The man atop the paper crane glided across the furious battlefield with impossible grace, a stark, tranquil contrast to the chaos below.

  That crane was, without question, a top-tier magical tool. Bai Ning remembered dabbling in origami as a child, when a sect member assigned to look after her had taught her how to fold paper into shapes. Even with that limited experience, she could discern at a glance that this crane was the product of a true master's craft. Its lines were impossibly crisp, with not a single accidental crease or unsymmetrical fold marring its silvery-white perfection.

  More than that, it’s speed and beauty were also top notch. She doubted the man had refined it himself; the bandits aesthetic seemed to revolve around using bones and some sort of blood based qi, and the crane was a harmonious blend of white and silver. Likely, it was a trophy taken from one of the bandits’ many victims.

  Bai Ning had the rare luxury of observation because Jin Rou was holding their defense. Another concussive blast of thick, red qi slammed against the barrier of his aerial shuttle, and her curiosity, momentarily greater than her desire not to talk to him, won out. The shuttle was as much a mystery as the crane, unlike anything she had ever seen.

  “Fellow Daoist, what is your shuttle made of?” she called out, raising her voice over the thunderous roar of battle and the ceaseless, crashing deep-sea waves below. “I thought it was spiritual wood at first, but now I suspect something far rarer.”

  Around them, a dozen skirmishes raged simultaneously, though, of course, the largest fight of them all was directly above their heads. It was why their opponent was circling cautiously, instead of rising higher and swooping down on them from above, taking advantage of his greater speed. He was unwilling to risk it. A single reckless pass could draw him into a battle involving a Gu and four Core Formation cultivators, a misstep that would spell certain, instant death.

  As she spoke, a violent flash of purifying white tore across the sky. Bai Ning couldn’t fully process what had struck, but a raw, visible tear appeared in the cosmic bubble’s membrane. Incandescent white light poured in through the still-knitting wound. Seconds later, the world itself seemed to tremble in pain.

  Inside the bubble, the sensation was a mere vibration, but beyond it, the seabed groaned and heaved like a dying behemoth. Waves were momentarily forced aside, only to return with tidal-wave force, as a blinding pillar of white light consumed the horizon. She felt the raw, untamed qi of the distant strike vibrating through the very air.

  For a moment, the entire battlefield paused. Even their opponent ducked, eyes wide with alarm. Bai Ning and Jin Rou watched in silent awe as the last tremors faded and the terrible chaos settled.

  Just one move, from the battle raging above their heads. She almost shivered with a mix of fear and reverence. That was the pinnacle she aspired to; one day, she would stand on even ground with cultivators of this caliber, and go even beyond.

  Finally, Jin Rou tore his eyes away from the slowly mending hole in the sky. His prior cockiness was noticeably muted. “Dragon bone,” he explained, his voice low. “My grandfather found a corpse of one in his youth and refined quite a few tools and treasures from it before selling the rest. This shuttle is one of them, though, of course, the mightiest of them all is…” His gaze flicked upward toward the battle, where his father fought alongside her master and the others.

  Bai Ning didn’t need him to finish.

  Dragon bone. She had never seen it, or, more accurately, never seen it in this quantity. Fan Mei owned a delicate smoking pipe made of the material, which she had shown Bai Ning years ago. A pipe Bai NIng had declared a colossal, unforgivable waste of rare material.

  She still believed it. Who would use something so legendary just to smoke a few herbs? Fan Mei had merely looked amused, and her master had only shaken his head in exasperation, but the meeting had ended shortly after that, allowing Bai Ning to claim the moral high ground.

  “Is that what gives it its unyielding durability?” she asked, genuinely curious, as another thick, crimson beam of light struck the shuttle’s barrier, fracturing into decaying daughter beams that harmlessly careened away.

  Jin Rou’s face brightened, likely pleased that she had finally engaged him instead of avoiding his presence altogether. “Precisely,” he said. “Anything from a true dragon is priceless. Scales, bones, claws, fangs – they’re treasures beyond measure. Back on Blackrock Island, in my family’s deepest vaults, we keep daggers made from dragon claws, a sword carved from a single dragon fang… even a few scales from near its heart. Though I’d have to check if any remain.”

  “You can come with me, Bai Ning. I’d be glad to show you the wonders of my house. Though, of course, all those treasures undoubtedly pale in comparison to your beauty.” He offered a roughish, self-satisfied smile.

  Bai Ning’s expression flattened. What was wrong with this man? She instantly regretted giving in to her curiosity.

  Ignoring him, and their opponent, who had finally given up on long-distance attacks and was now attempting to batter down their shield with a massive, illusory skull, and shouting, “Remember the name of Kong, the man who will send you to your deaths!” -she focused.

  She had managed it once; now she had to learn to summon that feeling on command. It wasn’t a true understanding, Bai Ning knew; she was borrowing heavily from the embedded memories and raw feelings of the ancient swordmaster stored in her memory jade, but it was a vital workaround until she reached the stage where she could manifest it on her own.

  She sank into that sensation: the absolute certainty that the world was something meant to be cut. The qi of their barrier, the wind whipping past the shuttle, the metallic tang of ozone from the energy beams; it all sharpened her awareness. Her sword was in her hand, the blade a faint, glowing green, and she let her mind trace the edge, the single, perfect line that gave it ultimate purpose.

  And then, she felt it.

  The man attacking them-Kong-was simply too fast for any conventional attack. Jin Rou had attempted a strike, sending a flying needle from above, but it had missed spectacularly. Bai Ning hadn’t even bothered, knowing her speed was inadequate.

  But now, something in her own qi aligned with the motion around her. If her sword was meant to cut through anything, then she had to know where to cut. That was simple, undeniable logic.

  Without conscious thought, her arm swung. A narrow streak of vivid green light sliced through the air, tracing an arc toward an empty point in space.

  Kong streaked past it at the precise moment the swordlight arrived. The blade slammed into his barrier, snapping it with the sharp, brittle sound of shattering glass, a shockwave rattling the air around them. He wavered on his paper crane, the wind tugging at him like a ragdoll, teetering dangerously toward the cliff-side sea before he violently righted himself.

  Jin Rou’s jaw dropped. He tried another needle, but it was far too late. Kong had recovered, darting off again, faster and more erratic this time, a blur against the storm-tossed sky.

  Bai Ning exhaled slowly through her nose, grounding herself. That strike had been too hasty. The alignment had been slightly off; a perfect swing, the kind the swordmaster was capable of, would have split Kong in two. She had to be sharper next time.

  Jin Rou turned, eyes wide with genuine shock. “How did you do that? You knew where he would be before he even got there. Do you possess some sort of powerful divination tool from your master?”

  Bai Ning shook her head, forcing the fleeting, elusive feeling to return. “Never mind that. Just keep him off my back, and I’ll handle the offense.”

  He opened his mouth, likely to argue, then closed it with a firm, decisive nod. He turned to scan the world outside the shuttle’s barrier, his eyes alert and focused. “Have no fear, Fairy. No one will harm you as long as I, Jin Rou, draw breath.”

  Ugh. She wanted to roll her eyes, but the air thrummed with a renewed danger, the taste of salt and ozone sharper on her tongue. Instead, she closed her eyes, letting the swordmaster’s memories flood her awareness. She felt the hum of the blade, the pull of the world around it, and the precise, unavoidable path her strike must take. She didn’t need to see Kong to know where he would go. She only had to feel the future moment of the cut.

  The world sharpened once more. She couldn’t track him conventionally, but imperceptibly, the tip of her sword rose, as if tracing his unseen movements. She knew.

  A feint from the back – he was treating them with a newfound, cautious wariness, followed by a direct, frontal strike. He would pour everything he had into it, aiming to shatter their barrier and end them instantly.

  She inhaled, perfectly steady.

  Jin Rou swore as Kong abruptly appeared behind them, a massive beam of vivid, bloody red light erupting from the skull and slamming into the shuttle’s barrier. The impact reverberated through the boat like a physical punch, the air quivering with the raw force of his qi. Bai Ning didn’t flinch.

  As Jin Rou countered, Kong vanished, and Bai Ning struck. Her sword moved in a flat, horizontal arc, the blade tracing a hair-thin, almost translucent line of green light. It was ephemeral, barely more than a whisper of a strike, but it carried the inevitability of the swordmaster’s memory, the absolute authority of a blade that knew the world’s weak points.

  It was the closest she had come till now to the effortless strikes she had seen in the swordmaster’s memories. When he swung, nothing seemed to leave the blade. Whatever he targeted simply… split apart. Simple as that.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Kong reappeared in front of them, the skull in his hand glowing a vivid, murderous crimson, a victorious smile already stretching across his lips. Then her swordlight met him. He continued forward another meter before the smile vanished completely. A thin, precise line of blood appeared along his throat. The next instant, his head flew clean off his shoulders.

  Bai Ning exhaled and opened her eyes.

  Kong’s corpse pitched into the churning waves below. The paper crane beneath him shrank back to its normal, paper size, drifting listlessly on the wind. Bai Ning lifted a clawed hand, catching it with her qi and drawing it toward her. A top-notch magical artifact was far too valuable to waste.

  Jin Rou watched, his mouth slightly agape, a flash of undeniable envy flickering in his eyes as the crane vanished into her storage pouch.

  “That was-” he began, but a sound erupted that swallowed his words, throwing them both to their knees for a heartbeat. It was a roar of iron denting, deep and resonant, like the gates of some ancient fortress collapsing, followed by a shriek of twisting, stressed metal, echoing over itself.

  Bai Ning’s heart thundered in her chest, her pulse a drumbeat of raw, paralyzing fear. She lifted her gaze, and the sight stole her breath. The massive, cobalt-blue Heaven Enshrouding Ding hung suspended in the air for a moment, one side smashed violently inward as though some colossal, invisible serpent had collided with it. The impact detonated in a storm of silvery lightning, tendrils arcing and lancing across the inner curvature of the cosmic bubble, leaving scorched, smoking trails in their wake.

  The next instant, the Ding exploded outward like a ship torn from its moorings by a tsunami, tearing a gaping, ragged wound in the wall of the bubble and vanishing into the sky beyond, leaving only the ringing echo of its destruction in their ears.

  Fear and disbelief rooted Bai Ning to the spot. No… this couldn’t be happening.

  Before she could even process it, her body began to drift upward, pulled by some invisible, magnetic force. Panic flared, but a firm, heavy hand seized her wrist, yanking her down with brutal force.

  She spun, fury and terror flashing across her face, but Jin Rou’s expression mirrored her own alarm, stripped of all bravado.

  “Don’t be a fool,” he said, voice taut. “He’s a Core Formation cultivator. He’ll be fine. But if you go up there, you’ll die without question.”

  Bai Ning snatched her hand free, twisting again to look skyward. The other three Core Formation cultivators had reformed their ranks, converging into a desperate, unified front. No… her master had to be alright. She had never seen him truly cornered.

  And yet the shattered Ding and the ragged hole it left behind made her conviction feel like a lie.

  She wanted to fly after him. If she could catch up, then…

  Then what?

  The question hit her like a stone. How could she ever hope to find him, let alone keep pace with a Core Formation cultivator who had just been hurled across the sea? Even if she did, what could she contribute? Master Mo Jian carried more healing pills in his pocket than she had ever seen in her entire life.

  If she left, she would do nothing but stumble blindly, a liability waiting to get herself into real danger.

  No. Jin Rou was right. As much as it grated, she had to admit it: her master could handle himself.

  The thought did nothing to steady her. Her mind spiraled; fear, panic, icy anxiety all clashing in a stuttering loop. He has to be fine. He has to be.

  A shrill cry tore through her shock. Her gaze snapped downward to see one of the Foundation Establishment cultivators from her group nearly pitch into the roiling waters.

  Jin Rou caught her eye, wary. When he saw she wasn’t about to do anything reckless, he nodded and turned his shuttle toward the fight. Bai Ning watched him go, stomach tightening with lingering unease.

  She drew in a sharp, controlled breath, forcing her expression back into its usual calm. Right. She could help too. She had two eyes, a sword, and a newly claimed paper crane in her pocket.

  She directed her flying handkerchief toward the nearest immediate fight. It was a bandit wielding a serrated sickle fighting against a female cultivator with a polished bronze mirror. The mirror was a clever tool, releasing bursts of light intended to temporarily freeze the bandit in his tracks, allowing the cultivator to follow up with a concentrated blast of focused light.

  Unfortunately for her, the sickle was a far more complex artifact than it appeared, capable of projecting a spectral warrior, basically a skeletal echo, that was utterly unaffected by the mirror's blinding light. It was a high-stakes, frantic game of cat and mouse between the two, played inches above a churning death trap.

  Her arrival changed everything. Both combatants were early-stage Foundation Establishment; her sudden presence as a mid-stage cultivator would have been decisive alone. But now, Bai Ning’s control over her sword had evolved.

  A single rippling stroke of green swordlight shattered the spectral warrior, slicing through rusted armor and splintered ribs, scattering fragments of bone that dissolved into nothingness. Seizing the opening, the woman swung her mirror again, and the bandit froze. Bai Ning’s second strike finished the fight with surgical precision.

  She landed lightly on a nearby rock, dismissing her flying handkerchief, and watched as the cultivator set the bandit’s corpse ablaze and looted his pouch. The woman’s face was pale, a thin streak of dried blood along her temple, yet she bowed deeply.

  “Thank you for your assistance, Fellow Daoist. Any longer, and that would have ended poorly for me. I am Shi Wei, from Poison Valley Island,” she said with a wry edge. Bai Ning returned a sheepish smile. In truth, they had all introduced themselves before setting out, but Bai Ning hadn’t been paying attention, too preoccupied with avoiding Jin Rou. Apparently, Shi Wei had noticed.

  “No need for thanks. I think most of the fighting is settled, except for the main battle,” Bai Ning replied, sweeping her gaze across the battlefield. She couldn’t tell how the fight against the Gu Master was progressing, but the Black Sail Bandits were all but finished.

  Shi Wei nodded, though she glanced upward with caution before averting her gaze. “I can’t imagine them losing,” she admitted. “I’ve never met Island Master Chi Shen, but his strength is renowned. Surely they must be close to victory.”

  Bai Ning pursed her lips. The image of the Heaven Enshrouding Ding, damaged, torn, and blasted away, still lingered in her mind. She forced a smile. “Agreed. Shall we regroup on the ship? The others will likely gather there-”

  Her words died in her throat. A subtle tug at her senses froze her in place. She scanned the battlefield sharply, but the signal wasn’t external. It came from within, an echo of something unfamiliar yet insistent, tugging at her awareness.

  “Fellow Daoist?” Shi Wei asked, alarmed at Bai Ning’s sudden tension, but Bai Ning waved her off.

  “Don’t mind me. Go ahead to the ship. I’ll join you shortly.”

  Shi Wei hesitated, clearly wanting to press further, but in the cultivation world, strength spoke loudest. Bai Ning’s cultivation was higher, even if only by one stage. After a respectful bow, Shi Wei turned and departed.

  Bai Ning was already not paying attention. The sensation had returned, stronger this time.

  Frowning, she reached for her flying handkerchief, but paused. Instead, she drew out the paper crane from her pouch. It rested in her palm, a delicate, intricate fold of spirit-infused paper. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it into the air and poured in her qi. The crane expanded instantly, unfolding until it was large enough to carry her.

  She leapt onto its back, balancing at the junction of neck and body, and shot skyward. The ascent was smooth and effortless, wind whipping past her face. Compared to previous flight tools, this felt like gliding through silk. Despite the grimness of the moment, a small smile tugged at her lips. She wanted to whoop aloud.

  When she reached sufficient height, she slowed and focused. The strange tug persisted, faint but insistent. Below, jagged rocks once home to Black Sail Bandits’ makeshift dwellings jutted from the sea. Waves smashed against them in furious white froth. Only two fights still raged: Jin Rou, aiding another cultivator against a pair of bandits, and further off, a lone bandit barely holding his own against an unseen opponent.

  Her attention lingered on that invisible cultivator for a heartbeat before she forced herself onward. None of it explained what she was sensing. The feeling was like danger, but diffuse and unfocused, as if seeping through the air itself.

  She closed her eyes and reached inward, trying to find that elusive state again. Precious seconds passed before her mind steadied.

  The world sharpened and, at the same time, dimmed. Shadows crept in from the edges of her sight, the colors of the sea and sky leeching away until everything seemed cast in deep glassy darkness. The rocks, the waves, the battles below, it all muted. Yet within that darkened vision, she saw spots of deeper blackness, countless pinpricks of shadow crawling across the world.

  They moved like ants made of ink, scurrying toward a single point: a shack perched on one of the outlying rocks. Completely unremarkable, it would have escaped her notice entirely, had the shadows not been converging upon it.

  Bai Ning hesitated only a moment before urging the crane forward. It carried her swiftly to the rock, wings folding as she landed lightly before the shack. Activating her copper shield, she advanced cautiously inside.

  The interior was bare, with four walls, a patched roof, and nothing else. Yet at its center, a faint red glow had begun to bloom. The dark specks she had seen were gathering there, streaming into the center like water down a drain. As they merged, the red deepened, bright crimson turning to blood-dark scarlet.

  The glow began to swell, shifting from a sphere to an oblong shape, then lengthening into something almost human. Limbs formed first, then a torso, and finally a head.

  When the transformation finished, a man stood in the center of the shack. Thin and austere, his hair neatly parted, he wore the reserved air of a scholar.

  Bai Ning pressed herself deeper into the doorway and crouched, making herself as small as she could. It wasn’t his cultivation level that alarmed her, though his peak Foundation Establishment refinement was deeper than Kong’s, it was something else: an instinctive certainty that he was dangerous.

  For a moment he looked disoriented, then comprehension flickered across his face. “A failure, huh? What a waste. I’ll have to start over elsewhere. Try another combination…maybe feed it less?” He muttered to himself like a distracted academic taking notes. Bai Ning’s stomach tightened.

  Should she risk signaling Jin Rou and the others? The thought barely formed when the man turned sharply. She flattened herself harder, but his eyes slid to her hiding place as if drawn by a thread.

  “Come out,” he said coldly. “Who’s there?”

  Bai Ning’s mind raced. Then a flash of inspiration struck. She released the paper crane from her storage pouch. It drifted out obediently, bobbing into the room like an innocent toy.

  The man froze, puzzled. “Kong? You survived? Well-congratulations, I suppose. But what are you doing here? I don’t recall telling you about my plans.”

  Her pulse thundered in her ears. Now.

  Bai Ning inhaled, then abandoned finesse for speed. There would be no slow sword technique now; she would have to buy time with raw qi. A massive swordlight burst from her hiding spot; a crescent of green energy that tore the air and slammed toward him. It struck before he could fully react. He threw up a hand, and a corroded iron shield materialized, the blade of light slamming into it with a thunderous crash. The impact hurled him backward, slamming him into the far wall in a spray of dust and splinters.

  She didn’t wait. Calling the crane to her, she turned to flee-

  -and froze.

  Her body refused to obey. Every muscle locked; even her qi was bound, solidified within her meridians like ice. She could only breathe and blink.

  The sound of shuffling footsteps approached from behind. Slowly, the man came into view, brushing dust from his robes as if nothing had happened. The iron shield hung in two cracked halves from his hand before he discarded it without a glance.

  “So,” he said, studying her with mild curiosity, “Kong really did die. A pity. He was useful, for what he was.” His tone shifted, almost conversational. “You nearly caught me off guard.”

  He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “But this is inconvenient. I had planned to leave quietly, but now I can’t have you running your mouth. If those four find out I survived…” He shook his head lightly. “No, I’ll have to kill you.”

  The fear that had been building in Bai Ning snapped into sharp focus. His words, his very air, confirmed what her instincts had already whispered. He was the Gu master.

  He saw the recognition in her eyes and smiled faintly. “Ah. So, you’ve realized it.” He dipped his head slightly, like a polite scholar introducing himself at a tea gathering. “I am Hua Duzi. Now, it is time for you to die.”