Ji Xuan steadied himself, his fractured sword humming with energy. He exhaled slowly, calm but resolute.
"You are strong," he admitted, "but—"
He moved—a blur of silver and shadow.
His sword lashed out, aiming straight for Yao Yan's heart.
It never reached.
With a single step forward, Yao Yan closed the gap instantly. His bare hand snapped up—catching Ji Xuan's wrist mid-strike.
Ji Xuan's eyes widened.
"Impossible."
Before he could react, Yao Yan's fist crashed into his gut.
A deafening boom erupted. The ground cracked beneath them.
Ji Xuan's breath left him in a sharp gasp as he was sent flying backward, smashing through a boulder.
Qing'er flinched. The power difference was… absurd.
Ji Xuan groaned, struggling to rise. Blood trickled from his lips. He looked up—only to see Yao Yan already in front of him.
"Too fast!"
Yao Yan kicked him in the chest.
Boom!
Ji Xuan flew into the air, body twisting.
Before he could even hit the ground—Yao Yan was already there.
A palm strike to the ribs.
A brutal knee to the back.
A spinning kick that sent him crashing into another cliffside.
The valley shook.
Ji Xuan coughed blood, his vision blurring. He had no chance.
And yet—Yao Yan wasn't finished.
He walked toward him, steps slow, merciless.
"You hurt my master," Yao Yan said casually. His golden eyes burned with something far more dangerous than anger.
"That deserves punishment."
Ji Xuan barely lifted his sword before—
Crack!
Yao Yan stepped on it, shattering it completely.
Ji Xuan froze.
Yao Yan grabbed his throat and lifted him off the ground.
Ji Xuan's feet dangled. He couldn't breathe.
Qing'er took a step forward. "Yao Yan…"
Yao Yan ignored her. His fingers tightened.
"You came here thinking you could take my sword. Take my master's life." His voice was calm, but the valley trembled at his words.
"Tell me, Ji Xuan—"
His golden eyes glowed with a terrifying light.
"Do you want to die?"
Ji Xuan gritted his teeth, refusing to answer.
Yao Yan smirked. "It's not up to you."
He turned slightly—his gaze landing on Qing'er.
"Master," he said, his voice like ice.
"Do you want him dead?"
Silence.
Ji Xuan stared at her. Blood dripped from his lips, but his silver eyes remained steady. He would not beg.
Qing'er's hands trembled. This was her choice.
She looked at Ji Xuan—the arrogant young master who had tried to kill her.
She looked at Yao Yan—the sword spirit who would end him with a single word.
The valley held its breath.
Would she give the order?