"Pfft—!"
Even though Han Yu had reinforced his Heaven-Defying Sword Intent at the last moment, some attacks still pierced through his defense in his haste.
They grazed his chest, spraying a small burst of scalding blood.
Han Yu grunted, his body drifting backward like a weightless fallen leaf carried by the spear's momentum.
At the same time, his right hand swung his long sword in a rapid arc, his Heaven-Defying Sword Intent shifting from defense to offense, harnessing the enemy's spear force to strike viciously at the weakest point of the already-shaky confinement array barrier!
"Riiiip—!"
The array barrier was torn open with a narrow slit.
All of this happened in a flash of lightning.
From the sword qi's appearance, the finger-sword being blocked, Han Yu taking the spear strike, to borrowing force to break the array—it was nearly completed in a single instant.
"Trying to escape?!"
Zhan Wuji was both shocked and furious. He vibrated his long spear, and his blood-colored killing aura boiled once more as he prepared to pursue.
He was determined to leave that heavily wounded prey dead for good.
However, just as he was about to move, a figure in pure white silently appeared between him and the crack in the array.
It was the owner of that sword qi.
Han Yu didn't even have time to see the person's features clearly. He only caught a glimpse of a pure white skirt hem and felt an icy, bone-chilling aura of annihilation that seemed capable of freezing all emotion.
His survival instinct overrode everything else. Without the slightest hesitation, his body transformed into a faint blue blood shadow.
At the cost of burning his essence blood, he instantly escaped through that crack, vanishing in the blink of an eye into the dark, winding depths of the dungeon passage.
He left behind only one bone-chilling, murder-laced sentence echoing in the air:
"Ye Fan... traitor... I will kill you!"
The voice gradually faded until it could no longer be heard.
Inside the dungeon, for a moment, only the residual hum of the array and the thick, cloying scent of blood remained.
Zhan Wuji ultimately did not give chase.
It wasn't that he didn't want to, but the pure white figure before him radiated an aura that, while not aggressive, carried an undeniable authority.
He slowly retracted his Heaven-Rending Spear, the tip angled toward the ground as crimson blood beads slowly slid down the blade.
He raised his head, his gaze ice-cold, staring fixedly at this uninvited guest.
"Zhu Qingcheng," he said through gritted teeth, his voice suppressing a torrential fury and dissatisfaction. "Do you realize you've ruined my plans?"
If she hadn't interfered, Han Yu would be a corpse by now! That was one of the lower realm's key pieces.
Killing him would have dealt a massive blow to their morale and earned Zhan Wuji an extraordinary merit!
Only now did a figure slowly come into view—a woman dressed in a spotless pure white gown.
Her beauty was extraordinary, yet lifeless, like an ice sculpture carved from jade. Not a trace of human emotion could be found on her delicate features.
Her eyes were clear yet hollow, as though they could reflect nothing in this world.
The aura of annihilation that permeated her body was of the same origin as that pure white sword qi. She was none other than one of the Ten Holy Sons who cultivated the Way of Ruthlessness—Zhu Qingcheng.
Facing Zhan Wuji's murderous glare and questioning, Zhu Qingcheng didn't even blink.
Her voice was flat and cold, devoid of any inflection, as though she were stating a fact unrelated to herself: "He knows much intelligence about the opposing side. Alive is more important than dead."
"Intelligence?" Zhan Wuji scoffed as if he'd heard the greatest joke, his tone dripping with contempt for everything beyond the upper realm.
"That ragtag bunch down there, stray dogs struggling to survive—what worthwhile intelligence could they possibly have? Killing their core figures and crushing their will is the fastest way to end this game!"
He stepped forward, closing in on Zhu Qingcheng. His powerful slaughter battle intent pressed down like a physical force, trying to shake her icy demeanor.
"Or perhaps, Zhu Qingcheng... you have some private agenda?"
Zhu Qingcheng's aura of annihilation subtly shifted, effortlessly dissolving that overwhelming battle intent into nothing. Her expression remained unchanged.
Zhan Wuji stared at her flawless face, a meaningful cold smile curling at the corner of his lips as he deliberately slowed his speech.
"Of course, it's not impossible that you're... still thinking about that old lover of yours? After all, the one standing on the other side now is his son..."
However, Zhu Qingcheng's reaction once again exceeded Zhan Wuji's expectations.
She showed no anger, no shame, not even the slightest ripple of emotion. She slowly raised those hollow eyes to look at Zhan Wuji.
Her voice still flat and cold, yet carrying a finality that brooked no argument:
"I cultivate the Way of Ruthlessness."
It was neither a defense nor an emphasis. It was a statement of the fundamental truth of her existence.
Because she cultivated the Way of Ruthlessness, she could have no private agenda, no lingering attachments.
Everything from the past, to her, was nothing more than extinguished dust—not even worthy of being mentioned.
Zhan Wuji's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.
He stared intently into Zhu Qingcheng's eyes, searching for the faintest trace of pretense in that void.
But he failed. In those eyes, there was nothing but endless cold and annihilation, as though his venomous words had been nothing more than inconsequential gossip.
He certainly knew Zhu Qingcheng cultivated the Way of Ruthlessness—his earlier remark had been a deliberate probe.
But the result of that probe unsettled him. This woman's dao heart seemed even colder, even more absolute, than he had imagined.
"Hmph!" Zhan Wuji snorted coldly, withdrawing his outward battle intent.
Since the probe yielded nothing, there was no point in staying.
Han Yu had escaped. This mission had fallen short, and it left him extremely displeased.
He no longer looked at Zhu Qingcheng or Ye Fan in the cell. Hefting his Heaven-Rending Spear, he turned and strode away, his blood-red cape billowing behind him.
His voice carried an unmistakable warning: "You'd better be telling the truth. Otherwise, the consequences of ruining something major—you know full well."
The heavy footsteps quickly faded, and silence returned to the dungeon, leaving only the lingering scent of blood and the fading remnants of the shattered array.
Zhu Qingcheng hadn't moved an inch from start to finish. Her expression hadn't changed in the slightest, as though Zhan Wuji's coming and going had no effect on her whatsoever.
Only after Zhan Wuji's aura had completely vanished did she slowly turn. Those annihilating eyes fell upon the cell.
Ye Fan had long since dropped his earlier look of terror. Some color had returned to his face, but his gaze toward Zhu Qingcheng held clear reverence.
He hurriedly bowed, his tone deeply respectful: "Many thanks to the Immortal Venerable for saving my life!"
If Zhu Qingcheng hadn't intervened, Han Yu's Netherworld Finger-Sword would have pierced his brow by now, destroying both body and soul.
Zhu Qingcheng gave a slight nod, acknowledging his gratitude, but her attitude remained distant and cold, as though she had merely saved a valuable object.
Her red lips parted slightly, her voice devoid of any warmth:
"The Holy Emperor wishes to see you."
Five simple words, yet they made Ye Fan's body tremble slightly. He immediately bowed even deeper.
"Yes! I shall follow the Immortal Venerable's decree and the Holy Emperor's summons!"
Zhu Qingcheng said nothing more, and didn't even lift a hand to dispel the cell's restrictions—they dissolved silently the moment she turned away.
She turned, the hem of her pure white gown tracing a cold arc as she walked toward the dungeon's exit.
Ye Fan didn't dare dawdle for even a moment, immediately hurrying after her with his head lowered and his posture extremely humble.
One figure in white, one in gray—the two walked in single file through the dim dungeon corridors.
Only the crisp echo of footsteps rang out, as though heading toward an unknown and profound destiny.
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