Plunderer had meant his words literally, then the Muyeshen before them was only a fragment of the original.
Whatever Muyeshen was, it wasn’t at full strength or anywhere close to it. And yet its power had still seemed to dwarf that of a Violetsoul beast.
Just when Jieyuan thought a fight would break out—a fight he wasn’t sure he and Meiyao and Daojue would survive, given the level of the ones involved—the Plunderer sighed loudly, shaking his head.
“You are too far gone,” he said, quietly. Then, louder, he continued, “Very well, Primordial. So be it. I’ll repeat myself. I have no interest in your legacy. I have found my own path.”
YOUR PATH? A TRAIL OF PLUNDER AND SACRILEGE. YET I SHALL TAKE YOUR WORD FOR IT, PLUNDERER. TELL ME. FOR WHAT REASON DO YOU DARKEN MY LAIR?
Muyeshen’s voice seemed controlled again—less ragged, less flaring—but Jieyuan could still hear the strain in it. The tightness. Its cloak of mist was contained now, no longer spreading, but it was still churning intensely.
“Your lair, Primordial, but my land,” the Plunderer said evenly. His tone didn’t rise, but the words felt heavy. “I knew of your presence in my domain, but I was content to leave you in peace. You should have known, however, that I would not stand for the murder of the boy. Not by one such as you.”
EVEN NOW YOU PROTECT HIS GET?
A violent ripple surged through Muyeshen’s mist cloak. The air around it seemed to shimmer, and the aura of power Muyeshen radiated spiked.
But just as Jieyuan felt his body locking up again, the Plunderer, not looking away from Muyeshen, made a dismissive gesture with his hand, and the pressure vanished.
But Muyeshen wasn’t done.
THE PLUNDERER AND THE SCOURGE. THE HEAVENS HAVE COMMITTED MANY MISTAKES. YET NONE AS GREAT AS THE TWO OF YOU.
The silver-robed man said nothing. His silence was deliberate, almost disdainful.
It was Muyeshen who gave in.
DO AS YOU WISH, PLUNDERER.
Its cloak of mist was still seething, but stayed contained.
THE HEAVENS KNOW YOU HAVE NEVER DONE OTHERWISE. TAKE THE VILE SPAWN AND BE DONE WITH IT.
The Plunderer inclined his head, just barely. His eyes flicked toward Meiyao. “I understand you will be giving the girl your trial. I will do the same for the boy.”
Trial?
Jieyuan shot a look at Meiyao, but she seemed as confused as he was.
YOUR INTENTIONS INTEREST ME NOT, PLUNDERER. BEGONE.
“I will also be taking the other boy with me.”
Jieyuan tensed. What?
Judging by Muyeshen’s reaction, Jieyuan wasn’t the only one caught off guard.
WHY? HIS SOUL IS EXCEPTIONAL. YET IT IS NOT ENOUGH TO WARRANT YOUR INTEREST.
The silver-eyed man’s lips curled faintly—more a shadow than a smile. “I thought my intentions interested you none, Primordial?”
Muyeshen’s mist rippled across its frame with barely contained fury.
I CARE NAUGHT FOR THE TIANZIJUN BUT TO SEE HIM GONE. THE FIRESOUL IS DIFFERENT. MY DAUGHTER CARES FOR HIM. YOU WILL NOT TAKE HIM.
Jieyuan took a deep breath. They were talking of him—of taking him and Daojue away. There was no doubt Muyeshen and the Plunderer were existences far beyond him. But they seemed to be at least willing to listen—at least to each other, even if grudgingly—so he had to at least try. Try to understand what they were getting into here.
He took a step forward, clearing his throat, making to speak—
The man glanced back. Silver eyes lingered on him for a moment.
And then Muyeshen’s aura of power bore down on him—and he was rendered utterly immobile again.
Jieyuan would’ve screamed if he could.
Whatever the Plunderer had been doing to protect him from Muyeshen’s power, it had just stopped.
The Plunderer turned back to Muyeshen. “The girl will see him again. Should he survive, I will return him here.”
If Muyeshen had noticed what just happened, it gave no sign of it—maybe because it didn't want Jieyuan interrupting either.
NO. I DO NOT ACCEPT THAT. TELL ME, PLUNDERER. FOR WHAT REASON DO YOU TAKE THE FIRESOUL?
“It is not as if my trialworld hurts for space.” The Plunderer sounded unconcerned, like he was speaking of some trifling matter. “I stand to lose nothing by taking him as well.”
YOU ALSO STAND TO GAIN NOTHING. I DO NOT BELIEVE YOU, PLUNDERER. EGOISM IS WOVEN INTO YOUR SOUL. YOU DO NOTHING THAT DOES NOT BENEFIT YOURSELF. YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF IT.
The silver-eyed man stood motionless, his expression unreadable, while the weight of the accusation pressed down on the cavern.
IT IS AS YOU SAID. I AM DIMINISHED. YET I WILL NOT BE FOOLED.
The Plunderer gave Muyeshen a long, silent stare. When he spoke, it was quiet, almost weary.
“No,” he said. “But you can be blinded, Muyeshen.”
Then he turned around. His back to Muyeshen, he unhurriedly walked over to Jieyuan and Daojue, and then reached out with both arms.
One hand landed on Jieyuan’s shoulder. The other, he was pretty sure, had landed on Daojue, though he couldn’t see it, not with how locked in place he was.
At the Plunderer’s touch, Jieyuan’s instincts screamed louder than ever.
—SWORDSWORDSWORDSWORDSWORD—
The word wasn’t just in his head now. It coursed through his veins and breath, rattling his bones. His skin crawled, his throat clenched. He felt that surge of revulsion, that sick twist of aversion that always struck him whenever he had a sword in his hands. But it was stronger than he’d ever felt it. Overwhelmingly so.
His stomach turned. His vision narrowed. His body wanted to recoil, to tear away—but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything. Muyeshen’s power was still bearing down on him.
Past the Plunderer, Jieyuan saw mist burst from Muyeshen in a great tidal surge, flooding the cavern with wild, violent currents.
PLUNDERER!
The voice wasn’t heard so much as it was driven straight into Jieyuan’s soul, a deafening roar splitting through the already-shrieking echo of SWORD.
I DID NOT GIVE YOU LEAVE—
The air warped. Jieyuan’s vision stretched thin, like a sheet of paper pulled from both ends until it tore. The cavern, the mist, Muyeshen’s looming bulk—all of it collapsed, swallowed in an instant.
For an instant and an eternity, there was only a void. A boundless, formless expanse, colorless and soundless, pressing in from every direction.
Jieyuan’s chest constricted, his heart convulsed, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure he had a body at all. Just the barest hint of himself, dangling on the edge of something immeasurable.
And then—
He hit the ground hard. Air rushed into his lungs as his senses snapped back into place.
He blinked rapidly, staring upward at a gray, featureless sky that stretched endlessly above.
