"You're too slow," he muttered—half to himself—as he slashed at Tang San.
Tang San barely dodged the first strike, his body twisting midair. "He's after my external bone!"
"Then give it up," the attacker snapped. "Your bones... or your life."
"Over my dead body!" Tang San roared.
The clash erupted.
Blue Silver Grass lashed out against waves of flame. Hidden weapons met blazing slashes. Tang San fought with every ounce of his strength—but he was at a clear disadvantage. The attacker was faster, his strikes far too precise. The intention was clear: not to kill him outright—but to wear him down, rip the Eight Spider Lances from his back, and disappear before anyone could interfere.
Tang San screamed in pain as a strike grazed his shoulder.
The attacker moved like a phantom. Mo Luochen, cloaked in illusion, unleashed another wave of fire-tinged strikes, each more brutal and precise than the last. The Blue Silver Grass defenses began to tear apart under the pressure. Tang San's breath grew ragged, steps faltering. His hidden weapons failed to find their mark. He was being outmatched—completely.
A heavy kick struck his side.
Tang San flew into a tree with a sickening thud, coughing blood. His legs buckled, and he dropped to one knee. His spider lances twitched, blood seeping from the base where they emerged from his back.
"Still resisting?" the attacker sneered.
Mo Luochen appeared behind him—silent, lethal. Before Tang San could react, he grabbed the Eight Spider Lances with both hands.
"No—!" Tang San gasped, trying to struggle, but his limbs wouldn't respond.
"Don't worry. I'll put them to good use," Mo Luochen whispered, almost kindly.
Then, with a savage pull—
RIP.
The Eight Spider Lances tore free from Tang San's back, muscles tearing, blood bursting into the air like a geyser. Tang San screamed—a raw, agonizing sound—and collapsed forward, body shaking violently.
His consciousness shattered.
And then, silence.
The attacker looked down at the still, broken form of Tang San—unconscious, barely breathing.
The Eight Spider Lances pulsed faintly in his hands, still slick with blood.
Mo Luochen looked at them with a chilling smile.
"Mine now."
And in the distance… no one had yet realized what had happened.
"Hmm… someone's coming," Luochen said quietly, his gaze scanning the forest canopy.
He knew full well that Tang San was only pretending to be unconscious now. The boy's breathing rhythm had subtly changed, his muscles tense with anticipation.
With a small, unreadable smile, Luochen activated his Chameleon King's ability and slipped away—his form blending seamlessly into the surroundings as he disappeared without a trace.
Just as the disguised version of Luochen vanished into the thick mist of the forest, the real Mo Luochen emerged from another path—his true self, calm and composed.
This time, there was no illusion, no distortion from the Chameleon King's disguise.
He walked into the clearing with steady steps, wearing the concerned expression of someone arriving too late to help.
Tang San was still on the ground, trying to push himself up, breathing hard and trembling. His shoulder was scorched, his clothes torn, and most importantly—his back was bare.
The Eight Spider Lances were gone.
But now came the real act—the cover-up.
"Tang San?" he said, rushing forward. "What happened here?"
Tang San looked up, face pale, blood at the corner of his lips. "Mo Luochen… there was someone… a Spirit Master with a Flaming Sword Martial Spirit. He ambushed me."
Luochen crouched beside him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "A Flaming Sword Martial Spirit?" He frowned. "but why would he attack you for no reason?" he asked as he looked at Tang San while helping him.
Tang San nodded weakly. "He said my external spirit bone hadn't fused completely… and then—he took it. Ripped it from me."
Luochen's eyes widened just enough. "He took… your Eight Spider Lances?"
Tang San gritted his teeth, rage seething behind his voice. "Yes! Just before you arrived. He disappeared right after."
Luochen stayed still for a moment, then let out a slow, steady breath—projecting calm and empathy. "You're lucky to be alive. External spirit bones are rare enough to make even saints into monsters."
He reached into his robes, pulling out a porcelain vial. "Here. A high-grade healing pill. It'll stabilize your condition."
Tang San hesitated, then took it. He swallowed quickly, and warmth began to spread through his chest and limbs. The pain dulled. His breathing became easier.
But inside, Tang San's fury hadn't faded.
Luochen, meanwhile, kept his voice low and his tone careful. "You said it was someone with a Flaming Sword. That's important. Next time, I'll kill him myself."
Tang San nodded slowly. "Thank you, Mo Luochen…"
Luochen stood and turned away slightly—hiding the flicker of a cold smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.
He doesn't suspect me.
Good.
Now, all evidence pointed toward a mysterious Flaming Sword Spirit Master. Luochen had successfully removed both the spirit bone and the suspicion.
After some time, Tang San opened his eyes and forced himself upright. "Let's go. We have to find that bastard who stole my external spirit bone—and also rescue Xiao Wu," he said firmly.
Luochen simply nodded, maintaining his composed expression as the two moved silently through the forest—one looking for Xiao Wu, and the other chasing a Spirit Master who didn't even exist.
Eventually, they came across Zhao Wuji and the others. Relief swept across Zhao Wuji's face as he stepped forward.
"It's good to see you both safe," he said, voice calm but edged with concern. "You've been gone for a while."
Xiao Wu, now safe, ran up and threw herself into Tang San's arms. "You idiot," she muttered against his chest. "You scared me…"
Tang San's eyes softened as he hugged her tightly. "I'm just glad you're okay."
Zhao Wuji gave Tang San a long, careful look. "So… you've managed to gain control over your Eight Spider Lances? Keep them hidden for now. Best not to draw attention."
He had assumed the spirit bone was still with Tang San—simply retracted and hidden from view. After all, the Eight Spider Lances weren't visible on his back.
But at those words, Tang San's hands clenched involuntarily, his nails digging into his palms. His jaw tightened.
*******
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