Lin Zian lowers his sword slightly, the fading remnants of light—red, orange, yellow, green, blue—dissolving into the predawn darkness.
For a week now, every swing has felt wrong.
Not weak—just… disconnected.
His breakthrough to the Ultimate Master Realm should have elevated his sword technique, but instead, the power of the Seven Light Sword diminished with every refining swing.
And he knows why.
His true qi is no longer true qi.
It has become Dark True Qi—pure, cold, heavy, tyrannical.
The opposite of light.
If the DarkLight Cultivation Technique didn't include that single sentence—that mad hypothesis about "deriving light from darkness"—he would have abandoned this road entirely.
He would have turned fully to the Wizard Way, meditated on laws, refined mana, and stepped into the Spiritual Wizard Realm.
It would be easier.
Logical.
Efficient.
But every time he prepared to make that decision, something deep in his chest tightened—warning, whispering:
If you turn now, you lose everything meant for you.
So he continued.
Swing after swing.
Light from darkness.
A paradox.
A dream.
A truth he has not yet touched.
Just as his sword settles at his side, a voice echoes across the empty training grounds.
"Lin Zian!"
No servant would dare shout like that.
No official would be here before sunrise.
He turns.
Stepping across the courtyard with urgency—and dust on his armour—is Yu Jingchen, commander of the palace guard.
Lin Zian's expression softens—just a fraction—as Yu Jingchen smiles.
The commander's aura feels sharper, more refined, almost… expanded.
A sign of a breakthrough.
Lin Zian narrows his eyes slightly.
"You're out here at such an ungodly hour, Lord Yu," he says with quiet irony. "Shouldn't you be sleeping—or celebrating whatever happened last night?"
Yu Jingchen gives a short laugh.
"I could ask you the same."
Lin Zian rests the sheathed sword against his shoulder. "I'm trying to complete the Seven Light Sword Technique."
Yu Jingchen studies him in silence—eyes passing over Lin Zian's blade, posture, aura.
Then he sighs—not unkindly.
"Lin Zian," he says low, "your true qi is already transformed into a dark element. And you've reached the Ultimate Master Realm. You should start the Wizard Way. A polar opposite sword technique will not take you further."
There is no mockery in the tone—only genuine advice.
And Lin Zian knows he's right.
He knows.
Yet—his heart refuses.
A helpless smile tugs at his mouth.
Yu Jingchen recognises that stubbornness—and chuckles.
"You're wasting years on a dead end," he says, half amused, half exasperated. Then, with a casual lift of his hand, a ripple spreads through the air.
A wave of mana.
Refined.
Stable.
Lin Zian's eyes widen.
"You—"
Yu Jingchen grins.
"I've become an Official Wizard."
Lin Zian stiffens.
Already?
He knew Yu Jingchen was talented—reaching the Ultimate Martial Realm before fifty proved that.
But creating a Bronze-grade Meditation Technique in less than ten days…
That wasn't talent.
That was genius.
Lin Zian lowers his gaze—a brief silence stretches between them.
Thinking.
Weighing.
His sword technique.
His darkness.
His path.
Then—slowly—he lifts his head with a faint smile.
"Congratulations, Lord Yu. Today, you'll be famous—not the first, but the third person in the capital to create a meditation technique."
Yu Xingchen blinks in mild surprise, then laughs.
Lin Zian continues, ticking names off in his mind:
"The first was Chief Tang Luyan. The second: Sect Master Meng Haoran of the Heart Ape Sect.
And now you."
Yu Xingchen raises a hand as if waving the praise away.
"That achievement isn't mine alone."
Lin Zian tilts his head. "Oh?"
Yu Xingchen explains, voice calm:
"For coordinated combat, all palace guards cultivate Golden Body Martial Arts. So the meditation technique was created by every guard together, using our shared foundation."
Lin Zian's eyes widen—not from disappointment, but realisation.
"…I see."
He smiles—genuine this time.
"Even so, it's impressive. And among all the guards, you were the first to successfully become an Official Wizard. That counts for something."
Yu Xingchen gives a satisfied grin.
They share no more words—each returning to their own training.
Lin Zian resumes his sword practice, rainbow arcs tearing through the morning mist.
Across the yard, Yu Xingchen forms golden condensed bullets, mana swirling around his fingertips. With a sharp gesture—
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM
The bullets fire like arrows, shredding a row of metal training pillars with surgical precision.
Lin Zian pauses to watch.
A new world, he thinks.
A new kind of power.
When his session ends, he sheaths his sword and begins walking away.
Just as he steps past the edge of the training ground—
Yu Xingchen calls out:
"Lin Zian."
Lin Zian stops. Turns.
Yu Xingchen narrows his gaze, voice steady.
"A ruin was discovered on the northern border of the Shi Kingdom. Qi refiners and martial artists are gathering there. If the last part of the Seven Light Sword Technique exists anywhere, it will be there."
A pulse runs through Lin Zian's chest.
Hope.
Purpose.
Destiny.
He nods once—firm.
"Thank you."
Then he turns and walks away, the first rays of morning catching on his blade—reflecting five colours of the rainbow.
Two missing.
Still waiting.
But now—maybe within reach.
—
Later, at noon, Lin Zian seeks out the one person who must hear his decision before he leaves the capital.
He enters the royal garden quietly.
Li Xueyao sits beneath a blooming magnolia, sunlight catching the jade hairpin in her hair as she reviews documents. Meilin stands behind her like a shadow—bow on her back, vigilance in her eyes.
Li Xueyao looks up first, her expression softening.
"Lin Zian, you're here. Come, sit."
Her tone is warmer than protocol requires—because few in the capital are closer to Kong Wuya than Lin Zian.
He approaches and bows lightly before sitting.
"Thank you, Princess."
Before Li Xueyao can speak, Meilin clicks her tongue and corrects him:
"It's not 'Princess' anymore. It's Her Majesty the Queen."
Lin Zian isn't surprised.
Of course, she would ascend.
With Kong Wuya by her side, not even the heavens could stop it.
He rises from his seat, places a hand over his heart, and bows more deeply.
"Then allow me to say this properly—"
His voice steadies.
"Congratulations, Your Majesty."
Li Xueyao lets out a helpless laugh, shaking her head.
"I'm still a princess, technically."
She sets her brush down and meets his eyes.
"The coronation is in one month."
A breeze moves through the magnolia leaves.
Lin Zian nods, expression calm—but something in his gaze sharpens.
Because soon, he will not be here.
Li Xueyao studies him quietly for a moment before asking, "Lin Zian, why are you here—shouldn't you be cultivating at this hour?"
Lin Zian's eyes flicker with hesitation, then steady with quiet resolve.
The time has come.
He followed her all these years because she protected his sister—because loyalty demanded it—but now she no longer needs a sword at her side.
She is about to become Queen.
And her husband… is one of the strongest existences in the world.
With Kong Wuya beside her, no one—not martial artist, not Qi refiner, not sect or hidden clan—would dare touch her.
So the duty binding him has ended.
And another path—one tied to blood and a sister lost—waits ahead.
He bows slightly.
"Your Majesty… I wish to depart."
Li Xueyao stills, her expression softening with something between melancholy and acceptance.
"I knew you would leave one day," she murmurs, "but I didn't expect that day to be so soon."
Lin Zian remains silent and simply nods.
She breathes out slowly.
"When will you go?"
He considers, then answers softly:
"Tomorrow morning."
Li Xueyao gives a faint, rueful smile.
"You won't even stay for my coronation."
Lin Zian shakes his head, though there is warmth in his gaze.
"When I return, I will bring a gift worthy of a Queen."
Li Xueyao closes her eyes briefly, then opens them with quiet strength.
"Then I will wait."
Lin Zian bows one last time before taking his leave.
Later, alone in his room, he sits cross-legged and begins cultivating the Crow Meditation Technique—dark runes flickering in his spirit space, forming the outline of a great black-winged form.
More than half of the runes are complete.
He pauses, thoughtful.
This cultivation method feels too similar to the Wizard system.
If so… then the one who gave it to him was connected to Lord Kong.
But Kong Wuya never acknowledged knowing him—never once hinted at recognition.
If it wasn't Kong Wuya, then someone close to him must have forged the Crow Technique as its prototype.
The thought lingers, unanswered.
He closes his eyes and continues cultivating until dawn.
And the next morning, without fanfare or escort, Lin Zian rides out of the capital—his figure vanishing along the long road toward Chen Kingdom.
From there, he will cross the eastern marsh, travel through Ren Kingdom, and finally enter the northern border of Shi Kingdom—where ruins wait… and perhaps the missing pieces of his fate.
As Lin Zian disappears beyond the horizon, far behind him, inside a quiet cultivation chamber, Kaelan sits healing—twelve Qi currents revolving clockwise behind him like twelve silent moons.
END.