As soon as the darkness of the winding alleys of the black market vanished behind him, far enough that not even the sharpened senses of an expert could reach him, Xiang Yun's facade of power crumbled.
"Damn it! Looks like I underestimated my own strength."
He leaned against a cold, damp wall, his body trembling, and with a shaking hand, removed the demon mask. The moment fresh air touched his face, the forced composure abandoned him completely.
His body lurched forward, and he barely managed to catch himself on the opposite wall before collapsing to the filthy ground. A wave of nausea surged up his throat, and he doubled over, vomiting a mouthful of dark red blood that splattered the dust at his feet.
His once impassive face was now pale as paper, and beads of cold sweat broke across his forehead. A bitter, exhausted smile curled his lips.
"I'm still... still not strong enough," he muttered to the silence, his voice hoarse.
The victory over Shen Xiu hadn't been nearly as easy as he had made it seem. It was a high-stakes gamble that had demanded every ounce of his energy. First, he had to channel a massive amount of Soul Force to engrave the forty-nine complex inscriptions onto the Lunar Star Tear. Then, he had to activate it precisely at the moment of impact.
And finally, the killing blow: forcing a slave seal into the Soul Realm of a Silver-level expert, even a sealed one, was like trying to dam a river with his bare hands. His Soul Force was dangerously close to zero, scraping the bottom of his Soul Realm. The overexertion was what caused the internal damage, resulting in the blood he had just coughed up.
Cough! Cough! Xiang Yun coughed a few more times, vomiting blood again.
He couldn't afford to remain in that vulnerable state for long. With slow, deliberate movements, he searched through his interspatial ring and pulled out a small bottle of pills. They were Soul Recovery Pills, ones he had refined himself earlier.
Without hesitation, he poured three of them into his palm and swallowed them all at once—an act that would make any alchemist flinch from the waste, but which was necessary given his condition.
He closed his eyes, focusing on guiding the warm, gentle energy the pills released throughout his body. Gradually, the hollow feeling in his Soul Realm began to fade, and the trembling in his limbs lessened. It wasn't full recovery—not even close—but it was enough to dull the pain and restore a fraction of his strength.
After several minutes of silent meditation, feeling somewhat relieved and with a bit of color returning to his face, he opened his eyes.
He cast one last glance toward the black market's darkness—a place of danger and opportunity that he had successfully navigated, though by a razor-thin margin.
With the mask now stored in his interspatial ring and his posture a bit steadier, he blended into the crowd and began the path back to the relative safety of his inn.
---
[Winged Dragon Family]
On the other side of town, at the Winged Dragon Family's mansion, Xiao Ning'er's return was marked by a biting coldness that in no way resembled the soft breeze of her courtyard. The moment she passed through the gates, the figure of her father, Xiao Yunfeng, stood in her way. His shoulders were hunched, the weight of pressure from the family elders clear in his posture.
"Ning'er," he began, his voice tired, "I know you're upset about the marriage situation. But the elders... you know, they insist on your engagement to Shen Fei. It's for the good of the family."
She walked past him as if he were a shadow, a breeze indifferent to his presence. Her cold eyes, usually serene, held a storm beneath the surface. No response. Not even a glance. Just a cold, emotionless "Humph."
The "Humph" was merely to confirm that she had heard what he had to say. Ignoring them all like this was her only weapon for now—a silent refusal to bow to the fate they were trying to impose.
"I won't surrender to this miserable fate. Just wait!" she clenched her fists.
Without even pausing to rest or change clothes, she went straight to the solitude of her courtyard. The outside world, with its pressures and expectations, disappeared. There, under the silent gaze of a familiar cherry blossom tree she had planted with her mother when she was younger, she was the master of her own fate.
The scroll of the "Wind and Lightning Blade" given to her by Xiang Yun was carefully unrolled over a stone table, its complex inscriptions a challenge she was eager to master as quickly as possible.
"I have to succeed, no matter what," she thought, determined.
Closing her eyes, Ning'er first attempted the method written in the scroll. Her soul force, a swirling cyan vortex, emerged from her Soul Realm, spinning furiously in her palm.
She tried to shape it, to force it into the form of a blade, to make it crackle with the raw power of lightning and slice with the fury of wind. But the energy was volatile, wild.
It dispersed easily, refusing to obey her will. But she didn't stop. She bit her lip and kept going, with no rest and no desire to receive visitors.
Minutes turned into nearly an hour of fruitless effort, and frustration began to eat away at her concentration. "Why isn't it working? What am I doing wrong?" Sweat beaded on her forehead, trailing down her temples, but her will refused to break.
'No... not like this. It's too unstable.' A new idea sparked—a flicker of inspiration amid the struggle. 'I need a conduit. Something to guide the flow, to give shape to the wind and lightning blade.'
Her eyes opened and landed on a training dagger resting on the table. It was simple, unadorned, but it was the dagger that had accompanied her for a long time, almost becoming an extension of her will.
Gripping the familiar dagger tightly, she began again. This time, she didn't try to create the blade from nothing. Instead, she channeled her soul force into the cold steel of the dagger.
The sound of lightning crackling and the rush of wind were the only things that could be heard in that place.
The hours that followed were a blur of pain, sweat, and stubborn determination. The afternoon wore on, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Ning'er's body protested—her muscles burned with continuous effort.
Sweat soaked her dress, the fabric clinging to her skin, revealing her slender curves and the strength hidden within her form. Her breathing turned heavy, a steady rhythm that matched the pulse of her soul force.
'I won't give up,' she thought, the image of Xiang Yun's confident smile etched in her mind. 'He believed in me. He gave me new hope. I can't let him down. I won't be a pawn to my family or anyone else.'
Tiny purple sparks began to jump from the steel blade, crackling and dying almost instantly. Each time a spark hit her, it left a small red mark on her pale skin—a burn that stung sharply.
Her hands, gripping the dagger with steel-like resolve, were soon covered in these marks. The pain was a constant reminder of her struggle, a baptism of fire that she welcomed. The smell of ozone, faint but unmistakable, lingered in the air around her.
"I won't give up!"
She refused to give in to exhaustion. Every time her concentration wavered, every time the pain threatened to overwhelm her, the memory of the humiliation she would face being married to Shen Fei—and the silent promise she made to Xiang Yun—pushed her forward.
CRACKLE!
Zzzzzt!
Finally, just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, something changed. A louder, sharper crack echoed from the dagger.
It was no longer a fleeting spark. Several strands of vibrant, living purple lightning began to coil around the blade, enveloping it in a crackling shroud of soul force. Almost simultaneously, a cutting wind aura formed, swirling around the lightning.
"This is it!"
A wave of pure joy flooded Xiao Ning'er. With a final cry of effort, she poured what was left of her soul force into the dagger. The purple light exploded in brightness, the hum of the wind became a low, menacing roar. The Wind and Lightning Blade was complete.
At that moment, the slicing wind from her hands felt as if it could cut even the soul.
But just as the technique reached its peak, her soul force was utterly depleted. The energy dissipated, the light vanished, and strength left her limbs. Xiao Ning'er collapsed, her legs giving out, and she fell heavily onto the stone floor of the courtyard.
She was gasping, her chest rising and falling violently, her body trembling from exhaustion.
But when she lifted her head, beneath the gentle light of twilight, a radiant smile bloomed on her lips. Her eyes fell to her hands—red, sore, and marked with small lightning burns. They were the testament to her pain, her struggle. They were proof of her triumph.
'I did it...' she thought, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with fatigue. 'Xiang Yun... I didn't let you down.'
At that moment, sitting on the cold ground, exhausted and aching, Xiao Ning'er had never felt so strong.