The fog descended like living breath, swallowing the Lower Level Kunlun grounds. It thickened in the space between heartbeats, its damp tendrils coiling around Ji Wuye and Qiu Xia until the world narrowed to the shared warmth of their bodies.

The air tasted of petrichor and aged stone, cold enough to prickle exposed skin, yet neither seemed to notice—his arms remained locked around her, her back pressed to his chest, their silhouettes blurred into a single shadow against the pearlescent haze.

Qiu Xia’s pulse hammered in her throat, a frantic drumbeat echoing in the hollow of her collarbone. Ji Wuye’s whisper slithered through the silence, his lips grazing the shell of her ear as he spoke: “Will you forgive me, Senior Sister?”She stiffened, her fingers curling reflexively into the silk of his remaning tattered sleeve.

“Aiya! What nonsense are you—” Her voice fractured, rising half an octave as she twisted in his grip. The movement pressed her spine flush against him, and she jerked her head away. “Let me go! You fool—do you want us to die? You hear that old man rage—”

Her protests dissolved into a gasp as his hands slid lower, palms burning twin brand-marks through the gauzy layers of her outermost robe.

His fingers flexed—once, deliberately—against her shoulders, and she felt the tremor in them, subtle as the distant rumble of thunder beyond the mountains. Though she pushed halfheartedly at his forearms, the heat of him seeped into her skin, unraveling the frost of her resolve.

When he finally relented, the absence of his embrace left her unsteady. Ji Wuye lingered close, his crimson eyes glinting like twin coals through the mist. Qiu Xia’s gaze flicked upward, pupils dilating as she dared meet that molten stare.

For a breath, time fractured.

She tore her eyes away, but not before a blush flooded her cheeks, spreading like silk from the bridge of her nose to the delicate curves of her ears.

Her lower lip trembled as she hissed, “W-we have to leave immediately!” Her fists clenched, knuckles whitening, yet her feet remained rooted. The mist curled around her ankles, syrupy and suffocating, as if the mountain itself conspired to bind them there.

For the first time, Ji Wuye witnessed a fracture in Senior Sister Qiu’s armor—the glacial poise she wore like a second robe crumbling into something tender and unguarded.

Her eyes, usually sharp as honed steel, darted away from his, lashes fluttering like trapped moths. The defiant line of her jaw had softened, lips parted in a silent gasp that mirrored the tremble in her fingers as they clutched the gossamer sleeve of her own robe.

A ghost of a smile tugged at Ji Wuye’s lips, reckless and beguiled. His crimson irises glowed brighter, cutting through the haze like twin lanterns veiled in smoke.

“Will you forgive me, Senior Sister?” he repeated, voice velvet-soft yet fraying at the edges—a hymn of exhaustion and hope. Blood streaked his face, garish against his pallid skin, its metallic tang sharpening the damp musk of the fog.

Ji Wuye seemed utterly transfixed by Qiu Xia's uncharacteristic vulnerability, ignoring the imminent approach of the Elders whose looming shadows emerged dimly through the encroaching walls of cloud.

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They would soon reach them, ready to evacuate both disciples, but in that secluded cocoon of mist, such concerns seemed distant, irrelevant.

“Yes! Yes, let’s go before anyone else sees—” Qiu Xia’s plea withered into a whisper, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. She yanked at the sash around her waist.

Ji Wuye’s grin widened. A rasping chuckle escaped him as he dragged his tattered sleeve across his face, the once-pristine white linen now stiff with gore.

“Please convey my apology,” he murmured, fingers brushing hers. “Tell them... I care about all of you.”

Qiu Xia stiffened, brow creasing. “Junior, what are you—?”

But he stepped back, hands raised in surrender, and pushed her toward the fog’s billowing embrace. The mist coiled hungrily around her, swallowing her —until only her scent remained.

On the other hand, Ji Wuye remained behind, his crimson pupils glowing faintly as an ethereal, transparent screen flickered to life before his eyes.

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[!] Your passive skill, Quick Adaptation (C), has been triggered!

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The moment the screen appeared, the dense mist dissipated almost instantly, revealing the chaos that had been unfolding around them.

The scene that materialized was one of turmoil, with Elders from various righteous factions slashing through the lingering clouds, channeling their Qi into their weapons to carve wide openings in the fog as they searched relentlessly for him.

Meanwhile, thanks to his decision to push Qiu Xia away, most of his Senior Sisters had already been escorted to safety by the Kunlun Elders and Inner Disciples.

Only one person remained amidst the thinning veil of mist—Elder Qiao, whose piercing gaze seemed to find him effortlessly, as if able to penetrate the haze with her sharp eyes alone.

"As expected of Big Sister," Ji Wuye murmured, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as Elder Qiao's figure emerged from the dissipating mist.

Clad in a long, flowing white martial robe lined with dark yellow accents that hugged her regal form, she approached with deliberate, measured steps. Her sharp, narrowed eyes fixed on him, and her hand rested firmly on her hip.

Without warning, her other hand shot out toward him in a swift, precise motion reminiscent of Qiu Xia's earlier attempt.

SWOOSH!

The slap whistled through the air, but Ji Wuye swiftly stepped back, evading her strike with ease.

"I'm sorry, Big Sister," he said, "If it were you, it would definitely hurt."

"You know what you did pissed me off, Little Brother, and yet you still stand here like a mantis raising its arms before a war chariot?" Elder Qiao's voice was sharp and unforgiving, her piercing gaze sweeping over Ji Wuye from head to toe, assessing him. "Do you think you're anything more than a toad in a well compared to the Five Emperors? "

It was true—he bore no signs of injury despite the overwhelming odds he had faced. But after killing more than 200 unorthodox martial artists, it was impossible for his mind to remain unscathed or his body completely free of exhaustion.

Elder Qiao couldn't help but conclude that youth had blinded him, making him overconfident in the face of newfound power.

"If that's what you believe," Ji Wuye interjected, as if sensing her doubts, "then perhaps you should consider why this dragon has been hiding in shallow waters?" Instead of providing a direct answer, he responded with this cryptic question.

Then, stepping back slightly, Ji Wuye cupped his hands in a formal gesture and bowed his head, the lingering remnants of the mist swirling around his feet.

"Thank you for protecting me all this time, Big Sister—no, Elder," he said, his tone soft yet filled with an unmistakable gratitude while bowing his head.

Memories flooded his mind of all that Elder Qiao had done for him, both in this timeline and the one before. She had gone to great lengths to shield him, standing by his side through it all. Altering discussions, shifting the focus of critical decisions, even taking all his Senior Sisters under her protection—she had carried out his requests without question.

"Thank you for everything," Ji Wuye repeated, his words echoing as the thick mist that had cocooned them began to dissolve, scattering into wispy tendrils that danced on the air.

The tremors beneath their feet grew more violent, shaking the ground with intensity, while ominous rumbles filled the air, punctuated by the sharp clash of weapons and the reverberating sounds of attacks. The ongoing battle between the Black Thunder Emperor and the Patriarch loomed ever closer, its impact undeniable.

"Where do you think you're going? Do you really think I'll let you do whatever you please, just because I happen to like you?" Elder Qiao's voice was sharp, laced with an underlying frustration that belied the depths of her concern.

A faint bluish Qi began to emanate from her body, radiating an aura of calm yet oppressive power. Suddenly, the soothing sound of music filled the air as a flute materialized in her hands.

Ji Wuye instantly felt the effects, his body suddenly growing heavy as though invisible chains were binding him, a dizzying sensation taking hold of his mind.

Yet, he remained steadfast, his tone calm and steady despite the overwhelming oppression bearing down on him. "I must beg for your favor once again, Big Sister," he replied, meeting her piercing gaze with unwavering crimson eyes. "This time, I assure you, it will be fine."

Then he bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Please pardon me for being rude, Big Sister."

In that instant, his hand moved with precision to the grip of his sheathed jian.

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[!] Your passive skill, Deflecting Blows (C), has been triggered!

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