Zhi Xuan let himself be pulled by Zhu Qinglan, floating low over the expanse of grass that was beginning to pale due to the cold air radiating from both of them. The silence between them felt far more deafening than the explosion of Xuan-Huang Energy in the ruins.

  Zhi Xuan stared at Zhu Qinglan's straight back; her silver hair, so similar to his own, waved in the dawn wind, yet he felt the distance between them was now as far as Heaven and Earth. After a short, suffocating journey, they arrived at a hidden valley shrouded in eternal white mist.

  In the middle of the valley stood an ancient-looking sandalwood pavilion, surrounded by plum trees whose flowers bloomed amidst the ice. The pavilion carried an aura of pure reclusion, a stark contrast to the air of slaughter clinging to Zhi Xuan's robes.

  "Enter," Zhu Qinglan commanded briefly as they landed on the pavilion's terrace.

  Zhi Xuan stepped inside, his heavy feet leaving blackened frost prints on the clean wooden floor. Inside, there was only a low table and several sitting cushions. Zhu Qinglan immediately closed the door and activated a high-level isolation formation that made the entire pavilion seem to vanish from the reality of the outside world.

  She turned around, her gray eyes staring sharply at Zhi Xuan's left arm. "Sit. And release that stupid ice before you freeze your own meridians for the sake of a futile disguise."

  Zhi Xuan sat cross-legged, his face lowered dejectedly. With a single thought, he withdrew the Law of Winter wrapping his arm. The Extreme Ice melted instantly, yet the water did not drip; instead, it evaporated into a cold white mist.

  The sacred silk wrapped around his arm was now clearly visible—pitch black, soaked by the seepage of blood and a devilish air that was no longer restrained. Faint dark claws appeared between his fingers; even Zhu Qinglan herself, who was usually as cold as ice, now gazed mournfully at Zhi Xuan's current condition. She truly did not know which direction Zhi Xuan intended to go.

  Zhu Qinglan slowly approached, her knees touching the wooden floor right in front of Zhi Xuan. The scent of cold lotus that was her trademark brushed against Zhi Xuan's senses, trying to dispel the smell of metal and death that still clung tightly. Her pale white, delicate hand rose, hesitating for a moment, before finally touching the polluted silk weave.

  "This is no longer just a Law you are learning, Zhi Xuan," Zhu Qinglan whispered, her voice trembling lowly, as if she were holding back a blizzard within her chest. "You are letting something ancient and evil take root within your marrow. Why? What did you find down there that made you feel the need to sacrifice your human frame?"

  Zhi Xuan looked up, his sapphire eyes appearing in sharp contrast to his increasingly pale face and the dark red pattern on his forehead. "I found a way to win, Qinglan. I found a way so that I could enter the second Great Constellation. If I must become a devil for that victory, then let it be, as long as you still see me as a human."

  "Seeing you for me?" Zhu Qinglan pulled the black silk with a small jerk, revealing the skin of Zhi Xuan's left arm which had turned entirely black, with red veins pulsing like glowing lava. "You think I want to stand beside a monster that cannot even feel the warmth of dawn? You are a fool... you are truly a foolish shepherd!"

  Zhi Xuan fell silent, feeling the pulse of anger mixed with sadness from Zhu Qinglan's touch. Within his soul, the Slaughter Pillar responded to the woman's sacred aura with a snort of darkness, as if the two poles of energy within the pavilion were at war in the silence.

  Zhu Qinglan closed her eyes, her long eyelashes slightly wet. She took a deep breath, and suddenly, a pure ice aura exploded from her body. However, this time it was not an attacking ice; the ice flowed gently, crawling from her hand toward Zhi Xuan's black arm.

  The cold air channeled by Zhu Qinglan was not piercing like the storm in the Tianluo Mountains; instead, it felt like a mountain spring stream trying to wash an inflamed burn. The left side of Zhi Xuan's body trembled violently; the Slaughter Pillar on his forehead pulsed wildly, like a wild beast being doused with holy water, roaring in rejection of the purification.

  "Do not fight me, Zhi Xuan," Zhu Qinglan hissed, cold sweat appearing on her temples as she forced her pure ice to battle the dense devilish air. "My Soul Transformation cultivation can channel enough vitality to strengthen your Tree of Life. Look, even your Tree of Life is nearly contaminated."

  Zhi Xuan gasped, his consciousness immediately diving into his Sea of Consciousness. There, the sight he found made him feel as if his heart were being squeezed by a giant hand. The Devil Tree of Life, which was usually lush with silvery-purple leaves, now appeared to droop listlessly.

  Its majestic trunk was beginning to be crawled by pitch-black lines spreading from its roots—the place where the Devil Seed and the Kun Peng pearl took root. The slaughter aura he brought from the ruins was apparently too dense, exceeding the neutralizing capacity of his human lineage.

  If not for Zhu Qinglan's intervention, perhaps within a few days, the tree would have withered completely, turning Zhi Xuan into an empty vessel for pure devilish instincts without the vitality of a cultivator. Although he believed Ruo Xianxue would not let that happen, the threat of a contaminated Tree of Life was truly like a catastrophe.

  "Qinglan, just stop," Zhi Xuan murmured, his face grimacing in pain. "You will only hurt yourself if you keep forcing it; I do not want to damage your foundation because of this."

  "Silence!" Zhu Qinglan suddenly shouted in a high pitch, her voice breaking and trembling. "If you are worried about me, why don't you just worry about yourself!"

  A cold silence immediately gripped the pavilion after Zhu Qinglan's shout subsided. The woman's chest heaved with ragged breath, her gray eyes now staring at Zhi Xuan with a gaze that was a mixture of burning anger and deep fear.

  This was the first time Zhi Xuan had seen the composure of a Holy Fairy collapse completely, leaving a woman who only wanted to save what remained of her soulmate. Zhi Xuan was stunned, his black hand stiff in the air, while the ice air from Zhu Qinglan grew more intense in wrapping his arm, trying to freeze the pulse of red lava creeping on his skin.

  "You always do this," Zhu Qinglan whispered again, her voice low once more, yet more painful than the previous shout. "You always walk toward the fire and ask me not to be burned when I try to pull you out. You carry thousands of lives on your shoulders, Zhi Xuan. Tell me, what Law do you carry?"

  Zhi Xuan could only look down; he felt a drop of warm sweat fall from Zhu Qinglan's face onto his cold arm. "The world did not give me a choice to remain whole, Qinglan. The Path of Righteousness, the Ancient Clans, the threat of the Eternal Killing Temple, and those who target my life... they will not let me win with clean hands."

  "Heavenly-Blood Body Law," Zhi Xuan continued hoarsely, no longer able to hide the secret of his body technique. "Every drop of blood I absorb will form a Slaughter Seal."

  Zhi Xuan raised his hand and grabbed his collar, opening it to let the top of his robe fall to the floor. It revealed a horrifying form where half of his body was dark and covered in slaughter veins, pulsing in rhythm with his breath.

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  "This pattern," Zhi Xuan said, pointing toward the veins that looked like a spider web on his chest. "You have seen it before; now you see it again, with half of my body already taken."

  Zhu Qinglan was stunned, her hand that was previously flowed with ice now frozen in the air, not because of her own power, but because of a paralyzing shock. Under the dim light of the pavilion, Zhi Xuan's body looked like a tragic painting of the war between light and darkness.

  His right side was still as white as marble, showing muscles formed from hard training, but his left side was a bottomless abyss; black as a starless night, with red veins glowing dimly like embers refusing to die.

  "Before... that pattern was only a mark on your chest," Zhu Qinglan's voice trembled, her fingers slowly touching the border where Zhi Xuan's white skin met the rough darkness. "Before, you had almost died several times. But now, you are like death that remains alive. Why, Zhi Xuan? Why?"

  Zhu Qinglan raised her hand, moving from his chest to Zhi Xuan's jaw, stroking that sharp and strong jaw softly with a gaze that was wounded, disappointed, and filled with endless sadness. The pearl covering on her face fell away, revealing her beautiful face and her slightly trembling lips.

  Zhu Qinglan no longer cared for the ethics of a Holy Fairy or the cold dignity she had always upheld before the disciples of the Empire. In this isolated pavilion, she was just a woman watching the light she considered her Tao Protector being slowly swallowed by the soot of hell.

  Her trembling fingers brushed Zhi Xuan's jaw, feeling the abnormal heat radiating from the pillar pattern on the youth's forehead—a heat that carried the smell of blood rust and iron—noticing how those rebellious sapphire eyes were still there, yet this time burdened by the same weight.

  Zhi Xuan closed his eyes, letting Zhu Qinglan's cold touch become the only reality he possessed at this moment. He felt like a traveler nearly dying of thirst in the desert, and this woman's hand was the last drop of dew preventing him from crumbling into dust.

  "Every time you leave, I always wonder... whether you will return as the Zhi Xuan I know, or as a tombstone of yourself," Zhu Qinglan whispered, her face now only a few inches from Zhi Xuan's. Her lotus-scented breath touched Zhi Xuan's pale skin. "And now you return with half a body that is dead. Is victory in that competition worth the loss of your humanity?"

  Zhi Xuan opened his eyes, his blue sapphires now glassy, reflecting the same deep sadness in Zhu Qinglan's gray eyes. "If I did not have this power, I would not even have the chance to return and look into your eyes again, Qinglan. This world did not ask my permission to be cruel; it only forced me to choose. Humanity exists because I choose it, not by eliminating it."

  Zhi Xuan's blackened left hand slowly rose, moving stiffly as if its weight exceeded thousands of catties. He wanted to touch Zhu Qinglan's face, but he stopped exactly one inch in front of the woman's smooth cheek.

  He feared the darkness in his hand would infect Zhu Qinglan's purity, or worse, the devilish claws hiding behind the dark skin would harm the skin as smooth and white as the snow atop the Holy Fairy's mountain peak.

  Seeing that hesitation, Zhu Qinglan instead grabbed Zhi Xuan's black hand with both of her own. She pressed that rough, dark palm to her own cheek, unconcerned by the evil air trying to pierce her soul.

  "You will not hurt me, Zhi Xuan," Zhu Qinglan said in a tone that was now faint and weary, leaning slightly into that dark hand. "You recognize me; this is not darkness to me. You say this hand is meant to protect me, then let me hold this hand."

  She exhaled slowly, the vibration in her breath speaking louder than words. She continued by pressing her cheek further into the palm. "The karma we built is stronger than even your Body Law. If you go too far, I can pull you back through that karmic bond."

  Zhi Xuan was stunned; a strange vibration crawled from his black palm toward his heart. The touch of Zhu Qinglan's cheek felt so real—cold yet carrying a warmth that killed all war logic in his head.

  For the first time since he stepped out of the pool of blood in the Ruins of the Heavenly Light Sect, the turmoil of the Slaughter Pillar on his forehead subsided, not because of the force of ice, but because of a surrendered tenderness.

  "Qinglan..." Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice now fully returning to being human, though hoarse with emotion.

  His left hand, which was originally stiff and heavy, slowly softened. The devilish claws that had briefly peeked from behind his dark skin shrank back, as if the destructive instinct within him also felt ashamed to hurt the woman before him. Under Zhu Qinglan's touch, the black air that had previously surged wildly now settled, like calm mud at the bottom of a clear lake.

  Zhu Qinglan closed her eyes, letting the ice energy within her body flow in the same rhythm as Zhi Xuan's heartbeat. She did not try to purify the darkness with violence anymore, but rather tried to encase it, giving it space so it wouldn't continuously tear at the youth's frame.

  Zhi Xuan stared at the face of the woman before him with a look that was nearly shattered. The pearl covering that had fallen earlier revealed Zhu Qinglan's perfect facial lines—a masterpiece of an ancient clan that now appeared so fragile in its surrender. The tears he had held back now flowed slowly, passing over Zhi Xuan's black palm, feeling like splashes of holy water cooling the fire crater within his soul.

  "You know..." Zhu Qinglan's voice broke, almost like the whisper of wind in the middle of autumn. "Every time you look at me with those burdened eyes, I feel heavy. I am the Holy Fairy said to be capable of freezing the world, yet I continue to act like this toward you."

  Zhi Xuan moved his left thumb, wiping a tear from Zhu Qinglan's cheek with great care. His dark skin provided a painful contrast against Zhu Qinglan's white skin, yet his movement was so gentle that not a single bit of devilish air dared to emerge.

  "Do not cry for me," Zhi Xuan whispered—simple words that felt incredibly heavy because they were spoken by lips that had drunk thousands of lives. "The Yao Gu Plains will understand that Xing Luo will win the competition this time."

  He waved his free hand, as clean as marble, and reached for the Heavenly Sword residing on his back. He moved his fingers, and the white cloth wrap came loose from the dark blade, revealing lightning runes that carried the weight of slaughter.

  "This sword, an Eternal Artifact, might look heavy and frightening," Zhi Xuan murmured, softly stroking Zhu Qinglan's cheek. "But here, before you, this sword is like a piece of rotted iron. Do you want to try holding it?"

  Zhu Qinglan opened her eyes slowly, staring at the blade of the Heavenly Sword now unsheathed between them. The dim light from the lightning runes engraved on the surface of the dark blade reflected in her gray eyes, creating a mysterious glint.

  She did not immediately reach for it; instead, she looked at Zhi Xuan's fingers stroking her cheek—a contrast between the hand that brought death and the hand offering the hilt of a sword to her.

  "Hold my hand," Zhu Qinglan murmured with a slight demand, extending her hand to Zhi Xuan. "Make me not feel burdened by the Sword you carry; hold my hand to hold that sword."

  Zhi Xuan was stunned for a moment hearing the request that sounded so human yet full of authority. He slowly placed the Heavenly Sword on the sandalwood floor, letting the dark blade capable of splitting mountains lie surrendered between them.

  His right hand, as white as marble, moved to meet Zhu Qinglan's delicate fingers, gripping them with the warmth still remaining from his human essence. Their grip met—a union between pure ice and a restrained storm.

  Zhu Qinglan guided Zhi Xuan's hand back to grasp the hilt of the Heavenly Sword, so that now both their hands were united atop the instrument of slaughter. Instantly, a strange resonance occurred. The Heavenly Sword, which was usually thirsty for blood and thunder, now emitted a low, soothing hum.

  Ice energy from Zhu Qinglan flowed through her fingers, traveling to Zhi Xuan's hand, and finally merging with the sword blade. The wild red thunder on the surface of the artifact slowly dimmed, replaced by a layer of bluish ice crystals that brought peace.

  "See," Zhu Qinglan whispered, her eyes staring intently at the sword blade now covered in beautiful frost. "Even this inanimate object that brings death can find peace when you do not force it to destroy. This sword is you, Zhi Xuan. It will be a sword of slaughter or a sword of protection, depending on who holds your hand."

  Zhi Xuan felt the weight in his chest loosen slightly. For the first time, he did not feel the urge to slash. He only felt Zhu Qinglan's presence—her breath, her warmth, and her unwavering determination. The Slaughter Pillar on his forehead truly cooled down; its black steam vanished completely, leaving behind a red pattern that now looked like a calm jade ornament.

  "I understand," Zhi Xuan murmured, his voice now sounding sincere without any more of the terrifying metallic echo. "This hand... this sword... everything is to ensure that I still have an anchor."

  Zhu Qinglan rested her forehead on Zhi Xuan's still-human shoulder, taking a long breath that felt like releasing the burden of a thousand-mile journey. She slowly shifted her body closer, causing Zhi Xuan to immediately put the Heavenly Sword back into his Sea of Consciousness.

  "Stay like this for a while," Zhu Qinglan murmured as she leaned her body into Zhi Xuan's lap, her voice vulnerable as she closed her eyes feeling the warmth. "Do not talk about the competition, do not talk about anything."

  She placed one hand on Zhi Xuan's chest, feeling the man's stable heartbeat, not surging with massive evil energy as before. "Let this pavilion be the boundary between you and the world that wants to consume you. And me, who has always considered this my territory."