"Get him! Don't let that filth reach the tree line!" The shout tore through the humid air of the White Jade Valley, followed closely by the rhythmic thrum of boots hitting the forest floor. Li Feng didn't look back. He couldn't. Every time he drew a breath, it felt like he was inhaling molten lead. His chest wasn't just burning; it was vibrating with a violent, rhythmic pulse that threatened to crack his ribs from the inside out. 'Move, move, move,' he hissed to himself. 'If they catch you, the whip will be the kindest thing you feel today.' "He's heading for the ravine!" a high-pitched voice screamed from his left. "Sister Chen, cut him off from the ridge! The rest of you, stay on his heels!" Li Feng dove through a thicket of thorn-bushes, the sharp branches clawing at his thin slave tunic and tearing into his skin. He didn't feel the pain. The heat radiating from the center of his chest was so intense it numbed everything else. "How is he this fast?" one of the disciples yelle

"Who are you?" Li Feng yelled, his voice bouncing off the jagged remains of the obsidian doors. The silhouette didn't answer. It wobbled, then slumped forward, hitting the stone floor with a dull thud that echoed through the vast cavern. "Wait," Li Feng whispered, his heart hammered against his ribs. "Is she... dead?" "Not dead. Not yet," the voice in his head replied, sounding more alert than before. "But the cold of the tomb has settled into her marrow. Look at her chest, boy. Look at the shadows." Li Feng crept forward. The golden glow radiating from his own skin served as a torch, cutting through the thick, ancient dust. He knelt beside her. She was young, perhaps only a few years older than himself, dressed in midnight-black silks that seemed to absorb the light. Her face was pale, almost translucent, and a strange, bluish frost was creeping up her neck. "She's a woman," Li Feng noted, his breath hitching. "A cultivator from one of the sects?" "A daughter of the moon," the

"Don't you dare, you idiot!" Ying Yue hissed, her hand slamming against Li Feng's chest with the force of a hammer. The golden light that had been about to erupt from his ribs flickered, then swirled violently as Ying Yue's violet Qi crashed into it. She didn't try to extinguish the fire; she tried to wrap it. Her fingers moved in a blur, tracing forbidden runes in the air that hummed with a dark, oily resonance. "What are you doing?" Li Feng gasped, the pressure in his lungs feeling like a lead weight. "Saving your life and mine," she snapped. "If you flare that sun here, Elder Mei will turn this mountain into a tomb. Now hold still and let the shadows take you." The violet energy turned into a murky, grey mist that clung to Li Feng's skin. He watched in horror as his golden aura was sucked inward, compressed, and hidden behind a veil of artificial filth. His skin, once glowing with health, took on the sickly, sallow grey of a man who hadn't seen the sun in years. His muscles see

"Don't do it!" Ying Yue screamed, her voice a sharp whip crack that echoed through the narrow alleyway.She lunged forward, her palm slamming against Li Feng’s chest with desperate force, physically shoving his hand down. The golden light that had begun to seep through his skin was abruptly smothered by a veil of her violet Qi. She spun around to face the scavengers, her eyes burning with a lethal lavender hue."Back off, you vultures!" she roared, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade. "Do you want to explain to the Black Market why you're harassing a Raven Pavilion agent in the middle of the street?"The woman with the jagged scar faltered. She looked at Ying Yue’s high-quality silks, then at the grey, sallow-looking male standing behind her. "A Pavilion agent? Carrying a stray? That’s a bold claim, little girl.""Believe it or not," Ying Yue hissed, her voice dropping to a dangerous, predatory whisper. "But if you don't clear this alley in three seconds, I'll carve the proof of

The blinding white silhouette at the top of the gallery didn't move. She stood like a marble statue carved from moonlight, her presence sucking the oxygen out of the room. Behind her, a dozen armored sisters of the Holy Light stood with their hands on their hilts, their auras radiating a cold, clinical judgment. "Captain Zhao," the woman in the center said. Her voice was soft, like silk sliding over a blade, but it cut through the murmurs of the mercenaries instantly. "I believe you heard me. The Iron Rose is now under divine audit." Captain Zhao didn't flinch. She stepped in front of Li Feng, her massive broadsword still sheathed but her hand resting heavily on the pommel. "Saintess Lin Yue. To what do we owe the honor? I didn't think the Holy Light bothered with the smells of the Black Market." Lin Yue stepped forward, her white boots silent on the stone stairs. As she descended, the flickering torches in the hall seemed to brighten, then turn a pale, ghostly silver. She was beau