Agustiana’s movement was fluid, an elegant sweep of white silk that masked the sheer, jagged cruelty of the steel. Ronald, the man who had bent the elements to his will and rewritten the laws of Qi, stood paralyzed. It wasn't that his reflexes had dulled, it was that his soul refused to process the impossibility of her action. His consciousness, a vast ocean of disciplined energy, had left its gates wide open for her. He hadn’t just lowered his guard; he had dismantled his defenses piece by piece, brick by brick, because he thought he was building a home for the both of them.The dagger, a relic of shadow iron and ancient, hunger-driven runes, met his chest with a sickening, wet crunch. Time seemed to stutter. The ambient Qi the very essence he had cultivated to godhood suddenly turned against him. Usually, it acted as a loyal tide, swirling around his vital organs to reinforce his skin against any assault. But the moment the blade pierced his heart, the runes inscribed upon its leng

The air in the cell remained unnaturally still, the dust motes suspended like frozen stars in the dim, subterranean gloom. Ronald or the soul that once answered to that name clung to the uneven stone floor, his fingers white knuckled against the grime. The memory of the dagger, that cold, abyssal bite in his heart, was still clawing at his nerves, a phantom sensation that made his lungs scream for air he couldn’t seem to pull into this pathetic, hollow chest.He blinked, the movement feeling heavy, sluggish. His vision swam with static, the edges of his sight blurring into shades of grey. He stared into the stagnant puddle near the door, watching his own reflection. The boy in the water was nothing more than a ghost of a disciple sunken cheeks, a jagged, crusty gash running across a temple, and skin the color of curdled milk. But the eyes. Those eyes were a violent, piercing contrast to the wreckage of the face. They were the eyes of a man who had commanded the very fabric of existenc

The golden spark didn't just illuminate the room; it screamed. It wasn’t a sound audible to the ears of the common disciples patrolling the corridors outside, but a high-frequency vibration that rattled the very marrow of Ronald’s bones. The shadows that had begun to stretch across the damp walls of the cell didn’t just lengthen they wept, warping into the silhouettes of burning spires and gargantuan statues that had been scrubbed from the collective consciousness of this era.Ronald’s breath hitched. The air in the cell, previously thin and stagnant, suddenly became thick, heavy with the metallic tang of ozone. His body, a fragile, malnourished vessel that had been beaten black and blue only hours prior, buckled under the sudden influx of atmospheric pressure. Control, he commanded himself, his internal voice cold and detached, a remnant of the godhood he had once possessed. The vessel is trash, but the intent remains absolute.He collapsed against the cold, uneven stones of the flo

The Steward no longer bowed. His back, usually curved, was now bolt upright, as stiff as a gallows pole. The sword in his hand was steady, its red tip pointing directly at Li Wei's Adam's apple. There was no trembling, no hesitation."How much is my head worth, Uncle?" Li Wei's voice broke, his throat as dry as if he had swallowed sand.The old man did not answer. His smirk widened, revealing black stains between his teeth from the residue of soul-strengthening poison. Around them, the rhythmic stomp of boots hit the marble. Spears narrowed their field of movement, creating a forest of iron that locked Li Wei and Mei Ling in the center of the hall. The smell of rust and the copper tang of blood filled his nostrils."Don't look into his eyes," Mei Ling whispered. The girl's fingers gripped Li Wei's shoulder, her nails digging deep enough to pierce the fabric of his robe. "He's been hollowed out. He's just a vessel."Wonderful! The Sky Demon crawled along the walls of Li Wei's conscious