~ The Fourth Princess — Rescue
The scream came from the east.
Two guards — sword domain cultivators, their blades drawn, their faces panicked — ran through the trees. Behind them, the sound of combat. The clash of steel. The burst of spiritual energy. And screaming. A woman's scream. High. Terrified.
"Elder!" one guard yelled. His voice was ragged. "The fourth princess— an otherworlder— he's—"
A man was thrown. He hit a tree. Coughed. His sword — broken, the blade snapped at the midpoint — fell from his hand. He was a sword domain cultivator. Nascent Soul. His chest was caved in. Blood poured from his mouth.
Behind him, laughing, an otherworlder stepped through the trees. He was large. Body Integration. His skin was dark, his armor minimal, his spiritual energy — suppressed by the domain but still formidable — radiating from him like heat. He carried no weapon. His hands were his weapons.
"Damn," he said. His voice was deep. Rough. Amused. "You look tight. Little bitch."
