Pain.
It arrived first, sharp and unrelenting, blooming like a jagged star at the base of Ruyan's skull and radiating outward in icy cracks that seemed to splinter her very consciousness.
The world dragged her back with the cold precision of a tide that did not forgive. Her limbs felt alien—numb, weighted, stripped of warmth and life. She lifted her arms instinctively, cupping her throbbing head, fingers trembling.
CLANG.
Metal snapped taut above her.
Ruyan froze.
Her wrists were bound in cold iron, suspended from a ceiling that seemed to vanish into darkness. The cuffs bit into her skin, drawing blood that seeped slowly along her forearms. A faint, sinister hum of spiritual energy pulsed through the chains—binding, silencing, nullifying every thread of her cultivation. Panic clawed at her chest, hot and suffocating.
Her gaze dropped to her belt. Relief shot through her in a sudden, dizzying surge.
Jinri. Still there. Still safe. Encased in his delicate ornament form, his faint glow a fragile reminder that she was not entirely alone.
She exhaled shakily. Good. Good… he's safe.
Then she looked up—and her heart froze.
This was no ordinary cell. Not the Execution Hall's lower floors, not the chambers she had infiltrated countless times under borrowed faces and forged identities. This chamber was ancient. Hollow. Carved from stone that drank light instead of reflecting it. No windows. No doors. No escape. Only four braziers trembling faintly in the shadows.
The air was cold enough to seep into her bones. Silent, oppressive, wrong.
Her pulse thundered violently.
This isn't the Execution Hall I know.
Her breath shook. Her hands twisted the chains instinctively. No mortal or immortal should ever reach this depth. Not alone. Not unbidden.
"Jinri," she whispered.
A soft glow appeared. The tiny human form of her Sun Fox companion materialized, trembling. He launched himself at her, trying to hug her despite the cruel restraint of the chains.
"Ryu!" he sobbed. "I—I was so scared. I tried… I couldn't—Ryu, I'm sorry—"
"Shh." She pressed her forehead against his. "It's alright. I know. I'm just glad you're safe."
Sun Foxes were survivors, not fighters. Jinri's fear was instinctive, raw, pure. She held him gently, though the chains tore against her wrists, the only warmth in the room a brief, fragile comfort.
Then—
Keys.
Slow. Deliberate.
Her heart dropped like a stone into icy water.
"Quick." Her voice trembled. "Hide."
Jinri transformed back into his ornament form instantly.
A shadow flickered at the edge of torchlight.
And then—
He stepped into view.
Yushen.
Tall, lean, unhurried. Every movement carried the gravity of someone who commanded the darkness instead of fearing it. In his hand, the trinket she had stolen swung lazily between two fingers. His presence bent the very air, cold and lethal.
Ruyan's mind short-circuited. This couldn't be Li Mozhi. The fledgling immortal she had expected—timid, unassuming, barely more than a shadow—was nowhere here. Instead… standing before her was Lord Yushen himself, the Executioner of the Four Realms.
How blind, how recklessly stupid, had I been not to notice the warning signs?
"My lord—" she whispered, voice trembling. "Please… spare me. I—I'm nothing but a nameless thief. I only saw your trinket in the alley. My brother—he's dying in the mortal realm. His spiritual core is weak. I needed the money—"
Tears slid down her cheeks with agonizing precision, her voice cracking just enough to lend credibility. She wore a borrowed face, one that no immortal could trace back to her. Yet she gambled on his past—on the mortal child enslaved, beaten, discarded, who had clawed his way through suffering and blood to become the youngest ascendant in history.
If anyone could recognize hardship… it would be him.
Yushen crouched slowly, eyes sharp, unreadable. She could feel the frost of his breath against her cheek.
"You saw this in the alley? How did you know the trinket was mine then?" he asked softly.
Ruyan's heart lurched. I'm an Idiot.
"I—I didn't know it was you, my lord. I mistook you for another. I was only hired to make Li Mhozi cancel his engagement to Feng Ningyun."
Her half-truth was all she had. Another lie, another deceit, and her head would roll.
Yushen's eyes glinted with something beyond curiosity. A faint, predatory smile touched his lips.
"Oh?" he said. "Is that the truth?"
She nodded desperately.
"Then you won't mind if I confirm your claim through my own… methods."
The chains rattled violently as she jerked back. Her breath hitched audibly.
Yushen's lips curled. "How… adorable."
For a fraction of a second, she glimpsed it—not kindness, not cruelty, but hunger. The hunger of a man who had lived too long, who found fascination only when blood, secrets, and fear intersected.
He stepped closer. The Execution Hall's infamous technique—the Soul Inquiry. A forbidden method revived only under his authority: a technique that compelled truth while inflicting sharp, piercing pain, the kind that fractured both spirit and mind.
Ruyan's mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Yushen's voice was silk and steel. "So… how did you do it?"
"I'm… just good at stealing," she whispered.
He blinked, faint frown of disbelief forming.
"…What?"
"Last night," he said slowly, voice like frost, "you used a Space Transfer technique. How?"
Her chest froze. She could not expose Jinri. She would die first.
"I… I'm good at magic," she said, voice weak, faltering.
"That," he said flatly, "is your explanation?"
She nodded.
His gaze darkened. "Your face. How did you change it?"
Her heart trembled. Her illusion—a masterpiece layered with subtlety even high immortals struggled to pierce—is now being exposed
"An illusion spell," she whispered.
He circled her, predator slow and deliberate. "Lost magic, huh."
"And your cultivation?"
"Nascent Soul," she admitted, voice shamefully small.
Yushen's smile was cold, sharp. He extended a hand, spiritual energy surging like ice through her core, searching, probing. She gasped, body convulsing under the pressure. He withdrew it, almost curious.
"A thief at Nascent Soul who can wield Spatial Transfer techniques and lost magic…" he murmured. "That's… unprecedented."
He leaned closer, eyes scanning her borrowed face. "Is this your true face?"
She nodded. Harmless. Plain. Forgettable. Yet he did not trust it.
His gaze fell on the golden trinket. "Let's keep this short and simple. Which of the Four Great Clans sent you to steal this?"
Ruyan's stomach dropped. "I—I wasn't hired to steal it! I was hired to impersonate Feng Ningyun! I… thought it would sell well. I didn't know it was important!"
Yushen tilted his head. "I never said it was important."
She swallowed hard. He was baiting her. Setting traps, knowing she had nowhere to run.
"You're rich, my lord," she blurted. "Everyone knows money isn't an issue. Yet you risked all this—tracking me, capturing me—for a mere trinket. Only a fool would think it's unimportant."
He paused, eyes narrowing as if weighing her very soul. Slowly, he nodded. "Fair enough. Tell me—your core is at Nascent Soul, which should render Spatial Transfer nearly impossible. Yet you wield lost magic as if taught by a High Immortal. Only a fool wouldn't be suspicious. How do you explain that?"
Ruyan swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady despite the panic curling in her chest. "You… checked my core, my lord. I could not dare lie to you. I don't fully understand how I managed these feats myself, but I did what I had to… to survive."
Yushen raised a brow, inscrutable. Without another word, he turned, his robes brushing the floor. "And you expect freedom simply because you explained yourself?"
"I—" Panic clawed her throat. "I can prove it! The Soul Inquiry spell! The spell that compels truth!"
He smiled knowingly, activating it. A red thread of energy snaked to her forehead. Pain exploded in her skull, yet he watched silently as if savoring it, eyes unreadable.
"Why were you at Moonlit Pavilion last night?"
She screamed through clenched teeth, recounting her deal with Feng Ningyu. Pain scorched her skull as every word passed.
"Why did you steal this?" He held up the golden trinket.
"I… thought it would fetch a high price!" she cried, voice breaking. Pain stabbed her head like molten needles.
He rolled his sleeves, revealing a mark: four serpents coiled around a Solaris Bloom flower."Do you know what this is?"
"N—no," she stammered. His disappointment was palpable.
He released the spell; the pain lingered, burning through her bones as he turned to leave.
Her lip trembled. "You—you promised! I told the truth! You would let me go!"
"When?" he said, still walking. "When did we agree on that arrangement?"
Her eye twitched. Bastard.
"Wait!" she screamed, chains rattling. "Please! I told you everything!"
He did not stop.
Panic surged—Jinri. Jinri. Jinri. If she died here, he would be hunted. Her voice tumbled out before thought could form.
"I can give you what you want!"
Yushen froze, the air thick with the scent of steel and shadow. He turned slightly, one brow raised. "And what is it that I want?"
Her heart thundered, remembering whispers from the pleasure palace of Blossoming Gardens—drunk immortals, careless tongues.
"… The Crimson Curse," she whispered.
Every muscle in his body tensed. Slowly—deliberately—he turned to face her. His eyes burned, not with anger, but with something deeper, older, and heavier than any mortal grief.
"Go on," he said, voice soft and deadly. "Tell me."
She inhaled shakily. "I… know where it came from."
In a single movement, he closed the distance, grabbing her throat, lifting her with effortless strength, chains rattling.
"Lies," he hissed, fury blazing. His memories surged—shadows of a dying village, screams, blood, the roar of a cursed immortal. The night he survived while every child burned.
This is sacred. Untouchable. Dangerous.
She clawed at the chains, voice rasping. "My… memory… I can show you!"
He tightened his grip. "You dare negotiate with me?"
Her vision blurred. Darkness pricked the edges. Beneath his cold exterior, she felt it—wounds, pain, something buried deep in blood and memory.
Desperate, reckless, she slammed her forehead against his.
CRACK.
A memory thread snapped open. Ruined village. Hundreds of corpses. Rot. Shadows. Blight.
Yushen staggered, raw shock cutting through his cold control.
Ruyan sagged, trembling. "I can take you there," she whispered. "If you let me go."
Silence stretched.
And in that silence, Yushen did not see a thief. He saw a key—a reckless immortal who might unlock truths he had hunted for decades.
Finally, he exhaled.
"Very well."
But his gaze was sharp, warning cold enough to match the chains around her wrists.
"One wrong move… and you will regret being born."
Their eyes met—
Hers fierce despite exhaustion.
His cold, dangerous, but burning with something deep and terrible.
A fragile, perilous agreement took shape between them.
One made in shadows.
One bound by blood and secrets.
One that could save her life—
Or end it.