'This is too much, huh?' Ji Wuye’s chest tightened as he watched the tempest of emotions fracture Senior Sister Qiu’s steel-like composure.

Her eyes—usually sharp enough to cut through bone—now swam with unshed tears, their irises glinting like fractured sunlit quartz under the ash-choked sky.

She stood rigid before him, her fists clenched so hard the knuckles blanched to the color of winter bone, while the jagged edge of her glare locked onto his.

Her lips, trembling against an onslaught of words she refused to voice, pressed inward until the delicate bow of her mouth disappeared, leaving only a bloodless, quivering line.

Without a breath of hesitation, Ji Wuye closed the distance between them. His hands, still streaked with dried blood, gripped her shoulders, then slid to her back, pulling her against him in a motion as instinctive as drawing a blade.

Her jasmine perfume—subtle and sweet—clashed with the metallic tang of the blood.

“Let me go, Junior.” Her voice sliced through the air, colder than the mountain winds that whipped through the sect’s peaks. Her palms flattened against his chest, nails clawing into the tattered remains of his robe.

He felt her trembling—not the flutter of uncertainty, but the seismic shudder of rage contending with grief. Her nails bit deeper, anchoring into his flesh like talons, as if clinging to anger might armor her against the flood beneath.

Ji Wuye's arms banding tighter around her slender frame. Even through the layers of her white martial robe, he could trace the tension knotting her muscles, coiled as tightly as a bowstring.

Her body radiated heat—not the steady warmth of life, but the fevered blaze. The frantic drumbeat of her heart hammered against his ribs, a staccato counterpoint to the distant, guttural roars of the lingering battlefield.

“LET ME GO!” Her cry fractured the air, raw and ragged. Sapphire-blue qi erupted from her in a burst of light, lashing like wildfire around them. It crackled against his skin, sharp and electric—a storm of spiritual energy born of desperation.

“I’m sorry, Senior Sister.” His whisper brushed the shell of her ear, soft as the sigh of wind through bamboo. For a heartbeat, her struggles stilled. Her breath hitched—a wet, fractured sound—as if the words had struck a hidden nerve.

Then, like a dam crumbling, her hands twisted weakly against his chest. The force of her push faltered, her nails retreating from his wounds to curl instead into loose, trembling fists.

Her Qi flickered uncertainly, its azure glow dimming to the faint pulse of moonlight on water.

“Let me go...” Her voice frayed to a whisper now, fragile as an autumn leaf caught in a storm.

The heat of her body seeped into him, but her rigid posture softened—a thaw so slight he might have imagined it. Her cheek grazed his shoulder, her breath misting damp and uneven against his neck. “Your mind is insane. This... you are not my Junior.”

The accusation hung between them, bitter and brittle. Yet as her chest rose and fell with labored breaths, her shoulders slackened imperceptibly.

Yet as the two of them remained locked in this embrace, chaos raged around them.

The Elders from various righteous factions, who had been fighting earlier against the unorthodox sect Masters, began to return to the scene.

Their eyes fell on Ji Wuye, who continued to embrace Qiu Xia in defiance of the turmoil surrounding him, his arms wrapped protectively around her as if shielding her from the chaos. Qiu Xia's delicate frame trembled slightly, her face buried against Ji Wuye's chest as she clung to him, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.

From every side, the Elders surrounded them, their robes billowing in the charged air, including those from Kunlun itself.

Among them was Elder Qiao—Qiao Xiulan—standing protective and resolute, her brow furrowed in determination as her gaze locked onto the overbearing figure now roaring from the paifang gate.

That figure loomed menacingly over the lifeless body of Yin Gang, the source of destruction in the background, his shadow cast long and ominous across the scorched earth.

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"WHICH ONE OF YOU DID THIS?!" The voice bellowed, deep and thunderous, belonging to none other than the Black Thunder Emperor himself.

His eyes, bloodshot and seething with fury, bore into the gathered crowd as he stood over the mutilated corpse of Yin Gang. He had just shattered the chains binding the rest of his disciples, freeing them from where they had been pinned to the ground, and they now slowly rose, their expressions a mix of fear and awe.

Kneeling over Yin Gang's broken body, the Black Thunder Emperor clenched his fists, the veins in his arms bulging with palpable rage.

His broad shoulders strained against the fabric of his robes, the muscles rippling beneath like coiled serpents, as his raven-black hair fell in wavy locks around his fierce, weathered face.

His gaze blazed with unrestrained malice, and his thick, neatly-groomed beard—black as a moonless night—seemed to spark faintly with crackling Lightning Qi, casting an eerie violet glow across his chiseled features.

He rose to his full height, his powerful physique imposing and unyielding, his every movement radiating a sense of barely contained fury.

Picking up Yin Gang's broken, bloodied corpse with ease, he cradled it in one arm, his expression twisting into a mask of anguished rage as he looked upon the mangled remains. In his other hand, he gripped a halberd—an enormous weapon that hummed with tendrils of Thunder Qi, streaked with radiant violet lightning that danced across its length.

"Cooperating with those unorthodox ones, attacking my Kunlun, and now demanding justice for the death of one of your disciples?"

The calm but commanding voice belonged to the Kunlun Patriarch, who took a single step forward to address the Black Thunder Emperor, his robes swirling around him like eddies in a still pond. "Do you think I am just a statue to stand idly and watch you act as you please?"

For the first time, the Patriarch's face was revealed. Unlike the Black Thunder Emperor's harsh, weathered visage, his countenance was smooth and refined—not old enough to be called a frail elder, but seemingly in the prime of his forties.

His clean-shaven jawline was sharp, exuding power even in silence, and his eyes—peculiarly white pupils resembling the glow of the moon—shone with an intimidating wisdom, unwavering in the face of the Black Thunder Emperor's fury.

The Patriarch held his jian steadily, his grip relaxed but firm, a stark contrast to the Emperor's white-knuckled grasp on his halberd.

Its edge glimmered faintly, and a soft, ethereal white Qi flowed around it like mist, radiating a sense of serenity that belied its deadly potential. The air around him felt colder, more restrained, yet no less dangerous than the crackling energy emanating from the Black Thunder Emperor.

"Let's move!" Elder Qiao's urgent voice cut through the tense moment as the Patriarch held the Black Thunder Emperor's attention, her brow furrowed with determination. She, along with the other Elders, moved quickly to where Ji Wuye still had hugged Qiu Xia, heedless of the growing discomfort of the onlookers.

Qiu Xia's delicate cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson from embarrassment as the many Seniors surrounding them cast their gazes on the scene, her slender fingers clutching at the fabric of Ji Wuye's robes as if seeking shelter from their scrutiny.

"Let's go, young man!" another Elder from one of the righteous factions barked impatiently, his voice gruff as he tried to pull Ji Wuye away, reaching out him. But Ji Wuye didn't budge, his arms holding Qiu Xia firmly in place despite the Elders' combined urgings and attempts to separate them.

"MOVE NOW! BEFORE THEY SPOT US!" one of the Elders shouted, her voice laced with panic as she whirled to face Ji Wuye and Qiu Xia, her robes billowing around her like stormclouds. In her desperation, she dug her nails into Ji Wuye's shoulder, the sharp points biting through fabric and skin alike.

"JI WUYE!" she cried out again, her eyes wide with urgency. This time, a faint bluish Qi, shaped like a delicate musical note, drifted toward him from her outstretched palm. Accompanied by a soothing melody that seemed to vibrate the very air around them, the Qi enveloped Ji Wuye, attempting to enchant him and snap him out of his trance with its gentle thrall.

However, he barely flinched, his firm stance resisting her efforts as if her trick slid off an impenetrable barrier. Startled, that Elder was pushed back slightly by an invisible force—her attempt thwarted—but was stopped by another Elder before she flung further.

"Have you lost your mind?! Are you courting death?!" that Elder was no one other than Elder Qiao, who shouted urgently, her brows furrowed in frustration and her lips pressed into a deep frown as she struggled to pull Ji Wuye away, her delicate features marred by the strain. Beads of sweat formed on her pale forehead as she redoubled her efforts, her gaze darting to Qiu Xia.

"Little Qiu, tell him! Do something!" she implored.

Qiu Xia, now seemingly as flustered and panicked as the Elders, looked at Ji Wuye with wide, pleading eyes. His face rested heavily on her shoulder, still showing no signs of letting go, his arms wrapped around her like iron bands.

"Let's mo—" Qiu Xia began, her voice soft but urgent, but her warning was cut short by a sudden, thunderous shout that shook the very ground beneath their feet.

SWOSH!

Suddenly, a streak of Lightning Qi hurtled toward them with blinding speed, the air crackling violently as a massive halberd, cloaked in tendrils of crackling thunder, shot forward like a violet comet.

BANG!

A deafening explosion rocked the area as the halberd's Qi collided with the ground near the gathered Elders and disciples, the impact kicking up a maelstrom of debris and scorched earth. Several Elders from the righteous factions were knocked back with sickening force, coughing up blood as waves of wind and volatile Qi scattered across the battlefield like a rampaging storm.

The aftermath of the halberd's devastating force spread outward in a shockwave, sparks of volatile Lightning Qi raining down and scorching the ground in its wake, leaving smoldering craters where they struck.

Before a second impact could strike, a great sword blazing with a contained, razor-sharp Qi intercepted the halberd mid-air with a resounding clang that set teeth on edge. It was a swift and precise maneuver, executed by an Elder from the Huashan School whose robes billowed from the force of his movement.

The enormous blade slashed through the air in one fluid motion, halting the halberd's deadly advance and sending arcs of lightning skittering across its gleaming edge.

At the same time, the sound of a zither echoed faintly, blending eerily with the chaos—a calming yet haunting melody reverberating through the battlefield, carried on invisible currents of spiritual energy.

"THERE YOU ARE, LITTLE MOUSE!" The booming voice belonged to none other than the Black Thunder Emperor himself, his words dripping with menace as his towering presence radiated power and hostility like a looming thunderhead.

His eyes, burning with unbridled fury, locked onto the group huddled around Ji Wuye and Qiu Xia, the veins in his thick neck standing out in stark relief.

But before anyone could react, another explosive sound reverberated, shaking the very ground beneath them with the force of an earthquake. The paved stones of the Lower Kunlun ground cracked and trembled violently under the impact, spider-webbing outward in a dizzying array of fissures.

Above them, the oppressive dark clouds that had been blocking out the daylight split apart, letting shards of brilliant sunlight pierce through in radiant beams.

"You are not going anywhere!"

The Kunlun Patriarch stood firm, his voice calm yet commanding as he faced the towering figure of the Black Thunder Emperor, refusing to yield even an inch of ground. His white martial robe, tattered and frayed from the earlier battles, fluttered slightly in the growing turbulence.

At the same time, the clouds above began to descend, cascading down like a shroud over the battlefield in an unnatural movement. In mere moments, the entire Lower Level Kunlun ground was cloaked in a dense, rolling mist that seemed to take on a life of its own.

The thick fog enveloped the area where the Elders had gathered tightly around Ji Wuye and Qiu Xia, its ethereal presence transforming the surroundings into an otherworldly haze.