The journey to Silverwood was a desperate, harrowing flight through enemy territory. Ren, her own energy still depleted from the fight, pushed her illusionary arts to their absolute limit, weaving a cloak of shadow and misdirection around them. They moved through the forgotten paths of the mortal realm mist choked valleys and ancient, untrodden forests avoiding cities and patrols, a trio of ghosts on the run.
Jax, his massive form a silent bastion of strength, carried the wounded Saint. Lan Yue's condition was deteriorating. The wound in her side, inflicted by Wei Chen's heretical art, was not bleeding, but a network of fine, black veins was spreading from it, a dark poison that seemed to drink the very light from her skin. She was lost in a feverish delirium, her breathing shallow, her celestial energy in a chaotic, losing battle against the encroaching corruption. They were in a race against a poison that was consuming her very soul.
After two days of relentless travel, they arrived. Blackwood Manor stood on a secluded mountain plateau, a magnificent, sprawling estate of dark timber and grey stone, surrounded by a forest of ancient, black barked trees. The air hummed with the power of ancient, invisible wards, far older and more complex than any demonic barrier. As they approached, the wards shimmered, recognized the promise bracelet of White Fox fur on Lan Yue's wrist, and allowed them to pass.
The manor's staff, a group of silent, unnervingly graceful servants with the faint, otherworldly air of bound spirits, met them at the door. They showed no surprise, only a deep, quiet reverence as they led the commanders inside, to a master suite prepared for their arrival.
Xue Lian was already there. She had arrived hours ago via her portal, the instantaneous travel doing nothing to soothe the frantic, tearing anxiety in her heart. She stood by the grand, canopied bed, her face pale, watching as Jax gently laid Lan Yue down upon the silken sheets.
She dismissed the servants and her weary commanders with a wave of her hand. Alone, she moved to the bedside. The sight of Lan Yue, so still and pale, a dark, venomous corruption spreading across her beautiful skin, was a physical blow. Xue Lian reached out, her hand trembling as she touched Lan Yue's forehead. It was burning with fever.
She gently pulled back the torn robes to examine the wound. The Soul Scourge art was as horrific as the legends claimed. It was a spiritual cancer, designed specifically to attack and annihilate a celestial being's core, turning their own pure energy into a self consuming poison. The demonic healers of the Netherworld would be useless against it, and the righteous healers who created it were the very ones hunting her. They were trapped.
A cold, terrifying despair threatened to overwhelm her. She had gotten her back, only to watch her die.
No.
The thought was a blade of ice in her mind, cutting through the despair. She was Xue Lian, the last of the White Fox, the Empress of the Luminous Dynasty. She was a mother. She did not bow to fate. She broke it.
Her mind raced, sifting through a decade of secret study, through the ancient, forbidden knowledge of her own bloodline, and through the memories of their shared nights. Dual cultivation. The transfer of energy. The nature of an Enigma's soul. The answer, when it came, was as brilliant as it was dangerous.
A simple transfusion of her own energy would be useless; the poison would just corrupt it. She couldn't fight the poison from the outside. She had to anchor Lan Yue's soul from within, to link their life forces so inextricably that her own vitality could fight the corruption and keep Lan Yue's spirit from fading.
It was a ritual spoken of only in the most forbidden White Fox texts. A true Soul Bond. It was more permanent than a mark, more binding than an oath. It would weave their very souls together. If Lan Yue's life force faltered, Xue Lian's would pour into her to sustain it. But the reverse was also true. If the poison was too strong and consumed Lan Yue completely, it would have a direct, unassailable bridge to Xue Lian's own soul, and they would die together.
It was the ultimate gambit.
She moved with a sudden, decisive purpose. She barred the doors and began to draw, her fingers tracing complex, glowing arrays on the wooden floor, on her own arms, and on Lan Yue's pale skin. She retrieved the promise bracelet from Lan Yue's wrist, its white fur now a stark contrast to the dark veins on her skin, and placed it on the bedside table, a focal point for the ritual.
She stood over the unconscious form of her lover, a silver ritual dagger in her hand. Her face was a mask of fierce, unwavering determination. The fear was gone, replaced by an absolute, terrifying calm. The world had tried to take Lan Yue from her twice now. It would not get a third chance.
She made the first cut over her own heart, her blood welling up, dark and potent. She then made a matching cut over Lan Yue's.
As she pressed their wounds together, mingling their blood, their life force, their very souls, she whispered into the silent room, her voice a vow.
"I sacrificed my heart to save you once before, my love. I will gladly sacrifice my soul to do it again."