Mo Yan moved without hesitation, swinging his sword to intercept the blade that was inches from Kaelin's neck. Steel clashed, and with a swift arc, he severed the attacker's throat.
Kaelin stood frozen in horror—but it wasn't over.
Without ranged support covering their flank, two more enemies rushed toward them. Mo Yan cast a brief glance back at Kaelin, then raised his sword.
Clang! He deflected the first strike, then followed up with a vicious horizontal slash that tore through both enemies' midsections.
His movements were fluid, methodical—clean. Not a single move wasted, no unnecessary flourish.
Kaelin stood there like a statue, stunned. For a moment, she seriously questioned—had Mo Yan killed before?
Mo Yan turned to look at her, his face flecked with blood. His expression was cold, voice calm but steely.
"No one wants to see blood here. But to survive… sometimes, we don't have a choice."
"…He's right," Tianlang added from nearby. "Don't forget, this is the Black Domain. In this chaotic world, people stain their hands with blood just to stay alive."
Kaelin, still pale, slowly bent down and picked up her pistols again. She gave a stiff nod.
"I understand. Sorry."
"Oh? So there is a little songbird among you after all."
The voice came from a distance—Fengling, standing calmly amidst the chaos, watching with a wry smile. She stepped forward, addressing Kaelin.
"Little girl, first time seeing blood, isn't it? Back in the Teyvat of old, this was just… routine."
She grinned, maliciously sweet.
"But no matter. If you don't want to see blood, I'll be your opponent instead."
Tianlang sneered. "The commander herself taking the field? I'm flattered."
"Oh, don't be like that, Young Master Tianlang," Fengling purred. "I know what you're thinking—'a woman can't possibly be a threat.' But underestimating women is a bad habit."
As she spoke, a pink scythe shimmered into her hand.
Its blade ran parallel, dull-edged, engraved with the delicate form of butterflies.
Tianlang scoffed. "I'm not looking down on you. I'm saying that thing looks more like a child's toy than a weapon."
Fengling chuckled. "Toys can be dangerous too. But from now on, do call me by my true name—Dream Immortal."
She tapped the scythe to the ground like a mage's staff.
In an instant, swarms of butterflies filled the air—dancing like spirits in a dream, forming a world of illusion that shimmered and twisted like a waking nightmare.
"What… is this?" Kaelin whispered, gazing at the surreal surroundings.
"Stay sharp," Zixuan warned. "This is wrong. Something's… off."
The four stood back-to-back. But within the illusion, wisps of smoke began drifting in, taking on humanoid shapes—flickering shadows of Fengling, scythes in hand, floating and circling like ghosts.
"Let's see," Fengling's voice echoed seductively, "how long you can last in my dream waltz."
Even as sleep crept at the edge of their minds, the four tried to stay alert. But attacks came without warning. Gentle, almost playful—but enough to disorient.
It felt like being mocked.
Mo Yan grit his teeth.
Dream Immortal… was this her true power?
Zhao Heng had once said that Fengling had a way of disguising herself so well it could fool anyone. Now, Mo Yan realized—it must be this ability. An illusion so vivid it overwrote reality.
No, they couldn't keep wasting time like this.
Even if Fengling wasn't trying to kill them, the longer they stayed trapped, the worse Yaohui's situation might become.
He clenched his fists.
"Zixuan! Can you enhance my senses?"
Zixuan blinked. "Enhance… your perception?"
"Exactly. Even just that. Please!"
She nodded, raising her staff and pointing it toward him. A wave of energy washed over Mo Yan—his senses immediately sharpened, body growing more attuned to everything around him.
With a deep breath, he activated his warrior's aura, further boosting his awareness.
Suddenly, the illusion snapped into clarity.
He could see the outlines of the dream. What had seemed impenetrable mist was now clear—a stage crafted by magic.
"There you are!"
He rushed forward, eyes fixed on a hazy corner of the illusion. A shadow lunged at him—one of the phantoms—but he didn't swing. He simply ran through it.
The phantom dissolved like smoke.
It's not real. If it's just an illusion, then you only need the will to push past it.
That was why he asked for the perception boost—to tell dream from reality.
Bursting through the final wisp, Mo Yan leapt into the air, sword raised.
Wham!
Fengling flinched, narrowly dodging the attack.
Though the strike missed, the illusion shattered the moment she withdrew.
She looked truly surprised. "Already broke through my dreamscape?"
"Wasn't that hard," Mo Yan replied with a smirk, sword pointed at her.
But before anyone could respond—
BOOM!
A deafening crash echoed through the canyon.
Everyone froze.
Some smiled—others paled.
They thought it might be Yaohui's downfall—but then, Hong Tao's body flew out of the gorge like a cannonball, crashing into the ground in a mangled heap.
Gasps. Silence.
Fengling stared, stunned. "Hong Tao…? What the hell—?"
Covered in dust and blood, Yaohui stepped out of the canyon. His clothes were torn, and his body bore signs of battle—but his gaze was sharp and burning.
"Yaohui!" Tianlang shouted, eyes wide with relief. "Thank god. Are you okay?!"
Yaohui nodded faintly, eyes fixed ahead.
"I'm fine. That sorry lot? Not even close to enough."
"Tch. You really love to act tough," Madblade snorted. "Taking out Rocklord? Not bad. But climbing out of Wolfbane Gorge must've worn you out. Let's see how long you can keep that tough talk going!"
He blurred forward, darting like the wind.
Yaohui didn't move. He watched, unimpressed.
Madblade reached him in a blink, blades flashing.
Yaohui raised his sword and casually swung down.
Madblade grinned—he slipped past the strike, blinking to Yaohui's back.
"You've got power, sure—but you're too damn slow!"
He raised his blades to strike—
Thud!
A single spinning kick caught him square in the ribs.
"Gahhhhh!!!"
Madblade was launched like a missile, crashing into the canyon wall and embedding there, half-buried in stone.
He didn't come back out.
"When did green-headed flies learn how to talk?" Yaohui mocked, arms crossed.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Fengling emerged, smiling.
"Impressive, Evilbane. To defeat two of my companions—quite the feat."
"Spare me the flattery," Yaohui muttered. "I'll give you credit—you planned the ambush in Wolfbane Gorge well. But if you thought this much was enough to take me down… you've seriously underestimated me."
Fengling chuckled. "True. You've surpassed my expectations. But don't be so quick to think it's over. You might still regret it."
"Oh? So you've got a backup plan?"
"Naturally."
She twirled her scythe and smiled.
In an instant, another wave of butterflies erupted into the air.
This time, they didn't blanket the entire field.
They swarmed only one person.
Yaohui.
~~------------------------
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