CHAPTER 48

Purple Rogue

LUO FAN

When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying on a small, rickety bed inside a cold steel cell. The dim light from a single overhead lantern cast faint shadows on the walls, heightening the suffocating atmosphere.

Pain coursed through my body—not just from the wounds sustained during the fight but from a deeper, more insidious source. It was as though my qi had turned into a raging torrent, tearing through me uncontrollably. My chest tightened unbearably, making each breath a laborious task. I tried lying still, hoping to ease the pressure, but it only intensified.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to sit up, and the crushing weight on my chest lessened slightly. I inhaled deeply, struggling to regain control over my fractured body.

Then it all came rushing back.

Jinjing.

Her tears. The coin purse. The betrayal.

The woman I had trusted above all else, the one I had envisioned spending the rest of my life with—how could she have done this to me?

I clutched my chest as the memory pierced through me like a dagger, the emotional anguish feeding the chaos within my qi. The pain became unbearable, and I could feel myself teetering on the brink of something far worse. My body trembled, and my breath came in short, pained gasps as I doubled over, trying in vain to suppress the storm inside.

Suddenly, my gaze fell on my hands.

My fingers tingled with an unfamiliar sensation, and as I raised them, I froze in shock. Rising from my fingertips was an inky black mist, dark energy twisting and writhing like a living thing.

My eyes widened in disbelief, my heart hammering in my chest.

“What... what is this?” I murmured, my voice trembling.

Dark energy. From my own body.

I stared at it, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. As a light core bearer, this should have been impossible.

“How could this happen?” I whispered. “Where did this come from?”

The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. Dark energy didn’t arise spontaneously—it had to be rooted in something. A core.

A dark core.

The thought sent a chill down my spine. A dark core inside me? But how?

My mind raced through the possibilities. My abductors? No, they were light core cultivators. They couldn’t have done this.

And then I heard it.

Ruan Yanjun’s laughter echoed in my mind, low and mocking, as clear as if he stood beside me.

Of course.

Who else could it have been but the notorious devil of Xianru?

The realization both angered and terrified me. If Ruan Yanjun had implanted a dark core within me, it wasn’t out of kindness or a mistake. It was deliberate, calculated—yet another piece in his grand, unfathomable game.

I clenched my fists, my hands trembling as the dark energy continued to swirl. The betrayal of Jinjing was fresh and searing, but this revelation cut even deeper.

The devil hadn’t just manipulated my fate.

He had claimed a piece of my very soul.

Certainly, Ruan Yanjun must have done this to me while I was unconscious. As I pieced together the fragments of memory, several instances came to mind where he might have had the opportunity to implant a dark core inside me.

But the most plausible moment was that night in the Silverblade’s hideout.

I could still recall his fury, how it boiled over and drove him to take liberties no man should. At the time, I had thought it was just another manifestation of his twisted perversion, his insatiable hunger for control and humiliation.

But now, as I thought back more carefully, the memory became sharper.

The way he had grabbed me, his breath ragged with anger, his eyes blazing with malicious intent. I had felt a surge of dark energy—a searing, foreign force—channeled into me through my mouth just moments before I fell unconscious.

“Ruan Yanjun,” I muttered through gritted teeth, his name burning on my tongue like poison. I cursed him inwardly, my heart heavy with rage.

But the surge of anger, hot and consuming, only worsened the storm inside me.

The pain was unbearable now, each breath like a blade slicing through my chest. My qi churned violently, like a river caught in a whirlpool. My hands trembled uncontrollably as the dark energy flared brighter, tendrils of black mist curling from my fingertips.

Fear gripped me as I realized what was happening. Two opposing cores were battling within me, their energies colliding in a catastrophic clash that threatened to tear me apart from the inside.

This was no time to let fear take hold. I had to act.

I clenched my fists, struggling to calm my mind. If I allowed my negative emotions to spiral further—if I gave in to the anger and despair—they would only strengthen the dark core, feeding it until it consumed my light core entirely.

If that happened, I knew there would be no return.

The light core, the essence of who I was and the path I had chosen, would be destroyed. I would be left with no choice but to embrace dark cultivation, a fate I utterly abhorred. I would rather lose my martial arts altogether, become a cripple, than walk the path of darkness.

Desperation coursed through me, but I forced myself to focus.

I sat down cross-legged on the cold, steel floor and closed my eyes. The lotus position, a posture of balance and meditation, had always been a source of grounding for me. I prayed it would still be.

Ignoring the searing pain in my chest and the chaos within my body, I willed my mind to detach from the world. I reached for the calm I had learned in countless hours of training, searching for that inner stillness I so desperately needed now.

I inhaled deeply, allowing the air to fill my lungs, and exhaled slowly, expelling not just breath but the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

Focus.

I visualized the opposing energies inside me, a blinding white light struggling against the encroaching black mist. I pictured myself as a mediator, a silent observer standing between them.

The clash raged on, but I pushed aside the fear and anger that fed the darkness. I reminded myself of who I was—a cultivator of the light, bound by the principles of righteousness and self-control.

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This was not the end.

No matter what Ruan Yanjun had done to me, I would not let it define me.

The world around me faded away as I immersed myself deeper into meditation, battling not with brute strength but with sheer willpower. For the sake of my light core, for the sake of my very soul, I had to prevail.

*****

The man with the whip, the one I had fought before, opened the heavy iron door to my cell. He stood there, his eyes cold and devoid of empathy, as he said, “Wei Fan. Purple Rogue wants to see you.”

I didn’t respond, even though my body was still screaming in pain and my qi remained turbulent. With great effort, I swung my legs off the bed, wincing as I stood. My limbs felt like lead, and my chest was tight, every breath a struggle. But I refused to show weakness. Slowly, I stepped out of the cell.

“Follow me,” he commanded, turning on his heel.

He didn’t bother binding my hands—he knew I was too weak to fight my way through the guards or even attempt an escape. The realization stung my pride, but I remained silent, trailing him down the dim corridor. The clinking sound of keys and the heavy thud of my footsteps echoed off the stone walls, each step amplifying the dread pooling in my chest.

Eventually, we arrived at a large hall.

The moment I entered, my eyes were drawn to the man seated in a commanding wooden chair, intricately carved to resemble a throne. His face was obscured by a purple mask, but his presence was palpable, exuding authority and menace. Behind him stood the two other men I had fought earlier, their expressions unreadable but their weapons ready at hand.

“Wei Fan,” the masked man spoke, his voice deep and composed, yet laced with an undertone of mockery. “I never truly believed the rumors that you still lived. Yet here you are, standing before me.”

The voice wasn’t familiar, and neither was the man’s imposing figure. He was taller than me, with broad shoulders and an aura that suggested years of cultivation. If he had once been a disciple of Frost Mountain, I would have recognized him immediately—such a physique was rare among my sect.

And yet, he clearly knew me.

But how? How had they tracked me down? Could there be a traitor among the Silverblades?

“Sit down,” Purple Rogue ordered.

The man with the whip pulled out a chair across from their leader and gestured for me to sit. Reluctantly, I obeyed, sinking into the chair while trying to mask my unease.

“May I know how to address you?” I asked, my tone polite but distant.

“They call me Purple Rogue,” he said. “You may do the same.”

I gave a respectful nod but refrained from responding further. It wasn’t a pleasure to meet him, and I wouldn’t pretend otherwise.

“So,” I said, cutting through the tension, “what can I do for you, Purple Rogue?”

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest. “Since you’re being direct, I’ll return the courtesy. My group is planning to ambush Sect Leader Ruan. Are you willing to cooperate?”

I blinked, stunned by his proposition. While I harbored resentment toward Ruan Yanjun, it wasn’t enough to make me betray him.

“Why would you want to ambush Sect Leader Ruan?” I asked, cautious.

“Do you even need to ask that?” he replied, his tone sharp. “We’re all light cores here. Dark cores are our natural enemies.”

I lowered my gaze. That was the standard belief among light core cultivators—that all dark core bearers were inherently evil. But during my time in Ruan Yanjun’s residence, I had discovered otherwise. While Ruan Yanjun himself was undeniably cruel and manipulative, some of his disciples, like Huang Wen, were not. They followed their own codes of conduct and avoided unnecessary conflict.

Killing someone simply because they bore a dark core was uncalled for, especially if they hadn’t posed a direct threat.

“What crime has Sect Leader Ruan committed against you that warrants his death?” I pressed.

Purple Rogue’s fingers tightened around the cup in his hand, a flicker of irritation crossing his masked face. “Sect Leader Ruan is a devil. Do you suggest we wait for him to strike first? Should we stand idle until he decides to destroy us?”

I shook my head. “I was with Sect Leader Ruan for a considerable time. In that period, I never saw him destroy or kill unnecessarily. His pride is immense. He considers no sect a worthy rival to Eternal Damnation Sect and sees other sects as insignificant ants. He doesn’t waste his energy eradicating what he perceives as trivial.”

Purple Rogue’s grip on his cup visibly tightened, but he composed himself after a deep breath.

“Wei Fan,” he said, his voice calm but biting, “could the rumors be true? Were you in an illicit affair with Sect Leader Ruan?”

Anger flared within me. “That is a baseless rumor. I am engaged to the woman your group paid to betray me.”

He laughed deeply, the sound echoing through the hall. “And yet, why do I get the feeling you’re using that former prostitute as a cover to dispel the truth about you and Sect Leader Ruan?”

My face burned with fury. “Sir,” I said, my voice steady despite the rage boiling inside me, “I will not allow you to defame my betrothed. My engagement is real, and that slanderous rumor remains nothing more than a lie.”

He leaned forward, a mocking smile in his tone. “I’m amazed you still defend her after her betrayal. What loyalty. But what if I continue to tarnish her reputation? What would you do then?”

I gritted my teeth, determined not to let his provocations affect me. Any rise in my emotions would worsen my qi deviation.

He waved his hand dismissively. “Enough about her. Let’s return to the matter at hand. Are you willing to cooperate?”

“My answer is no,” I said firmly.

Purple Rogue sighed, his tone carrying a mockery of patience. “Don’t be foolish, Wei Fan. My order is to kill you, but I’m willing to make an exception. Help me eliminate Ruan Yanjun, and I’ll spare your life. I’ll nullify your cultivation once again and leave you to your simple life here in Xianru. You can marry your betrothed and live out your days in peace. The only condition is that you never set foot in Kan Empire again. I give you my word as a follower of the Path of Righteousness.”

His audacity infuriated me. To invoke the Path of Righteousness—a doctrine that preached virtue and justice—while plotting murder and deception was the epitome of hypocrisy. I glared at him, my chest tightening with suppressed anger.

“The crown prince of Kan is so threatened by my existence that he wants me dead at all costs," I returned, struggling to maintain my calmness. "What makes you think I’d believe a single word you say?”

He smirked, a maddening expression of calculated confidence. “Unlike the crown prince, I do not act out of mere emotions and instinct,” he replied, his tone condescending. “I consider my actions carefully, weighing their implications. Without Ruan Yanjun’s support, your dream of reclaiming your rightful place as heir to the former emperor will never materialize. And when that dream dies, so does any threat you pose to the Kan Empire. At that point, you’d become irrelevant—nothing more than a footnote in history.”

I tried not to get affected by his arrogance, though a knot of unease began to tighten in my chest. “But you are mistaken. I have no dream of taking any throne. Tell your crown prince he can rest easy. I have no intention of challenging him. The throne means nothing to me. He can keep it.”

His smirk deepened, his amusement at my words almost tangible. “I'm afraid I cannot afford to take your words at face value,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with menace. “The future of the empire demands certainty, not blind trust. I must ensure that the crown prince’s reign will remain unchallenged, free from even the shadow of resistance.”

I noticed something about him which made me narrow my eyes suspiciously. “You’re a master cultivator. What sect do you belong to?”

“That’s none of your concern,” he replied curtly.

I studied him more closely, noting his darkened complexion, a telltale sign of prolonged exposure to the sun. A realization dawned on me. “You’re a disciple of the Blazing Sun Sect, aren’t you?”

His silence was more telling than words. The subtle tightening of his grip on the hilt of his sword confirmed my suspicion.

In Kan Empire, there were two prominent light sects – the Ethereal Frost Sect, my former home nestled in the icy heights of Frost Mountain, and the Blazing Sun Sect, based in the scorching desert. The latter were masters of absorbing the sun’s energy, converting it into potent qi to fuel their cultivation.

“The Blazing Sun Sect has long been loyal to the former emperor,” I continued, pressing my advantage. “That loyalty was why the current emperor favors the Ethereal Frost Sect over yours. When did the Blazing Sun’s allegiance shift?”

Purple Rogue’s jaw clenched, his composure cracking for the briefest moment. “Enough,” he growled. “I’m the one asking the question here. Will you cooperate with us or not?”

“Even if I agreed, what makes you think you can defeat an immortal cultivator like Ruan Yanjun?”

His smirk returned, though it lacked its earlier confidence. “I have a plan. A very good one, in fact. But to succeed, we need you. Everyone knows that Sect Leader Ruan harbors a special affection for you. In other words, he’s finally revealed a weakness—and that weakness is you. We’ll use it against him.”

I sighed. I was really getting tired hearing those things. “That’s ridiculous.”

Purple Rogue laughed, the sound grating on my nerves. “So, Wei Fan, what will it be? Will you help us?”

“My answer is no,” I said firmly.

“Are you certain?” he pressed, his tone darkening.

“I am certain.”

He nodded to the man behind me. Before I could react, a whip lashed through the air, its tip slicing across my neck. I winced in pain, staggering to the side as another strike came, and then another. I tried to dodge, but my weakened state left me vulnerable. Each lash tore into my flesh, the searing pain making my vision blur.

Still, I refused to cry out.

Blood trickled down my back and pooled at my knees as I collapsed. My breathing was ragged, but I summoned what little strength I had left to glare up at Purple Rogue.

“Now,” he said, rising from his chair and walking toward me, “I’ll give you one last chance. Will you change your answer?”

“No,” I grunted, blood dripping from my lips.

He sighed, almost as if disappointed. Then he crouched, looking me in the eye. “Your loyalty to Ruan Yanjun is commendable, if not utterly foolish. You’re willing to die for him, and yet, where is he now? He doesn’t care about you, Wei Fan. If he did, he wouldn’t have left you to this fate.”

His words struck a chord I didn’t want to acknowledge. Last night, I had seen Ruan Yanjun in the village. Could he have foreseen this? Did he know I would be captured and merely watch, treating my suffering as some sort of spectacle?

Purple Rogue’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Take him back to his cell,” he ordered. “Torture him until he decides to cooperate.”

A pair of rough hands grabbed my arms, dragging me back through the dim corridor. The iron bars of my cage loomed ahead, and as I was thrown inside, I could still hear Purple Rogue’s mocking laughter echoing behind me.