Silence hung over the nameless tombstone like a held breath.
A thousand years of blood-soaked history had just been ripped open. So who bore the blame?
Kunlun, for recalling their only disciple and sealing his memories to protect the Immortal Realm — a decision made not from cruelty, but from the cold calculus of a sect clinging to peace?
Or Rong Xian, an immortal who loved a woman of the Yao Race, torn between the sect that raised him and the wife and child he swore to protect — and who, in the end, destroyed both?
"Who was wrong? Who?! Linglong — was it me, or was it the Heavenly Dao?!" The hunched figure at the grave folded forward, voice cracked open with grief.
Clouds swallowed the moon. Spiritual Qi erupted from Rong Xian's body in wild, uncontrolled surges. Birds fled the mountain in shrieking waves. The sound that tore from his throat was neither wail nor roar — something rawer than either. The group felt the cold before they could move.
Then the figure turned.
"Blood." Rong Xian stretched his hands out toward them, eyes gone wild. "Linglong. Xin'er. Their bodies were covered in blood. Master — Elders — look at my hands. I killed them. With these hands. All for your immortal Dao. For your Kunlun."
"Why is he coming after us?" Mu Jiu shrank back, eyes darting. "The old Sect Leader's been dead for centuries!"
"His mind has snapped back to that battlefield." Bai Shuo's voice dropped. "The memory of Clan Chief Linglong's death — it's awoken his killing intent. Right now, to him, we are the old Sect Leader and Elders of Kunlun."
"What?!" Mu Jiu spun toward Bei Chen. "You damned Sword Cultivator, your Kunlun can go straight to — ah!"
Before he finished, Rong Xian raised one hand. The iron sword embedded in the earth wrenched free and flew — Sword Qi raining down in sheets with no distinction between friend and foe. Fan Yue grabbed Bai Shuo and threw them both sideways. Chong Zhao was a beat too slow; the Sword Qi caught him across the side, and he staggered back several steps, jaw tight.
Bei Chen stepped forward and pushed Kunlun's own Sword Qi outward into a barrier around the group — thin, but holding.
"Sect Leader, stop!" He strained to keep it together, voice sharp. "Wake up! The old Sect Leader is gone — he has been for a long time!"
"Useless!" Mu Jiu dodged another strike, furious. "He can't hear you!"
"Why are you still alive when they are dead?!" Rong Xian's eyes blazed as he closed the distance, the iron sword rising and falling with each step. The barrier began to fracture — cracks splitting across the surface before Bei Chen could reinforce them.
Sword Qi punched through. Even grazing contact shredded fabric to ribbons.
"Damn all of you Kunlun lunatics!" Mu Jiu scrambled behind Bei Chen. "Why should I die for an immortal's mistake?!"
The next wave shattered the barrier entirely. The group hit the ground hard, coughing blood. Rong Xian loomed over them, iron sword raised. The Sword Qi of a Peak Upper Immortal gathered like a breaking wave —
"A-Shuo!" Chong Zhao forced himself upright and lunged to put himself between Bai Shuo and the blade.
"Mu Mu — get back!" On pure instinct, Bai Shuo pulled Fan Yue behind her own body.
Chong Zhao's outstretched hand stopped mid-reach. His eyes flickered.
In the same breath, Fan Yue twisted, reversing their positions — pressing Bai Shuo's back behind his instead.
The Sword Qi was a half-second from landing —
Then a crack of red light exploded through the dark, and the entire volley of Sword Qi burst apart into nothing.
Rong Xian slammed into the ground. The iron sword clattered beside him.
The group stared — dazed, gasping — at the figure now standing between them and the fallen Sect Leader: Hua Da Tie, the heavily powdered blacksmith with his iron staff pressed flat against Rong Xian's head. His colorful robes made him look entirely out of place. Entirely unconcerned.
Mu Jiu blinked. Bai Shuo blinked.
Fan Yue said nothing. He was still gripping Bai Shuo's hand, jaw set, something unspoken and sharp behind his eyes.
Bai Shuo barely noticed. She turned to check on Chong Zhao — who had already lowered his hand, his expression emptied out into careful indifference as he observed the two figures before him. He looked as though she had already ceased to exist to him.
Only he felt the nails driving into his own palm beneath his sleeve.
She exhaled in relief seeing him unharmed, and turned back to stare at the enormous blacksmith standing like a boulder in the middle of a cemetery.
This man had just scattered the full-force strike of a Peak Upper Immortal.
With one swing of an iron staff.
What in the — if he was this powerful, why had he spent his time chasing her over a stolen chicken?
"Brother!" Mu Jiu's eyes lit up. He bounded toward Hua Da Tie, arm already swinging for his shoulder. "That was insane — what's your name? I'm Mu Jiu from Silent Abyss, let's be —"
The staff swung. Mu Jiu went face-first into the dirt.
He was about to curse when he froze. Rong Xian had risen — head lowered, iron sword already flying back into his grip. Mu Jiu had landed directly beside him.
He scrambled to his feet and bolted behind Hua Da Tie.
"Senior." Hua Da Tie yawned, rubbing his staff with one thumb. "Whatever happened a thousand years ago — it has nothing to do with the people standing here. If you want vengeance, go to the underworld. Find the ones who were actually there."
Across the clearing, Rong Xian raised his head. His eyes were crimson — nothing in them but the desire to kill. He swept the group with a single cold look and raised the iron sword again.
A Sword Intent unlike anything before surged skyward. Dark clouds churned over the mountain peak. Lightning struck the iron blade. The Sword Qi that coiled around it was ten times what it had been.
Hua Da Tie's easy expression disappeared. His staff leveled at Rong Xian, the red glow along its surface guttering and steadying.
"Why isn't he affected?!" Mu Jiu stared up at the storm clouds, hands shaking as he raised his Minor Annihilation Wheel — which barely produced a flicker. "Jin Yao sealed the Spiritual Qi in this city! He should be powerless like the rest of us!"
Bai Shuo went still.
Of course.
The Abyssal City's Spirit-Sealing Array targeted Celestials and Demons. Everyone in the city had been stripped of their power — everyone except one kind of being.
The Abyssal Clan.
Nan Wan's strike earlier had left Rong Xian untouched. At the time it had seemed impossible. Now it made sense. If Rong Xian had once been an immortal, and was not of a separate race — then there was only one explanation remaining.
He was neither immortal nor demon. Or more precisely — he had never been Rong Xian at all.
A human being has limits. This creature did not. Unless it chose to surrender itself, no force in this world could stop it.
"Senior Linglong was born of the fox clan."
The iron sword struck downward, lightning wrapped around its edge — and Bai Shuo shook Fan Yue's hand free and stepped in front of Hua Da Tie.
"A-Shuo!"
"Bai Shuo!"
Chong Zhao and Fan Yue both lunged forward. Bai Shuo threw her hand up. "Stay back."
They stopped.
Because the sword had stopped.
"Rong Xian" raised his eyes to her. Something shifted — the first break in the madness since it began.
Bai Shuo turned to look at the three nameless graves behind him. "I thought one of these was empty. That you had simply guarded the graves of your wife and daughter for a thousand years." She paused. "But then I thought about the kind of man Rong Xian truly was. The Seal placed on him by the old Sect Leader — it required the blood of loved ones to break it. That tells you everything about him. A man of deep emotion and unbreakable loyalty. Kunlun owed him both gratitude and debt — debts that could never be repaid, wrongs he could never avenge. A man like that could not have borne to remain in this world after what he had done." She met the crimson eyes directly. "If I am not wrong, Senior Rong Xian followed Senior Linglong a thousand years ago. You are not him."
Silence.
Mu Jiu rubbed the back of his neck. "Girl, you've lost me. If he's not Rong Xian, how is he holding the Kunlun sword?"
"Because he can." Bai Shuo didn't look away. "If Senior Rong Xian chose the most agonizing death imaginable — then he can."
"What kind of death —"
"Ancient texts say that if a cultivator's Golden Core is forcibly torn from a living body, the Divine Soul is condemned. It cannot rest. It cannot pass on. Eternal torment, unending."
The graveyard went quiet.
Among immortals and demons across the Three Realms, there was no greater horror. To destroy one's own Golden Core was preferable to having it taken — because as long as the Core survived, the Soul could find no peace.
"He was at Peak Lord-level cultivation. Who could have extracted his Golden Core without a sound?"
No god would commit such an act.
"He did it himself."
The group stared at her.
"The Spirit-Sealing Array does not touch you because you are neither immortal nor demon. But the Kunlun iron sword knows its master — and in this world, only two things can wield it. Senior Rong Xian." She held the silence for one beat. "Or his Golden Core."
Mu Jiu's mouth fell open.
"Senior — you were born from his grief. Or rather — you are that Golden Core. The one he tore from his own body while still alive. Aren't you?"
A Golden Core has no consciousness of its own. But this one had been ripped free in unspeakable pain, saturated with grief and fury, tainted by the full weight of human suffering — and something inside it had woken. It had become him. A vessel for a thousand years of guilt, standing watch over three graves with no names.
"Rong Xian" looked at her. He said nothing. But the madness in his eyes had begun, at last, to recede — even as the killing intent remained, cold and patient.
"So it's not even a person." Mu Jiu pressed a hand over his face. "How do you fight something like that?"
"Senior — for a thousand years, Kunlun has taken only one disciple per generation. Lord Bei Chen set down his sword the moment he found you." Bai Shuo's voice softened. "That was Kunlun's remorse."
Bei Chen seemed to hear something in her words that crystallized. He stepped forward, dropped to one knee, and raised his own sword toward "Rong Xian" with both hands.
"Kunlun bears this. A debt across a thousand years." His voice broke slightly. "Sect Leader — rest now."
Bai Shuo looked toward Mu Jiu. "The fox clan took devastating losses that day. But they survived. Over centuries, they grew again — full of life and remarkable talents. Senior Linglong, if she can hear anything from the afterlife — she would know."
Every eye in the clearing moved to Mu Jiu.
He pressed his lips together. Didn't move.
He understood what Bai Shuo was asking. This "Rong Xian" was made of obsession and resentment — a Heart Demon given form. No technique could undo that. No spiritual art could reach it.
Only one thing could.
But why should he be the one to offer it? Were the hundred elders of the fox clan not lives worth grieving? Was their blood worth less?
The clouded, ancient eyes of "Rong Xian" found Mu Jiu — and stayed there. Somewhere inside the blankness was something that looked, almost, like a plea.
Mu Jiu didn't move. His fingers tightened around the small Annihilation Wheel.
"Having his Core torn out while living. His Soul wandering without rest for a thousand years." Bai Shuo said it quietly. "Your Highness —"
Mu Jiu flinched. He stood there another moment — then put the Wheel away.
He walked toward "Rong Xian" alone.
"That's enough." His voice came out rougher than he intended. "What you've carried — it's enough. Go."
Two drops of blood welled from "Rong Xian's" eyes and fell.
The iron sword trembled in his grip — one long, mournful ring — then crumbled to dust.
The madness drained from his face. He turned one last time toward the three graves, and something close to peace settled across his features.
Then he was gone. Sword and all.
Lightning faded. The mountain went quiet.
A single Golden Core hung in the air, glowing faintly.
Bai Shuo reached up and caught it.