Even after those ominous words, Hua Duzi didn’t move to strike her.

  Instead, he took out something from his robes. Bai Ning was frozen in an awkward pose; caught mid-stride, half-turned toward freedom, fingers outstretched to snatch the paper crane that still bobbed tauntingly just inches from her reach. She couldn’t turn her head or crane her neck properly to look sideways.

  All she saw was a flash of dull black as whatever Hua Duzi held appeared, then vanished a heartbeat later. Confusion flickered through her. Was he not going to use it on her?

  Then her qi began to drain. It was faint, almost subtle, the sort of loss she might not have noticed in the chaos of battle. But frozen as she was, even the smallest ebb was glaringly obvious.

  Bai Ning tried to struggle. She tried to move her limbs, summon a spell, extend her spiritual sense, call upon her qi – nothing. She might as well have been carved from stone. She knew of spells that petrified people, but none like this. She was aware, fully conscious, yet utterly locked within her own body. Panic and fear rose, close and sharp, then burned away, leaving only a seething anger behind.

  Could she do anything? She tested her limits again. Blinking, yes, that still worked. Her tongue, too, though her jaw refused to move, trapping her words behind clenched teeth. So, the effect wasn’t absolute; there were gaps in whatever technique or treasure this was.

  Next, she searched for a trace of qi she could still command. If Hua Duzi was draining it, surely it wasn’t entirely frozen. There had to be some way to turn that to her advantage. But no; while her qi still swirled faintly in her dantian, the moment it touched her meridians it slipped beyond her control. She had her qi, but she couldn’t use it.

  Her frustration must have shown, because Hua Duzi chuckled. He stepped into her line of sight, perfectly composed and infuriatingly calm.

  “Don’t bother. This isn’t something anyone can escape from. I would’ve used it on those Core Formation cultivators attacking me… if only one had come. But with four, the Gu was the better option. What a pity.”

  He sighed, less like a man boasting, and more as if lamenting a minor inconvenience; a tiny flaw in an otherwise perfect plan.

  Bai Ning assessed her options. The worry still lingered, but most of her fear was draining away. Yes, she would die if she couldn’t find a way out of this, but the lack of immediacy brought a strange calm. She had been acting recklessly ever since she’d seen Master Mo Jian blasted aside. This – this immobilizing stillness – was like a bucket of cold water thrown in her face. It forced her to think.

  Bai Ning, oh Bai Ning. Enough of panicking like a child, she scolded herself. Time to start acting intelligently.

  So, she ignored her dignity and decided to rely on one of the tried-and-true methods for dealing with “villains”: bait them into a monologue. Master Mo Jian had taught her, and she had seen it for herself too: people like this always craved an audience. Someone to admire their brilliance, their cunning, and their self-proclaimed greatness. It didn’t always work, but Hua Duzi had talked to her, had even given her an “explanation,” no matter how hollow it sounded. He wasn’t as indifferent as he first appeared.

  Besides, if he intended to kill her quietly with whatever forbidden technique this was, then she would do everything in her power to disrupt his rhythm.

  A low, guttural groan escaped her throat. Had she been able to, she would’ve winced in shame. But alas, her face, her body – everything was frozen. This horrid, ghastly sound was the best she could manage.

  Hua Duzi blinked in mild surprise, his nose wrinkling at the ridiculous noise. He didn’t comment, which was perhaps worse.

  Determined not to stop now, Bai Ning forced out another strained sound. It was the kind of noise a ghost might make while trying to sound fearsome, only to find something lodged in its throat; the kind that made you unsure whether to laugh or pity it.

  If I survive this, she thought miserably, my dignity is dead regardless.

  A scholar’s mien he might have, but Hua Duzi was still human in the end.

  “Will you stop that,” he barked, phrased more as a command than a question.

  Bai Ning, ever the contrarian, enthusiastically tried to double the volume. Saliva began pooling in her mouth, utterly beyond her control. If she started drooling on top of everything else, she really would die of shame.

  Hua Duzi had enough. He reached into his robes again and drew out the object he had used earlier. This time, Bai Ning saw it clearly: a shard of dull, black bone. The moment it appeared, the pressure around her head vanished, and she could move it again.

  Bai Ning immediately tried to call on her qi. No luck. It was still sealed inside her meridians. So, splitting her attention, one part frantically searching for a solution, the other maintaining a mask of composure, she flashed Hua Duzi a bright, deliberately disarming smile.

  “Thanks. That was getting a bit stuffy. What is this thing, anyway? I’ve never come across a technique like it.”

  Hua Duzi stared at her in befuddlement for a long moment. “That’s what you were so desperate to ask me? I thought you were just being annoying on purpose, waiting to scream for help the instant I gave you your voice back.” He rolled his eyes, looking more exasperated than wary. “I know you’re trying to stall and figure a way out, but frankly, if it keeps you from making that horrendous noise, I’ll indulge you. This will take some time anyway.”

  Bai Ning felt her cheer deflate slightly at how precisely he’d read her, but she forced herself to keep smiling. Positive thinking, Bai Ning, she reminded herself. That’s the way. Besides, she’d already decided shouting for help was useless, which was why she hadn’t done it. Acting silly didn’t mean forgetting her opponent was actually intelligent.

  Hua Duzi held the shard of black bone up to the light, turning it as if admiring a jewel. “It’s a shard of an immortal’s bone.” He gave her a look that clearly expected disbelief.

  She was, in fact, disbelieving. There was no way this man possessed the bone of an immortal. Normally she would have snapped, “Bullshit,” or demanded, “Impossible, how did you get something like that?”

  But she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she nodded as if it were obvious. “I see. I kind of figured that myself. Bit of a disappointment.” Her tone stayed deliberately cheerful, to underline how unimpressed she was.

  Hua Duzi’s face didn’t change much, but she noticed the faint tightening at the corners of his eyes. Calm under pressure, but not untouched by it. Good to know.

  “If you think something from an immortal is a disappointment, you need to relearn cultivation,” he said, his tone sharpening just a hair. “It took me years to figure out what it was, and years more to actually manage anything with it. Now I can use it to freeze the bones of anyone in range. Even a Nascent Soul cultivator would be helpless, though of course, I’ve never had the chance to test it properly.”

  A flood of questions rose in her mind, but one thought pushed the rest aside: Freeze the bones.

  So that was the mechanism. It explained the rigid limbs, but not her qi being locked. Her bones had been rendered immobile. It also didn’t explain the qi drain, as well.

  Hua Duzi went on. “Pity it only works on one person at a time, and that person becomes hard to injure. It wasn’t meant as a weapon originally, so that makes sense. But the shard can still drain qi and kill in time, so it’s my trump card. I used it on the Gu at first, too, but it grew too strong too fast, and that thing barely had any bones in it to begin with. By now, I doubt it would affect it at all.”

  A dozen questions crowded Bai Ning’s head, but she forced herself to keep sight of her goals: gather information, stall, and escape. As a bonus, both aims could be advanced by irritating the man in front of her.

  “Sounds to me like you just messed up,” she said, sounding insolent on purpose. “Anyone halfway intelligent would have gone for a Baigujing instead of a Gu. If you have a bone-controlling treasure, always go for the monster made out of bone. That’s just common sense.” She lowered her voice into precisely the right level of smug superiority, something she’d been accused of by Master Mo Jian more than once.

  Hua Duzi’s jaw tightened. Exactly as she’d hoped.

  “You have a true gift for being irritating,” he snapped. “I know you are trying to bait me into a mistake, but I can’t ignore such ignorance. A Baigujing isn’t just a bone monster The stage where it is merely an exposed skeleton only lasts briefly, when it’s young and weak. Over time, it absorbs enough essence from the sun and moon to grow flesh, and becomes capable of shapeshifting.” He paused, breath quickening, as his irritation slipped into a fervor to defend his choice and his academic insights.

  “I did my research. I am not some ignorant buffoon. I chose the Gu for a reason. And I haven’t failed yet. Once I get out of here, I’ll take what I learned and make a better Gu.”

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  He seemed to be calming down as he spoke, but Bai Ning’s stomach dropped further with every word. The man was thinking beyond the fight, planning a future that could lead to disaster if he escaped. She had to make sure he didn’t get away alive.

  Thankfully, it was starting to look actually possible. For one, his remark that victims “became harder to injure” explained why he hadn’t tried to dispatch her directly; he was letting the qi drain do the work.

  Second, the drain itself. It was just high enough to outstrip her natural qi regeneration by a little, and that meant that she had a little time. She still couldn’t control any qi that left her dantian, and all that left to her was the qi in it. But what if she started trapping the qi in and not letting it flow into her meridians?

  Well, theoretically speaking, nothing good. That path led to blowing herself up, or just permanently damaging her dantian. Yet, a thought had struck her, both foolish and brilliant at once; and it was likely her only option. Knowing she had little else to pin her hopes on, she put the plan into action.

  She began to swirl qi tightly in her dantian, refusing to let even a wisp leak into her meridians. Each heartbeat produced more qi; she trapped it, letting the reservoir grow. The drain she was experiencing slowed perceptibly, and she watched Hua Duzi for any sign he’d noticed. He didn’t.

  Excellent. Now to keep him talking.

  “So basically,” Bai Ning said, turning the condescension up a notch while keeping her tone helpless enough to discourage a quick end, “you messed up, but it’s all fine because this attempt didn’t count. You’ll run away and start over. Charming. If that’s what you call ‘research,’ you’re the worst scholar in history.”

  She gambled on two things: Hua Duzi’s obvious pride in his scholarship and his need to defend it at length, and his vanity, which would hopefully keep him from silencing her outright. For now, both seemed to be working.

  Hua Duzi’s expression froze for a beat, the faintest twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth. Then, slowly, a smile curved his lips, not kind or amused, but sharp and brittle like cracked glass.

  “You really don’t know when to stop talking, do you?” he said softly. “Perhaps your master spoiled you too much. You think wit can save you from anything.”

  Bai Ning’s answering grin was all teeth. “Well, it’s worked so far.”

  The smile vanished from his face. His hand flexed around the shard of bone, and for an instant, she thought he might shatter it in fury. Then he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. The mask of composure slipped back into place.

  “That tongue of yours will be the first thing I silence once this is over,” he said, almost tenderly. “Until then, I’ll indulge you. You’ll die anyway, so might as well die enlightened.”

  He crouched, bringing himself level with her eyes. The dull light caught the shard in his hand, making it glint faintly, as if there were something moving inside it, a slow shimmer of grey.

  “This piece,” he continued, voice steady, “isn’t merely the remains of an immortal. It’s the remains of an immortal Gu. It still remembers being one. That’s why it drains qi, you se. Iit’s trying to rebuild itself, to return to what it once was. I am merely helping it along. That’s why I refined a Gu: so I can fuse the bone to one I control and become the master of a true immortal Gu.”

  Bai Ning’s controlled expression wavered, giving way to a horrified comprehension. “That’s… are you mad? That would never work. Do you know how many lives you’d have to feed it to even approach that?”

  “Oh, don’t sound so sanctimonious,” he said, laughing lightly. “All cultivators feed on something, whether that be qi, spirit stones, or herbs older than most sects. The difference is I don’t pretend it’s righteous.”

  She swallowed, thinking of the False Core Pill she’d taken. Different, she told herself. She was not a monster like him.

  Inside, she felt the pressure continue to build in her dantian, a gathering storm pressing against its confines. It was starting to become somewhat painful, like eating on an already full stomach. She was close.

  She forced herself to keep her voice steady. “So that’s your grand plan? Fuse some ancient bone to a new monster until it remembers it’s a god? And what happens when it decides you’re unnecessary?”

  Hua Duzi’s smile didn’t falter. “That won’t happen. I told you; I did my research. When I am done, even immortals will have to make way.”

  Right. A demonic cultivator. No matter how rational he sounded, he was still a monster and a madman.

  It didn’t matter. She was on the edge; she could feel it. Now, she needed Hua Duzi to look away, to ignore her.

  She let her face fall into one of hopeless disbelief, slowly replaced by dawning determination. She wasn’t sure how convincing it was, but gritting her teeth against the pain in her dantian might make her seem more heroic. “You won’t succeed. We’ll defeat you. Even if you get away, you’ll be hunted down.”

  She considered adding a few more generic threats but decided against overplaying her hand.

  Hua Duzi rolled his eyes. “They all say that at the end. That’s why I don’t bother with conversations.” He seemed completely unaware of the irony as he rose. “Well, I’ve humored you long enough. There’s no point in continuing this.”

  Bai Ning’s head froze again, leaving her completely paralyzed, but inside, relief surged. Thank the furnace of Laozi that had worked.

  Hua Duzi turned away, once more muttering to himself. She caught fragments: “can’t risk a fight…,” “this is the correct way…,” “just ten more minutes.” The last one was ominous; it set a deadline, but if her plan worked, ten minutes would be more than enough.

  Advancing in cultivation was difficult. It required meticulous preparation, including a suitable environment and the right mindset.

  Some of that difficulty eased when advancing within the same realm rather than leaping to the next. Moving through the stages of Qi Condensation was far simpler than breaking into Foundation Establishment. Likewise, progressing from early to mid-stage Foundation Establishment presented fewer obstacles.

  Her plan was to trigger her advancement to late-stage right here, right now.

  She could already hear her master’s scolding in her mind: “Reckless! Did everything I teach you just go out the window?” But this was her best chance. The circumstances were far from ideal, but she felt that she had a real shot at success.

  Inside her dantian, the pressure had built to an almost unbearable height. She began to compress it, taking her qi drop by drop, piece by piece, and forcing it toward the center. It resisted, as she had expected, but she pressed on stubbornly. Her qi felt like oil or syrup: dense, fluid, and stubborn. By compressing it further, she could make it even denser, almost like molten metal, a degree of power she hoped would allow her to fight back.

  The heat in her dantian burned like a forge, searing through her veins. Her body couldn’t even tremble under the strain, but sweat beaded on her brow. She refused to release even a fraction of the pressure, even as every fiber of her being screamed to stop, to let the qi disperse. Instead, she clenched her teeth and forced it inward, forcing the energy into a single, unyielding point.

  Then, as if the world itself had paused, it happened.

  The pressure snapped.

  Her qi thickened, solidifying almost to the point of tangible weight, yet it remained fluid enough to flow under her will. It no longer churned chaotically; it moved in perfect layers, thrumming through her meridians with unstoppable rhythm, but appeared as if it were frozen. Cengliu, the mark of a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator. Her qi had accelerated, clarified, and yet appeared to be completely still, as if time itself had slowed around it.

  Master Mo Jian had shown her this phenomenon. In his demonstration, he had used oil, but any viscous fluid could illustrate it: when forced through a narrow opening at high speed, the liquid seemed frozen. It wasn’t; it was a layered, turbulence-free flow. Her qi was now not only greater but far easier to control.

  And with that breakthrough, the force that had restrained her shattered. Control returned to her body. Qi surged, every nerve alive with power. Her sword rose from its storage pouch, floating effortlessly into her grasp.

  Up ahead, Hua Duzi turned, shock plain on his face. “How…” he began, then immediately stopped, hand flashing back into his robes.

  Bai Ning let him, still marveling at the flow of her qi. She felt revitalized, alive in a way she never had before.

  The bone appeared again in Hua Duzi’s hand, and she focused. This time, the technique came effortlessly. That intuitive sense of the world as something meant to be cut returned. Without effort, her sword rose and parried a strike so light, so effortless, that it was like diverting a gust of wind. She lowered her sword slowly, deliberately, every motion radiating calm confidence.

  Hua Duzi’s jaw dropped. His composure crumbled. “What… how are you not frozen?” he stammered, his voice trembling with shock.

  Bai Ning shrugged, unshaken. “I parried it.”

  His eyes widened further, panic creeping in. “You… parried it? Parried what? There is no emanation of qi to block or strike at!” He suddenly seemed to realize the situation and his newfound vulnerability. With difficulty, he forced his composure back.

  Bai Ning flared her qi, signaling the others within the bubble. It would at least be enough to draw Jin Rou’s attention, make him charge in. She regarded Hua Duzi with a faint, almost serene smile.

  Without a word, he spun on his heel and fled, sprinting at top speed.

  Bai Ning followed effortlessly.

  Outside the small shack where their confrontation had taken place, the world had descended into chaos.

  The cosmic bubble’s light had dimmed, and was now flickering unevenly. Above, dark purple clouds seethed with venom, dripping corrosive rain. Below, the sea rose and fell in relentless fury, white-capped waves smashing against jagged rocks. The water was black, and even more poisonous than the skies above.

  Worse, the fight against the Gu seemed to be going poorly. The creature screeched and shrieked, a sound like nails scraping across stone, rattling the bubble to its very limits. It felt as if the entire world might collapse at any moment.

  Bai Ning forced herself to focus on her own fight. Hua Duzi had reached the edge of their small island and leapt into the air, riding a shadowy ant. It looked like a tangible mass of darkness vaguely resembling an insect. It was no spirit beast, she was certain, yet she didn’t recognize the technique or tool that had produced it.

  From her left, a white glow streaked toward the island; a small shuttle, heading her way from Undersea ship struggling not to capsize in the furious waters of the bubble. Jin Rou.

  Bai Ning turned back to Hua Duzi and swung her sword. The swordlight that emerged was even thinner than before, almost imperceptible, like a wavering line slicing through the air.

  It reached him in an instant. Some instinct forced him to look back, and whatever he saw made him flinch. He jumped, abandoning his mount, plummeting toward the black waves. The swordlight cleaved the shadow ant cleanly, dispersing it into nothingness.

  Bai Ning tracked him as he fell, but before he could hit the water, a pulse of force beneath him pushed the waves down, tossing him onto the island’s shore. Huh, that was convenient for her.

  She sprinted, racing to the edge as Hua Duzi shakily pulled himself up. He caught sight of her and panicked. After being helpless against him for so long, the sight sent a small thrill surging through her.

  She didn’t hesitate. Another rippling swordlight shot forward. Hua Duzi’s hand darted inside his robe, and his entire body froze unnaturally. He had used the bone on himself.

  Her swordlight struck, breaking the technique, also shattering itself in the process. Hua Duzi was thrown to the ground, unharmed but stunned.

  “You… just what are you?” he asked, horror etched across his face.

  Lightning erupted above. Not a single bolt, but a storm, tearing through clouds and cleansing the seething poison from the air. Bai Ning looked up, a smile spreading across her face as she felt the qi surge in the air, the source of it as familiar to her as her own breath.

  An azure comet tore through the top of the cosmic bubble, bathing the world inside in silver-blue light for a heartbeat.

  He had returned.

  Well. That was an excellent cue. Far be it from her not to use it.

  She jabbed her thumb skyward, pointing to the spectacle above. “My name is Bai Ning and I am the student of that man. And one day, I will be the greatest cultivator to ever come from these lands.”